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helluvapoison · 4 months

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Nice To Eat You

[ii]

The Vees x Cannibal!Reader

warnings: drugs, suggestive, rosie slander, dark themes, violence, security shenanigans and, hello, cannibalism

heads up: if you didn’t know, the people of cannibal town are hellborn; born in hell, never lived on earth, never sinned! their life spans are unknown(?) but seem to age as a human would, unlike other demons

Cannibal town has been off limits to The Vees, courtesy of Vox, ever since the incident with you know who. Meeting you was a suspicious surprise for them. You were kicked out of said town by Rosie for giving cannibals a bad name. Can you fucking believe the irony!?

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Suspicious might be an understatement

• For the longest time, Vox is unnerved by you for every other reason than your appetite. Anyone associated with Rosie is an adversary by proxy. If you take Alastor out of the picture, Rosie is still an Overlord and all Overlords will inevitably crumble to The Vees– even if they don’t know it yet

• There’s an expression for that though, isn’t there? Keep your enemies close. That’s exactly how Vox went about dealing with you

• Gives you a job as his security guard. Hell knows he needs one, what with the price of fame and all, those dirty fucking sinners that try and touch him wherever he goes

• It’s a slow development because neither of you initiate conversation

• Vox is beyond used to the rotating door of demons in and out of his life. He abandons the names of anyone that isn’t you, Velvette or Valentino (Angel Dust and Alastor he can’t forget against his will)

• Becoming attached to you while simultaneously waiting for the other shoe to drop is fucking awful. It feels it like a bug in his system, annoys him to the point his screen starts glitching one day

“Just what the fuck are you up to!? I know you’re with Rosie–”

You knew, on some level, Vox didn’t trust you all the way but it didn’t bother you because he hardly seems to trust anyone. So you cut him off with a mix of a snort and a scoff,

“Rosie? Rosie’s a cunt. She gave me the boot years ago, haven't seen her since.”

Involuntarily, he begins to smile, “Years, huh?”

• Trust is another slow endeavor. Now that Vox doubts your motives slightly less than before, he can silently appreciate the fact you do a damn good job of keeping demons away from him. Bonus: if you happen to take a chunk out of them for shits and giggles, blood never touches his pristine self

• “I believe I owe you an apology,”

“Am I going to get one?”

• In a way, sure, but you’ll be sorely disappointed if you thought it was with words. He invites you to dinner. From that moment until you arrive at the restaurant, he’s reveling in the constant state of shock you seem to be in

• Your eyebrows jump when the waiter nervously lifts the lid from your plate and reveals ribs. Real, demon ribs

“Surprised?” Vox asks rather smugly

“Somewhat,” You return his sly smirk, “Most can’t stomach my… indulgences.”

“I don’t have a stomach. I think I’ll be just fine.”

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Vel doesn’t give two steaming shits about Rosie or her backwards, unflattering town so long as it doesn’t interfere with her enterprise. Vox’s grudges are his own. If The Vees got hellbent and demented over each other’s EOTD (Enemy Of The Day) nothing would get done!

• During a pathetic comment war on the her social, a few threats became too detailed for Vox’s liking

• A cannibal wasn’t his first choice– or second, or third– but you’d certainly scare off anyone trying to hurt his business partner!

• Velvette’s far from worried about being lunch when she meets you.

• “You’re my–? No. Absolutely not! I can’t be seen with this.” She gestures to all of you

“You’re not exactly making me drool either,” You mutter under your breath

• Judging by the looks of her partners’ faces, stunning Velvette to silence was impossible. Key word: was

• It didn’t last long and hasn’t stopped since

• She pulled out every trick in the book to get you to quit. She gave you a uniform to wear during your shifts, tossed fabrics at you until you turned into a living clothes rack, forced you to hold her phone during her live streams but criticized and berated the way you did

• For fucks sake, she even screamed at Vox to let her fire you!

• You didn’t need her to like you and that was as obvious as it was infuriating. She was Velvette! Everyone loved her! Having you around was like a black eye; literally bruising her ego and bad for business

• Or so she thought

• She made you stand in the shadows of her studio so you wouldn’t frighten anyone and ruin photoshoots with your “freaky face” she so eloquently put it.

• Velvette was mid fashion crisis, yelling at Joanne for the gazillionth time, when you approached from behind

“I’m taking my lunch.”

“Fucking fantastic! Here, have Joanne since she insists on being fucking useless!”

Playing along, you let a guttural growl rip from your throat, making Joanne jump high in the air.

She squeaked and shook her head vigorously, holding her hands in surrender, “I-I’ll be better, I swear!”

• Her candy cane eyes widened in delighted surprise. How had she been so blind to your potential usefulness!?

• Velvette could get high off the new game she created with you. It was like having a scary guard dog– only better dressed to aesthetics. Paparazzi didn’t dare touch her now, standing at a respectable distance that made her more unattainable and desirable than before

• Her attitude change makes her like-able to you too, she’s heaps more pleasant to be around now. You don’t mind doing the extra stuff that wasn’t in your contract like being a dress up doll, dealing with the pet names or escorting her to events. She knows and takes advantage of this instead of saying how she feels

• “You’re my arm candy now, dollface! You go where I go.”

“I hardly think I qualify as arm candy,” You mumble to her, overtly aware of how she holds you close to her

“If you’re fishing for compliments, fuck off to another pond. I don’t waste my free time with uggos,” She says seriously, abruptly smiling as a camera flashes in her direction, “Now get ready. Fans have been dying to get a picture with me lately and if anyone smudges this dress with their dirty fucking fingers, I want you to bite them off!”

“Anyone that touches you won’t have hands tomorrow,” You promise

• You swear she shivers upon hearing that

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• The easiest by far to get along with. In a mortifying way

• Val is fairly accepting of all Hell’s creatures. It’s typically followed up by something sexual but, hey, you’re not in a position to complain, not when no one else in Hell would willingly sign up to work with a cannibal. Especially one outside the confines of Rosie’s civil town

• Rosie’s loss is his gain

• You would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting him to turn horror-struck but he barely blinks when you explain what you did to get exiled. Your savage methods intrigue him, a plethora of potentials just waiting to be explored. In fact, he goes a step further to praise you for being different

• “Hell would be deathly boring if everyone thought the same way, darling. That’s what makes you so… alluring.” He rolled his tongue with the last word, dragging it out and making it ring in your ears

• You’d been called many things in your afterlife, but never that

• You feel rather useless at the moth’s side. You were supposed to be protecting him but he could take care of himself just fine. Val was about the tallest in every room (if not the tallest) with guns hidden under his coat that he never used

• Later you’d understand he only reached for them as a last resort, when his head was unclouded by blood lust

• If you ever voiced your complaints, he’d be quick to reassure you that you make him look good. What powerful Overlord doesn’t have bodyguards? (Do. Not. Answer.)

• However the day does come when you prove your services have merit. On set of all places! A coked up Hellhound didn’t take kindly to Val’s directions, sending a demon wielding a boom mic flying towards him

• Valentino dodged the demon with ease, whipping around and aiming his pistol to put the dog down. Instead he saw you pushing the mutt’s face into the ground, his arm pinned at an angle. Your sharp teeth were bared at his throat, drool dampening his fur

• But you made no moves without Valentino’s say-so

• There’s a lot he could say about the scenario you provided him and how it made him feel– but he only calls your name, beckoning you back to his side

• Where you belong

• “You’re lucky I don’t like hair in my food,” You growl in the Hellhound’s ear before following after Val

• Valentino may be a mastermind of porn and sex but he knows the real way to a demon’s heart, it’s is the universal love language

• Unbothered by blood, he’ll sit pretty and poised on his loveseat while you tear into the meal he provided you. A thanks for a job well done

• “You’ll never go hungry now that you’re with me, monstruo,” The pet name is dripping with adoration, “I won’t waste you like that bitch did. Look at you, you’re already so special.”

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ i lost the request that went to this but i hope it reaches them. cannibal!reader got that rizz, huh?

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #vox headcanons #vox imagine #vox x reader #velvette headcanons #velvette imagine #velvette x reader #valentino headcanons #valentino x reader #valentino imagine #help i’m actually falling for val

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youngtacoes · 4 days

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Strangers, no more

Cooper Howard aka The Ghoul x f!reader

Author's note: this is a long one !! i've had this scenario in my head for a long ass time and i just had to get it out on paper. cooper isn't as cruel in this one, sorry if that's not your thing, but he can be soft sometimes too! fyi: reader is 18+ and everything is consensual! If you're only here for the smut you can skip toward the end.

Word count: 6,8k

Summary: Cooper is a bounty hunter struggling for caps and you need to be transported safely across the wasteland in "good condition", luckily it pays well. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ Mentions of r*pe, impregnation & torture, religious cult, angst, virgin!reader, losing virginity, graphic smut

It was getting bad, really damn bad. Days of good-for-nothing bounty jobs, vial after vial, cough attack after cough attack. He needed the caps desperately if he was to keep himself from turning feral anytime soon. He’d been taking small jobs here and there, just enough to keep himself at bay for a few days, but he knew he couldn’t keep going at this rate for much longer. He needed a bigger job, a bigger cash prize, a bigger bounty, but every time he stopped by the wall of people with prizes attached to them, he found himself disappointed in how low the numbers were. That is until he notices a fresh face staring back at him, hidden behind newer posters, large letters displayed across. "BIG JOB", and this one has an even larger number attached.

He steps forward, pushing the other posts away and rips the new face off the wall to study the number closer. Yup, he read it right.

Five thousand caps.

"Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered.

A young girl, maybe in her 20s. She looks well put together, innocent, and has a sincere smile on her face. For the first time in a very, very long time, he found himself wondering what her story was and why she was worth so damn much, but he didn’t like to dwell on it for too long. A job is a job, and this was going to be worth every damn cap.

On the poster, it states that she was to get picked up at the coordinates provided and to keep her in "good condition". Well, shit, that might just be the hardest part. The ghoul had never been one to take care of his captives, and most often he preferred if the poster stated "good dead or alive". This was definitely going to be different, and if it wasn’t for the "good condition" detail, he’d almost think it was too good to be true. Perhaps even think it was a trap.

It’s midnight, and you’re seated by your desk with a pen in hand, drawing carefully and concentrated on making art on this dirty sheet of old newspaper, but it was good enough for you. You drew flowers and insects from an old pre-war book about nature and their hidden treasures. You were always fascinated by the pre-war times, and though you will never know what it was truly like, you liked to imagine who you would’ve been back in those times.

It’s your way of forgetting about the current state of your life and the predicament you found yourself in. You were born in the wasteland, to a mother who did her best to protect you, but in the end, she had been brutally murdered by a group of raiders who attacked your farm, and you were taken captive by them at the age of 9. You spent a few horrid days with them before your current group found you and bought your freedom from them.

To be fair, you’ve been treated quite well by this group, and you thought you had a family in them at one point. That was until a few months ago when they decided you needed to be isolated from the rest for reasons you still didn’t quite understand. The leader of the group, Margot, had carefully selected you for a special assignment, and made sure to tell you the isolation was for your own good. Apparently you needed special treatment before a long journey to a sacred place called Halfway that was waiting for your arrival.

Your fellow peers would come and visit you to show their excitement, though you didn’t quite understand it, it must be something good with all the positive buzz that’s surrounding you. So your head got filled with all sorts of scenarios and dreams of where you were going and what luxuries you were to experience on this assignment. Though you had your doubts that it was all just a coverup for something else, you didn’t have any reason not to trust your group. They had been nothing but kind to you as long as you’d been there.

You’re startled out of your thoughts by heavy knocks on your locked door and a command shouted from behind.

"Lights out!"

You sigh at the command. "Yes madam!"

You don't bother packing up your drawing supplies, you'll be continuing with it tomorrow anyway, and the day after, probably. You find your bed and blow out the nearby candles.

Every night you can't help but wonder when your assignment and journey would begin. You had all sorts of feelings and questions about it, but every time you tried talking to Margot, she would give you answers that didn’t really answer anything at all, so you gave up on trying to figure it out a long time ago.

The next morning you’re awaken rudely by the guards coming into your room and practically dragging you out of bed in your dazed state.

"Wha- HEY-" you try to muster what’s going on, but before even getting a word out, you’re on your feet and Margot stands before you with her hands on her back.

"Morning lucky one. It’s time, the day we have waited long for is finally here," She's so serious in her delivery, it almost frightens you.

It’s happening.

"We’ve hired someone to transport you safely across the wasteland for your assigment, they’re here and won’t be kept waiting. Get ready in 5 and say your goodbyes, quickly."

Suddenly it feels like it’s all happening too fast, and a slight panic rise inside you. Margot must've notices your panicked stare, cause her features soften, and she steps closer to you.

"You’ve come so far, and I’m so proud of you,» She smiles at you with encouragement, "This is your moment, and I know you will succeed and make us all proud."

Her words give you enough to calm down before the panic escalated. And you give her a nod that you indeed got this. You can do this. You’ve done hard things before, this shouldn’t be any different.

"Yes madam," you say smiling back at her. She flashes you one last smile and a wink before turning and walking back out.

Outside you find everyone from your group waiting in the corridors. They smile at you, some coming to greet you, give you kisses on the cheek as you’re led out of the main building by the guards. It’s all a bit much, but this must be pretty big deal. Margot waits for you by the gate to your commune, but she's not alone. A dark figure stands just outside, looking impatient.

You’re filled with scepticism as you walk up them, but you have to put your trust in her. She notices you and takes a hold of your hands with a smile.

"You will do great," And the wave of panic that had a hold of you before, washes off of you completely. You nod confidently now, and you start believing that this is actually gonna be totally fine.

You feel the dark figure moving closer to you, his hat covering his face just enough to keep him anonymous for the time being. He still looks terrifying, but you have to trust this man is here only to protect you on your journey to Halfway, and that he will do his best to do so.

Margot shoots the man one last look, "Good condition," the man still doesn’t show his face, but he nods.

"Yes ma’am. Let’s go princess," You realize he’s talking to you, and you’re startled by the nickname at first, but you decide not to fuzz, at least not yet. He’s already started walking away, so you find yourself running up behind him, waving back to your leader for the last time, only she doesn’t wave back, she doesn’t even flash a smile. She stares back at you with a stern look as the gates to the commune come to a close.

It doesn’t give you the best feeling, but perhaps she was feelings sad you were leaving and didn’t want to show any emotions. Either way, you try to push the sight out of your mind, doing your best to follow the stranger. He doesn’t say a word for a long time, and you find that maybe it’s best we keep to ourselves for the time being, but as an hour or so go by, you find yourself a little curious.

You clear your throat, "Excuse me, sir?"

He doesn’t reply, but shoots a quick look over his shoulder to indicate that he’s listening.

"How long do you think we’ll be walking for?"

Given that Margot had given you absolutely no information about this journey, you figured it was worth a shot to ask your new strange companion.

"Couple’a days, if we don’t get sidetracked," His voice ragged, western, serious.

"Oh," not really sure if you dared asking for further details. You’d prefer to keep it peaceful for as long as possible, but you find the courage to ask anyway.

"Sidetracked by what?"

You hear him sigh, "Unnecessary bullshit."

‘Whatever that means’ you think to yourself. He doesn’t seem like the talkative type, but after months of isolation you find yourself rather desperate for someone to talk to, and if you are to spend days with this man, you figure it’s worth a shot trying to get to know him for whatever time you have to spend together.

"I see.. I’ll be on the lookout for that I suppose."

You can barely believe your ears when you hear a chuckle coming from the stranger in front of you.

After that positive feedback, you find yourself braver.

"I didn’t catch your name?"

His posture changes after the question left your mouth.

"I didn’t give to ya,"

"Well, I’m Y/N, but everyone calls me Lucky. It’s a bit of a recent nickname though. You see, I just spend 6 months in completely isolation-"

You get cut off abruptly when you find yourself crashing into the strangers back, realizing he's come to an complete halt. He turns around, his figure towering slightly over you. His hat is no longer doing it’s job to cover his face, and utter horror washes over you as it's fully visable in the golden hour light.

"Listen sweetheart, I’m here to do this goddamn job. I don’t wanna hear your whole life story, and you sure as hell won’t be hearing mine. How about we keep our histories to ourselves and try to get this over with as quickly as fucking possible. That sound good to you?"

Your eyes aren’t able to leave his face. His sunken eyes, skin looking like it's been melted by the sun, an obvious nose missing. A ghoul, a ghoul is transporting you. You’ve not met a ghoul before, and those you’ve heard stories of have been grotesque. Fair enough they had been feral, but who’s to say this one won’t turn?

You get the gist of what he’s saying, and simply nod in agreement, not wanting to make this trip any more uncomfortable than it already is.

His eyes bore into your own, and he’s a lot closer than you’d prefer. For a second you think his eyes dart down to your lips before he turns around to keep walking, but that would be crazy, and very disturbing.

Nightfall comes fast, and you’re finding yourself worried for where you’ll be sleeping for the night. You really don’t wanna ask the ghoul, but your steps are getting shorter and slower, and you think the Ghoul have noticed cause he starts walking off track and leads you to a broken down abandoned house off the road.

"Stay here," he says before entering the house, gun up, ready to shoot. You do as he says and wait patiently for him to clear the coast. It doesn’t take long before you hear squealing and two shots being fired. You’re not sure whether to go in or run, but it doesn't matter anyway cause you freeze up completely in these situations. All you can do is hope that the ghoul knows what he's doing.

He comes back to the door a few minutes later, gesturing for you to come in, you’re hesitant, but you do. It's not like you have much of a choice anyway, "What was the shooting about?"

In his left hand he holds a dead radroach, and you find yourself wondering why he’s holding it. That's so fucking gross.

"You should be grateful. I got us some lunch the road," he says, flashing you a smirk. It's almost like he knew you’d be repulsed by it.

"Uhm, y’know what? I think I’m good, for the time being." You try to be nice, but you feel like you might not have a say in the matter. This might be the only food you get for a while.

"Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll make a fire and we’ll put it on the grill."

You want to roll your eyes and complain, but you force yourself to give him a smile and if anything, show some appreciation. He did in fact just catch you a meal.

You’re able to swallow some of the grilled radroach, but after the fresh foods you had grown accustomed to from your commune, you found this hard to stomach.

Nightfall has fallen completely now, and you’ve done your best to make a comfortable sleeping spot by the fire. The ghoul sits nearby keeping watch, and you find yourself very curious of his past and who he is, or who he used to be. Thinking back to his speech earlier about keeping your histories to yourselves reminds you not to ask, but he didn’t say anyting about asking about where you were going.

"What do you know about Halfway?" You watch him closely for any hints he migth give away, "Is it as grand as everyone makes it out to be?" You lay on your side, arm resting under your head.

He doesn’t look at you, eyes fixated on the fire. "How about you get some rest, alright?" he avoids your question. How annoying.

You turn to lay on your back with a puff of annoyance. «Nobody wants to tell me anything,"

"Maybe there's a reason for that."

You turn to look at him, his eyes still not meeting yours. "What is that supposed to mean?" By the sound of it, nothing good.

"Look it's not my job to inform you of shit, and if your leader wanted you to know, trust me darling, she would've told ya."

His eyes flicker up to look directly at yours this time, and it catches you off guard. Not knowing what else to say, you decide to turn to your side, away from him. This whole thing is giving you a really bad feeling.

You’re back on track the next day. Your legs sore from the day before. Having been in isolation for 6 months will do that to you, you guessed, but you'll manage.

The ghoul hasn't said a word yet today, and though you didn't exactly get the answers you were looking for last night, you refused to give up completely.

"What did Margot mean when she said good condition?"

He doesn’t answer, of course he doesn’t. You sigh,

"Look, I don’t mean to be annoying. Truly, I’d just like to know what is waiting for me. That’s all, and I really don't see the harm in that." Still nothing.

"Hey! It’s not kind to ignore someone when they're talking to y-" The ghoul quickly turns, a rope firm in his hands. Where did that come from? He grabs your hands, tying them together before you’re able to protest.

"Hey- what’re you doing!?" You look at him in disbelief, anger and panic all in one.

"Trust me, it’s for your own good," You laugh at that, yeah right. Before you’re able to mock him, he takes out a piece of cloth and wraps it around your head, specially over your mouth, and it's keeping you from saying what's on your mind. For a second you’re actually fearing for your life.

"Listen, gorgeous. We’re about to pass through some dangerous territory, and the people in these parts would do a lot to get their hands on a pretty litte thing like yourself. You follow my lead and keep your mouth shut, can you do that for me?"

You look for any lies in his eyes, but you genuinely believe him. It’s not like you can argue against him anyway, but you put your trust in him and give a nod in response.

You walk for a short while longer before you actually start seeing other people on your path. They seem rough around the edges. Hostile, but not aggressive, yet anyway. You walk past a few who seem to be intrigued, but not interested enough to take their chance at battle with the ghoul. That is until a few of them start gathering in front of you. Four men stand before your path, making it impossible to keep walking without confrontation.

"Gentlemen, how do you do?" The ghoul seems to do his best to keep it friendly, not wanting to create an unnecessary conflict with precious cargo at risk.

"What’ve you got for us ghoul?" As you observe, you can tell some of them are clearly on heavy combat inhancing chems, might be a harder fight if it comes down to it.

"Delivery, to Halfway. Can’t lose this one I’m afraid." He says it so confidently, completely standing his ground, but still keeping it non threatening. The men seem intrigued, and even exchange laughs between themselves. You wonder what they find so funny.

"That religious sacrifice place? What a lucky girl,"

"Seems like she’s up for a hell of a good time,"

"Fellas, if you don’t mind, we’re on a bit of a tight schedule," The ghoul tries to interrupt their 'friendly' chatter, but to no avail.

"They only take virgins up there don’t they? That’s like their whole point?" One of the guys ask the other three.

"Yeah, it’s some crazy religious cult. They torture them and impragnate them for like 10 years or something, or at least that’s what I’ve heard."

You freeze at their words. That can’t be it. That’s not what’s been told to you. They’re joking, making it up to scare you. It’s not true.

"Crazy rich though, you must be getting a lot of caps for this huh?" Suddenly their tone is not so friendly anymore, but the ghoul doesn’t budge. He keeps his hand on his holstered gun, the other holding the rope that binds your hands.

"Lucky for you, we’re not looking to take her off your hands. This time anyway," They laugh once more, patting the ghoul on his shoulder before walking off, letting you pass. He pulls on the rope to shake you out of your frozen state, and you jolst forward, trying to keep up with him. But you're disassociating, not paying a single mind to anything around you. You're too much in your head about what was just said, and you'd like to say you didn't believe a single word, but for some reason you do.

You keep walking in silence, time becomes irrelevant when you're all up in your head. You don’t notice the radstorm closing in, nor the rain that has already started pouring. If anything is in your favor, it's that you pass by a town with an abandoned pre-war hotel that offer a room for 100 caps a night. For whatever reason, the ghoul decides to do that for you. You don’t ask questions, you don't care to.

Soaked, shivering and your legs just barely keeping you up anymore, the ghoul places you down on the couch in the room given to you. You let him guide you, and for once, you're glad he doesn't have much to say. He lowers himself down in front of you and starts taking off the disgusting saliva soaked cloth from your mouth.

You wipe your mouth your hand, "Thank you."

He keeps his mouth shut and starts working on untying the rope from your hands. You watch him crouched before you, he's being gentle when removing the knots. A horrifying reminder of what you won't be experiencing at Halfway, if the men from earlier was telling the truth that is. This thought is what breaks you, and the tears start trickling down your tired face. There's no point holding it back anymore.

He's looking at you, so clearly trying to hide the concern on his face as he stands up and walks to the door.

"I’ll head down to the square to look for some food,"

Whatever.

Your silence is making him uncomfortable, so he leaves. You stay seated, replaying the words spoken between the men from earlier, over and over in your head.

Everyone you knew had made Halfway seem like such an amazing place. That you were lucky to be going, you were chosen. The thought makes you want to throw up.

You don’t register that the ghoul is back, fresh mutfruits placed in front of you on the coffee table, and though you are starving, you can’t bring yourself to even eat one.

"Eat," he says sternly. You just shake your head.

"M’not hungry," you sniffle, drying your tears with the palm of your hand.

"It’s not nice to lie, sweetheart. You haven’t had anything to eat since the damn radroach. Eat," He's trying to act concerned, but you don't believe it for a second. You scoff and look up to meet his eyes, and he’s looking right back at you, an annoyed expression on his face. You can’t believe this guy.

"Why do you care if I eat or not? Let me be," You're so tired, and all you want is to sleep. Gradually rising from the couch, you head towards the bed.

"Please," his plead makes you stop in your tracks.

"Please eat, you're really gonna need the strength," he seems desperate, almost.

You turn around to see him standing motionless by the coffee table, clearly attempting to compose himself.

"No," you're stern in your reply.

He's growing increasingly annoyed, angry even, because he knows he can't force you or harm you in any way.

"Whatever good condition means, I’m sure they'll be pleased as long as I’m alive, right?" Your voice gradually getting louder. "Being that their plan is to torture me for 10 years and all, they must have lots of stimpacks around to keep me alive enough to birth their whole next generation of psychos, don't you think?" Tears start falling.

"Don’t make me beg again," His eyes are shut, as if he's trying to block out your words, as if they affect him somehow. what a fucking joke.

"You’re so afraid you won’t get your paycheck. Well fuck you, and fuck the caps they’re paying you for this," you say it with so much pain and hatred, and you’re sure you’ll regret it later but you don’t have an inch of fuck to give at the moment.

Suddenly you see his angry features fall, and he catches himself in a cough. It's grotesque, and it seems to be getting worse with each one. He looks at you with disrepair, and you can tell he's struggling to catch his breath. You don't know what to do, but you're getting scared for him now. It looks horrifying, but before you're able to come to his aid, he scurries out the room.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. What just happened? A part of you wanted to run after him to make sure he was okay, but at the same time you wouldn't mind too much if he left and never came back. Shaking, you decide to tuck yourself into the left side of the bed. Trying not to think about how dirty it is, you curl yourself into a ball and cry out every last drop.

You’re never able to fall asleep, the tears just keep coming. You thought about running away, but knowing that the ghoul was getting paid a lot for this job, he would likely find you again in no time. What would be the point?

Your sobs are suddenly interrupted by the door opening, and you quiet yourself down to listen closely to every sound. The sound of the ghouls boots scraping the floor as he makes his way to the couch, his coat and gear getting thrown down on it. You decide to pretend that you’re already asleep as you hear him make his way to the bed. Feeling it dip slightly as he lay down in it.

But your cover is blown when you sniffle from the snot in your nose. You damn yourself as a sigh from the stranger fills the room, and you start feeling embarrassed about the way you treated him earlier. It’s not him you should be angry at, if anything it’s Margot and your group. The ghoul is just doing his job, to collect a price which he must need desperately, you can’t really blame him. He owes you nothing.

"Cooper," his raspy voice turned soft for a second.

"What?"

"My name is Cooper, some call me Coop. Whichever rolls of your tongue the best."

You feel awful now, "I’m sorry," Wiping away the tears and the snot to the best of your ability.

"For what sweetheart?" He sounds like he already knows what you’re apologising for, but decides to ask anyway for his own amusement.

"For cursing you out, it’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t blame you," You say, already feeling better for apologizing.

You both stay silent for a while, only sniffles from your nose filling the room. It’s embarrassing, you feel like such a child.

"C’mere darling," He says it in such a soft way. You can barely believe your ears. Looking over your shoulders you see him looking at you, only the dim light of a burning candle nearby to light your surroundings. He’s on his back, gesturing with his hand for you to lay in the crook of his arm. You contemplate it for a second, but it doesn’t take much convincing if you’re being honest. You’d take any form of comfort to make you forget this whole thing, even for just a night.

You turn around, inching closer under the sheets, finding a comfortble spot in the crook of his neck, your head resting on his arm. You’ve never been this close to someone except your mom when you were younger. It’s scary in a way, being this vulnerable and intimate with someone you barely know.

Your breaths are shallow, thoughts racing through your mind and it’s making your heart is beat so fast. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, his body doesn’t give anything away.

You lay like this for a while, just a few dry sniffles and breaths heard between you. You recognize the closeness of him.

But you want to get even closer. You want him wrapped around you and have him absorb your whole being. It may come from having learned that you have extreme trauma waiting for you, and you can’t help but want to experience something good and genuine before that.

Your breaths become heavier, deeper, and you feel yourself wanting something; wanting him. This could go terribly wrong, but what exactly do you have to lose? Fuck it. You push away the what if's and inch your face closer to Cooper’s neck, your hands find themselves carefully making their way to his chest. He doesn’t react, and from what you can tell, he doesn't seem to mind.

You see his breathing stop, and you’re feeling brave. So you test the waters, gently sliding your hand up to his chest, letting them glide across his shirt. While your lips carefully grace the rough skin on his neck. You hear him puff out the air he’s been holding in while curiously letting letting you wander, but he doesn’t seem to resist.

When he doesn’t stop you, it’s easy to find the courage to keep going. Your hand wanders further down his chest, stomach, but he catches your hand right before it reaches the hem of his pants.

"What do you think you’re doin'?" He doesn't sound disappointed, more so curious. You feel a bit embarrassed, but you stand your ground, like you've already stated, you’ve got nothing to lose.

"Please Coop," just a whisper in his ear, "Please show me what it’s meant to feel like", a plea, practically begging.

He can’t help but let out a low growl, obviously turned on by the thought. "I’m meant to deliver you as a virgin, sweetheart."

You want to cry again, a sob brewing deep in your throat. "Please, they won’t know- They won’t find out," Your lips find his neck again, leaving trails of kisses up to his jawline, tongue swirling along the rough surface. You never thought you would find yourself in this position 2 days ago, but here you were, begging for a bounty hunter, a ghoul, to take your virginity.

Lucky for you, he seems to be out of fucks to give and lets go of your hand after only a few seconds of thinking it over. You don’t hesitate to let your free hand go under his shirt to feel his skin. It’s so textured, but you don’t mind. You’ve never touched anyone this way before, there wasn't much to compare it to.

Your hand travel lower until it finds a buldge. Being that this is your first time being intimate with somone, you’re startled by the unfamiliarity of it at first. But it doesn't take you long to realize that you were the reason for his cock hardening, and that turned you on more than anything.

Cooper, who's been laying still for some time now, has clearly been contemplating if he should stop this whole ordeal or not. He wants to touch you so bad, show you how good he can make you feel. Have you shaking with pleasure because of him, but he seems to let you be in control for the time being. You didn't mind, and it gave you some reassurance that this wouldn't be rushed, nor that he would force you to do something you didn't want to.

Your hands are shaking at this point as you try to unbotton his pants, and Cooper can't help but to give you a hand in your already broken state. You’re eager, and waste no time removing your own.

"Get over here darlin'," he says with that gentle voice again, gesturing for you to straddle his hips. His length is exposed now, and you feel yourself getting nervous with anticipation. You find it hard to believe that he's gonna fit inside you, it seems impossible.

Yet, you gain the confidence to sit up and make your way across his lap. You're not sure where to sit specifically, but you want to study him further and therefore straddle his thighs. His cock in view in front of you, laid across his stomach, stiff and drooling. Cooper doesn't say anything, but he watches you carefully, wondering what your next move will be. You don't pay attention to him for now.

You do however find yourself curious, and grab the length in front of you. It's warm, and you circle a thumb across the top where it's drooling a clear liquid. You hear him hum under you, an approval of the gesture you just performed. Butterflies take over your stomach, and you feel throbbing in your lower area. You want his cock so desperately inside you now, just to hear those sounds from him again.

"Sit up for me'," the gruffness of his voice draws your attention to him. You obliged without hesitation, "Scoot closer," and you do, of course you do.

He stretches a hand down between your thigs and you're on your knees straddling his hips. Rough fingers run between your folds and they run smoothly.

"Well fuck me, you really want this huh?" He's teasing you now. You nod frantically.

"Use your words sweetheart," He inserts a finger in your untouched hole. You gulp at the sensation, "Yes- yes I do-".

He hums again, moving the finger inside you, bending and stroking. It feels strange, but not painful. "I know you do honey, but I need to make sure you can handle me first, alright?"

You nod frantically, you knew already that you were prepared to do anything he wanted. "Yes, sir,"

Without warning he adds another finger, and it's starting to sting a little. You try to control your breathing as he starts moving them in and out of you, "I know it hurts baby, but it's only for a lil while. You trust me, don't you?"

You nod again, "Yes- Fuck!" He was getting agressive with it now, but he's hitting a spot you didn't know existed and it's sending you to other dimensions in your mind. Your eyes are rolling back while his fingers work hard between your thighs. It's unlike anything you've felt before.

"There we go.. You're gonna be so good for me aren't you, princess?" His words barely register as you find yourself gripping his arm and holding on for dare life to not lose your balance.

"Mhm- y- yes," and before you knew it, his hand is removed from between your folds and you're left heaving for your breath and trying to focus your vision again.

"I think you know what to do, darlin'," You need him badly now, even more now that you know what pleasures are waiting.

You place yourself over his cock, and Cooper watches in patiently as he puts his hands on your thighs, stroking them gently.

You grab his length and place it under your opening, ready to lower yourself on him. "Slow now," he warns as you as his tip meets your entrance, before letting it slip in just an inch. You both hiss, him with pleasure, you with pain.

"That’s it, doll," He keeps his eyes on you as you wince in pain. Taking deep breaths as your hole adjusts itself to his full size, but you’re feeling impatient and start pushing yourself even further despite the burning sensation. You figure it’s better to get it over with as fast as possible so you can actually start enjoying this.

Cooper hums, "Patience sweetheart," you lock eyes with him, and he genuinely seems to care. He lets you have complete control over this, not pushing any limits, and it makes you feel even more aroused, being in charge; seeing his eyes roll back with edged pleasure, yet doing nothing to force his way in.

You feel comfortable enough to start moving now, and you do your best not to squeal when you feel it burn and sting. Finally your skin touch, your ass gracing his thighs, and though it’s still stinging a bit, you can feel his whole length inside you, and it drives you mad.

"Just like that, princess," You hear his soft grunts below, and it reminds you to start moving. Slowly easing yourself off him, just to lower back down again, trying to find the right pace and angle for it to hit the right spot. It doesn't take long before you feel Cooper bucking his hips just ever so slightly to help you out, and he does. He knew exactly how to thurst his cock to give you the extreme pleasure you were searching for.

"More- please," you moan, your hands find his chest to lean on. Nails digging into his already ragged skin.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good around me, darling," His hips buck into you again, pulling himself almost all the way out before slamming himself back inside you. It's rough, and his hands have found your ass to grab to help move you to his rhythm. You're dazed, eyes barely open from sheer pleasure radiating deep inside you. It's making your breath hitched, and your moans spurt out in cries.

"My- fuckn'- god-" you struggle to draw a proper breath, your vision is blurred and rolled back, barely open.

He’s grunting with pleasure beneath you, seeing you completely lost to the way his cock fills your tight cunt, the next time rougher than last. You both sense that you're getting closer to an edge, and that’s when you realize how lightheaded you are, probably from the lack of food you’ve had today, and Coop notices how your figure slowly droops with exhaustion.

"Woah easy darling-" You feel him sit up under you, and without much effort he sits up and holds you tight to his chest, flipping you over on your back in a swift motion.

You would act surprised, but you’re too lightheaded and close to a climax that you don’t react at all. You feel his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavy and groaning into your ear as he pushes himself deep and steady inside you. Your moans are soft, almost silent, barely there, not enough energy to show him how good he’s making you feel. But you think he gets it, if anything he can see it in how your eyes roll back, how flushed your cheeks are, and feel how your walls are squeezing tightly around him.

"You gonna be a good girl and finish all over my cock, princess?" You feel a hand reach under your chin, placed firmy on your throat, a tight squeeze is applied as you feel his hot breath on your cheek. Sloppy kisses, and a traveling tongue, licking off all your sweat and tears. Having him so near and in control of your breathing makes you feel unbelievably hot. He could kill you right now, right at your high, and you wouldn't mind at all.

"I think I'm- Coop I'm gonna-," you’re whisper in his ear, and it only fuels him more.

He lifts your leg higher, hooking it over his free arm as he goes even deeper. "Show me how fuckin' good I make you feel, sweetheart,"

And with that you think you’re about to pass out, but instead you’re hit with the intense feeling of something combursting inside you. Your head slams back, and your hands reach up to grab the headboard of the bed, your knuckles turning white from the grip. You're dazed, exhausted, feeling the lingering pleasure from your orgasm still present inside your throbbing cunt. Cooper helps you ride out the orgasm in a slower pace while coming up close to his own.

"There you go doll, it's all right," His hand leaves your throat and he unhooks your leg to find your waist, placing them on each side. He's leaning back on his knees as he pumps himself into you, softly, slowly. Soft groans leaves his lips in heavy and hitched breaths as he gets closer.

Seeing you so beautifully dishevelled and limp beneath him, he starts guiding your exhausted body with his hands, pulling you onto his cock, using it to finish himself off. You allow him, cause you enjoy watching him his chest rise with every breath he takes. His eyes rolling back with pleasure from feeling your walls pulsate with each thrust, and with one last squeeze from you, he reaches his own climax.

His hands are grabbing your waist so tightly you can feel the bruises forming already, but all you can focus on is his heaving chest, and his exposed throat as his head is thrown back. Soft grunts and curses filling the room, and you imagine his eyes closed with painfully pleasurable bliss, all caused by you.

He rides out his own orgasm and tries to settle his breathing before he lifts himself off you. He doesn't look at you, but climbs tiredly out of the bed to readjust his clothing. You’re so sleepy, greasy, smelly, but you don't care. You're high, and happy.

You watch him at the edge of the bed, and you utter a soft 'Thank you', just to let him know you're grateful for risking the success of the job. You were meant to be delivered as a virgin after all.

You hear him chuckle from the foot of the bed, you guessed he’d never gotten a ‘thank you for fucking me’ from anybody before, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

"Close your eyes and get some sleep, alright?" Hell, he doesn’t need to tell you twice.

"I think that’s a good idea," You’re not really sure if the words ever left your mouth, being that you’re practically half asleep already. But you do notice the bed dipping slightly next to you, and how you’re gently being pushed on your side. Followed by something warm pressed up against your back, and gentle kisses being placed along your exposed neck.

What tomorrow brings doesn't matter in this moment.

Part 2?

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout #fallout reader #fallout fanfic #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout the ghoul #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #fallout smut

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thetypingpup · 1 month

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I really want to be railed by nerdy!hwa right about now. Just imagining him grabbing my your ankles and holding you open as he pounds into you, eyes focused on your body while his pretty mouth smirks at how you moan and whine, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose slightly because of how into it he’s getting just so smart and cocky and ahhhhhhhhh

Oh so you hate me fr...

Fuck he would be so damn cocky about it too. Just imagine how effortlessly he'd switch from holding you up by your hips and lifting you off the bed to grasping your ankles while you're hips are still hovering above the table, various books and papers strewn about. He wouldn't let you have a moment’s reprieve. Even while you're panting and trembling and whining incoherently, he'd still be pounding into you, still suspending you in ecstasy with a relentless onslaught of pleasure.

And when you do manage to open your eyes you just see him smirking down at you, beyond satisfied with the sight of you coming apart for him. His long hair would be pulled back so you could take in every detail of his cocky expression, the intensity in his eyes magnified by his glasses. He'd change your position so many times, bending you in half when he wants you to gasp and whine, wrapping your legs around his waist when he wants you to beg, holding your ankles up when he wants you to scramble to grab onto him. He controls your reactions completely, all while the pace of his hips doesn't falter for a moment. He changes up the tempo when he wants to and not a moment before. Of course he's panting from the effort too, losing just a bit of his sanity every time he sheathes his cock in your tight pussy, finding himself getting more delirious with pleasure by the moment. But it's your reactions that truly drive him insane. The way you cry out, the way you babble, the way you beg, the way your clothes are bunched and skewed over your gorgeous body, the way your glasses are askew over your pretty face, the way you contort and tremble so beautifully in response to his every move, all of it just makes him wanna double down and fuck you harder, to make you forget about everyone else you've ever been with.

He wants to ruin you. He wants to ruin the picturesque image of perfect you present to the world, and turn you into a sight that only a perverse hedonist would enjoy, a perverse hedonist like him. He wants to fuck you so good it ruins what you have with anyone else, all so you keep coming back to him. He wants to be the only one who sees you like this, the only one who gets to fuck you like this, the only one who's name is moaned and cried out from your pretty lips. Fuck he wants to be the only one who gets to feel you, who gets to touch you, who gets to play with you, who gets to make you cum, and that possessive rush of lust makes him grab you by the hips, tug you to the very edge of the table, and fuck you even harder, pressing against your innermost point of pleasure as if to make a point.

And he does. He wants you to feel every flashing burst of pleasure that has white dancing behind your eyes. He wants you to feel that spot that no one else has been able to reach with such intensity you can't speak, that you can barely fucking breathe. He wants to fuck you speechless, breathless, senseless, to the point where the only thing you can think is

"Seonghwa! Seonghwa! Zeonghwa!"

It takes everything in him to maintain composure as you cum. Your head tilts back, your body arching up as your shoulders are precariously balanced on the table, curving into the most alluring depiction of euphoria. You clench around him so tight you almost push him out, but he doesn't let you go. With a rough groan he grabs your hips and shoves his cock all the way inside you, resisting your repellant pulsations and keeping himself fully sheathed inside you.

"Don't you dare push me out now." His voice is lowered to a commanding growl and you swear you lose all cognizance for a moment or two. He sounds so demanding and so desperate that you feel compelled to comply, even as you lose all control of yourself. The only thing you know in that moment is obedience and the intensity of your orgasm. The grip of his hands combined with the desperation in his tone just amplifies your ecstasy even more, and you're left screaming and shaking and haphazardly grabbing onto him for purchase.

The sight of you coming undone like this, the delicious rippling of your core around his cock as you ride the waves of bliss, all because of him, is almost enough to have him cumming on the spot. And he would, if he wasn't determined to make you cum again.

#ateez smut #ateez seonghwa smut #ateez x you #ateez x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x reader #lost myself a bit writing this 😳

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jeansplaytoy · 5 months

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detailed aot boy hc’s

cursing , fluff , real life chronicles , proof read later .

connie would most definitely be one of those boyfriends that when you would be like “bae, you wanna watch baddies east wit me?” he’ll be like “hell naw girl.” next minute you be watching it, his ass know everything, everybody. “rollie big ass pissin me off bruh.”

ony makes the jersey club remixes.

but eren and connie get tf down and make most of the jersey club dances.

armins obsessed with gypsy rose. don’t even ask.

connie and ony used to get tore tf up by them switches from outside. they moms have each other permission to whoop them. that’s how bad they was.

eren was a clumsy ass kid. he got scars from when he was a toddler.

armin got into so many secret bathroom fights that nobody knows about.

connie is not friendly fr. he friendly to people he know but he really mean asf to people he don’t know. and that goes for girls too. (only if they try to act all hard and shit.)

jeans teeth are highly sensitive to cold things. he lowkey hates cold water and can only eat ice cream really carefully.

connie used to have a head full of hair when he was little but his mom got tired of doing it was cut it off.

eren was (and lowkey still is) tender headed asf.

ony wasn’t able to watch dennis the menace, rarely able to watch home alone, or problem child because every time he did, he’d try to copy what they did.

armin rage quits a lot. like… a lot. so he always has a new set up or console every month.

jean bites his tongue every day on accident.

y’all know them knew scars them bad kids be having? yeah, connie got bout three of em.

armin cant keep a girlfriend 💀 the only girlfriend he could keep was you.

jean used to be scared of the cat in the hat live action.

eren greened out a LOT in highschool. nigga was a whole marijuana plant his self. he just calmed down after he graduated.

ony got chased by so many damn dogs when he was younger.

connie tried to fight the principal one time because he tried to suspend him because someone lied like connie got in a bathroom fight.

armin got the attitude of a divorced wife. when i tell you he gets mad so damn quick when people that ain’t his friends try to fuck wit him.

connie get smoked every time he eat freedos around the group because they his favorite chips and nobody knows why he like em.

eren got his door took off the frame one time.

jean tried to sneak out his parents window because they permanently locked his. he broke his arm that same night.

armin loves playing in your hair. like he really loves it.

ony got caught skipping school one day when he was in elementary 💀 that ass whoopin was one he’ll never forget.

eren talks so sweet to you but talks mean irl.

armin hates other girls for real, other than sasha and mikasa, and you of course.

connie dyed his happy trail grey.

y’all know them “play fights” boys be having and then they start hitting hard asf and then be breathing heavy asf when they done acting like nothing happened? connie and ony got into one of them in highschool. also armin and eren, and armin and connie.

eren used to have a bald spot from trying to cut his own hair with a razor.

last but not least, jean used to have that sad simpson pfp in middle school. 😭

#aot x reader #aot headcanons #jeansplaytoy♡︎#eren x reader #eren headcanons #connie x reader #connie headcanons #ony x reader #jean kirschtein headcanons #jean x reader #armin x reader #armin headcanons #aot imagines

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flowermiist · 4 months

Text

A warm heart - I

Click here to read the prologue if you haven’t ♡

Pairing: John Price x Fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Some time ago, you started a cooking channel on YouTube as a way to relax, have a proper hobby and teach others your favorite recipes as you improved your own culinary skills too. Fame wasn't something you wanted, you were more than happy with your 50k subscribers... Yet you never thought you'd stumble upon one of them.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: I would like to start off by saying thank you for all the kind comments, likes and reblogs the prologue has gotten. I was going to make this chaper longer but wanted to leave some intrigue. I’m currently working on the second chapter as I post this. Again, thank you so so much. Don’t forget to like, reblog and comment please. ♡

“Didn’t know you were that much into cooking, cap.” Garrick says, hiding a smirk and almost teasing as he sits across the captain who simply gives him a small cranky huff and his tired eyes stick back to the screen of his phone with the video playing.

Only one of the wired earbuds is connected to his ear as he watches every single detail almost carefully –

“Improving my cooking skills, somethin’ the lot of you should start doing.”

It was by far clear that John wasn’t in the best of moods after a stressing mission, his voice much hoarser and raspier than usual – the scent of the cheap cigar he had gotten from a gas station fills the tent as Mactavish sleeps with arms crossed, his head hanging low and Simon keeps guard – his eyes moving towards the conversation from time to time.

“Been trying to get the hang of it…” He speaks again with a sigh and an attempt not to be too grumpy, trying to remain as composed as he can while wiping off the sweat from his forehead, the lines on his rough skin becoming accentuated as he slightly frowns.

“And how’s it going?” Gaz asks with more curiosity now, looking at his captain and placing his elbows on the wooden table.

“Good, ’s far as I can tell.” Is all John responds, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he tries to sink deeper into the folding wooden chair tapping his cigar against the makeshift ashtray (which was simply an empty can of tuna) as the already weak string of smoke dies away.

You quickly scramble out of the bathroom, uniform already displayed on your bed. Stopping in right front of your vanity and placing a hand against the wall as you lean closer to the mirror to get a better look, trying to be as careful as possible not to mess up your lipstick – the moment you can’t find your shoes, you just get more irritated and the irritation mixing with yesterday’s hangover is not a pretty feeling, especially at this time of day.

You know you no longer have time to find your comfortable shoes the moment you look at the watch on your left wrist so you move towards your closet and take out a pair of nude stiletto heels, not the most convenient or comfortable ones but better than going barefoot to work or using one of your “I’m only here at the club to dance and get laid tonight.” pumps.

The moment you step into your car and try to start the engine, it makes that funny noise you hate but know too well to ignore.

“C’mon… let’s not embarrass ourselves, will you stop acting up before a neighbor notices and calls me broke?” You mumble to your own car like a crazy woman as the engine struggles to start.

Three days, three whole damned days since the engine of your car has been struggling to start and has started getting on your nerves – you tried to contact Harrison, your mechanic and the asshole has been completely ignoring your calls, he not only overpriced every little thing he did to your car but also thought you were some sort of stupid woman who didn’t know anything about your own car.

Sure, you could just drive to his garage and tell him the problem right away, but you were loaded with work these days and this man’s policy was to book in through a phone call to get your call fixed – otherwise, he refused to fix anything. And knowing him, there was no way he’d pick up any of your calls anytime soon.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips the moment your car decides to cooperate and the engine starts. “Good girl...” You whisper through your teeth with a smile, moving your finger towards the screen of the radio to start it.

“Well damn! Doesn’t someone look sexy as hell this morning?” Zaila says as she looks at you up and down from her desk – obviously noticing the shoes you chose this morning, you smile at her as you walk towards the reception.

“Well, to your information, I was actually thinking about bringing the leopard print ones you love so much…” You speak with a playful tone while you put your purse on top of her counter.

You give her a sly smirk, checking in with the fingerprint scan she places in front of you.

“I know I’m late… I’m hungover and my car is acting up again and that asshole won’t-” before you can even finish, Zaila moves her hand up to stop you, her various bracelets jingle on her wrist when she does this, stopping you from opening your mouth to explain any further.

You sigh as you already know what she’s about to say.

“Don’t think about it, alright? I was late too – stayed up fighting with that annoying witch living next door. Barely got any rest.”

Zaila says and you smile.

“Somethin’ to laugh about?” She asks, raising an eyebrow and giving you her best warning look.

“No ma’am.” You say with a thankful smile, getting a hold of your purse again before lightly squeezing Zaila’s soft hand and walking away towards your consulting room.

You check your phone while the computer on the desk turns on, you check your channel and smile to yourself while reading some of the comments from your lasagna recipe.

You definitely worked hard for that video and your subscribers seemed to really like it – you were aware that the ages of your views were something quite varied. From teenagers learning how to cook for themselves to middle aged adults improving in the kitchen.

Looking back at the computer in front of you, you put your phone down and begin organizing and checking some files from your patients.

Coming here with Zaila for lunch break was a good idea as always. Both of you laugh, gossip and enjoy lunch break while you sit at the small fancy restaurant that’s right across the street from the clinic.

Zaila went to the bathroom as the two of you waited for the food you ordered to arrive, leaving you alone at the table. You looked through your purse to grab your small mirror when your phone started buzzing from the call you were now receiving.

You grab it and look at the screen, reading the name of the contact, “Harrison - Mechanic.” – you huff and roll your eyes as you answer the call from the asshole that had been ignoring you for the past three days.

“Am I speaking to my favorite client?” The mechanic says, his tone sounding almost cheerful, you’ve known this man for some time now and you know him well enough to know he’s probably drunk.

“So you ignore your favorite client’s calls for three days straight now?” You reply to him. It sounds too rude, you know that but this man is an asshole too and him ignoring you was three times worse than your words.

“Oh c’mon… I’ve just been… uh…” – you wait in silence and look at your nails, already wondering what excuse he’s going to give you.

“–that doesn’t matter now since I’m talking to you, aye? What seems to be the problem with your lady?”

“What makes you think I’ll go back to your garage?” You speak, almost irritated, then catch a glimpse of Zaila from the corner of your eye while she talks to one of the waiters on her way back to the table.

“I’ll give you a discount, how ’bout that, doc? No need to make this call any longer, just, eh, come over and I’ll check on her.” Harrison speaks and you swear you can almost see that annoying smile of his as he speaks.

“You sure you won’t “forget” about your promise when I get there?” You speak, your tone almost sarcastic.

“Would I ever lie to my favorite client?” – Yeah he definitely would, but your car needs a mechanic now and as big of an asshole Harrison can be, you have to admit he’s good at his work when he wants to be.

“Alright, I’ll try to be there after work.” You finally say, ending the call to look at Zaila who is now sitting back on her chair.

John walks through the cereal aisle, gripping the steel handle as the wheels roll. He wasn’t in such a bad mood now that he left base, with the leave he got, he actually felt more relaxed.

The man would not deny he was more used to walking through the halls of a military base than walking through the long aisles of a supermarket – maybe he’d go for a few drinks after this, not wanting to spend his time isolated at home for too long. John clears his throat and rubs forehead and eyes with his fingertips, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He has the essentials in his cart, some milk, vegetables, juice, meat, rice and the three-in-one shampoo he has grown used to.

As John moves his cart towards the register, he glances at two adults and a child – the boy no older than five years and throwing quite the show as he cries and squirms on the floor while he grips a box with children’s toys. He looks at the adults that seem to be his parents, a man and a woman with worried and irritated look on their faces as they try to calm him down.

Was this the reason he never looked forward to starting a family, ugly temper tantrums? No, that would only be another excuse – Maybe the demands of his job? It would be too selfish to leave a woman whom he’d call his wife by herself taking care of a kid while he was in the middle of god-knows-where.

Had he given up the idea of starting a family of his own? Because it surely seemed late for him to try.

Did he want that life? Was he getting tired of going home to an empty house? He didn’t really know if he could call his house a home, it didn’t exactly feel like the concept of a warm family waiting for him, some kids, a wife and a dog – but at least, no children or a wife would be missing him and suffering while waiting for him to get home. To get back home from a job that has his life on the line between life and death, between doing terrible things to accomplish a greater purpose and getting his hands dirtier than ever.

His bubble of thoughts are popped with a sharp pin as the cashier looks at him and speaks, clearing her throat and almost giving him a dirty look for staying so still while glancing at the family – “Sir, you’re next.” The woman speaks as he looks at her.

“Right, sorry.” The rugged man says as he starts moving the things of his cart to the register.

You didn’t drive to Harrison’s right away after work, you stopped at home and took a shower, changing your clothes and then stopping at the grocery store – It was supposed to be a quick trip but you almost throw your bags on the floor of the store’s parking lot as you notice your rear left tire almost entirely flat.

“Fuck…” you mumble as you approach it, your breath hitches and you try to remain as calm as possible, lowering the grocerie bags on the floor, not caring about them getting dirty anymore.

You approach the tire and give it two small kicks to check how soft it was, it would be impossible to drive to your mechanic with a tire like this.

You knew how to change a tire, sure – your father had shown you a long time ago after a nail punctured one of the rear wheels of his truck. But that was too long ago for you to remember step by step and you knew the mechanic would not pick up if you called him to come here and help you. Even if he did, the man would overcharge you as always and you were not about to tolerate that, not after he promised you a discount to fix what was wrong with the engine.

Opening the trunk of your car, you search for a way to lift the liner carpet knowing the tire tools might be underneath it – You grunt as you lift the heavy box and see the spare tire underneath it. Right as you struggle to lift it a voice interrupts you.

“Need any help with that?” You turn around towards the husky unknown voice you just heard just to see a man standing there with his own grocery bags.

The silence is almost palpable as you look at him.

“Changing a tyre by yourself can be hard.” He says again, you huff after hearing his words –

“Are you suggesting I can’t do it by myself?”

you blurt out, immediately biting your tongue as you realize how rude and bitchy that must have sounded, but before you can even correct yourself the man speaks.

“Wasn’t making any suggestions, miss, just trying to lend a helping hand.” The man doesn’t seem phased in the slightest by the tone you used. He speaks with such eloquence and calmness that you are surprised he didn’t get offended and leave right after you spoke.

“Sorry, I- That was really rude of me.” You say, almost blushing from the embarrassment you just put yourself through with your own words, you didn’t mean to take your frustration out on a man offering his help.

“All is forgiven, miss.” He takes one step closer and looks at the trunk of the car where the spare tire is. What you didn’t know is that he recognized you the moment he heard your voice and saw your face, it had to be you – the girl from the cooking videos he has been watching for the last whole month; yet he was not about to comment on it because if for some reason it actually wasn’t you then it would make things too awkward, he thought.

“May I?” You immediately nod and stop staring.

“Yes- But… I wouldn’t want to bother you though.” He shakes his head and lowers his grocerie bags onto the floor.

“Not a bother at all, miss. I was just heading home. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes to change it.” You clear your throat and nod as the man speaks, the embarrassment going away.

“You sure?”

“Quite sure.”

You step aside as he lifts the spare tire with such ease only using one of his arms and using his other hand as he grabs he handle of your car’s toolbox with the other hand.

The man moves to kneel down right in front of the tire and you take a moment to inspect him. By the accent, he is clearly from here. Icy blue eyes and a masculine rugged look, not to the point he’s too intimidating but nearly there. The navy blue t-shirt he wears looks a bit tight on him, he seems older than you by a few years not too many though – you can clearly tell that by the few lines on his forehead and the few grey hairs on his dark brown beard. Last time you saw someone wearing such interesting mutton chops beard with that moustache was during a disney movie.

You try not to stare when the muscles on his arms flex the moment he grips the wheel brace as he loosens the wheel bolts by twisting them.

“You’ve got experience, I reckon.” You say as he carefully aligns the scissor jack under the jacking point of your car, he looks at you and nods with a very small smile.

“Not to brag, miss. Done this many times.” His voice rumbling on his chest, the two of you make some eye contact for a single second and he breaks it by moving the wheel brace to the jack. – “Had any trouble with your car ’fore?” He asks as the tool begins to lift up the car slowly when he twists it.

“I was about to drive to my mechanic’s after he spent three days ignoring my calls, some engine problems.” The man listens to you carefully.

“I believe three day’s enough to know your mechanic might be too irresponsable – Not to intrude with my comments though.” He moves to take out the old tire.

You sigh and nod “He’s an asshole, I know.” Your chuckle makes him sigh and give you a small chuckle of his own as he places the wheel down, shaking his head slowly.

He still can’t believe he’s seeing you in person – Well, that might sound weird but the man has seen too many of your cooking videos to deny it’s you.

“Mind giving me a small class?” You ask, taking a step closer – how ironic, he’s been the one watching your cooking recipes and learning from them and now he’s the one teaching you?

He nods.

“Wanna try?” He suggests and you oblige by grabbing the tool. “This is the lug wrench, right?” You ask and he nods again.

“We call them wheel braces ’ere but yes – It is.” He moves to grab the replacement tire and aligns the holes of the bolt with the lugs and begins to tighten them.

“These are the wheel bolts, you twist ’em with your hands as much as you can ’fore you lower the car with your jack and tighten them again usin’ the brace.” The way he explains it to you almost makes you blush as you are leaning forward and looking at the tire like a child at the aquarium.

You glance at his arms as he lowers the car using the jack again, making that twisting movement that makes the muscles on his arms even bigger, and the veins on his rough hands more noticeable.

The english man tightens the bolts before fully removing the jack from under your car, he lets out a quiet, deep grunt when he gets up again. You help him by grabbing some of the tools as he grabs the old wheel that was apparently pricked by a rusty nail.

“Good as new now, eh?” He says and you realize your mistake after be places the old tire in the trunk of your car. –“I’m so sorry- uh, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Y/N.” That clicks in John’s head, it really was you and he was almost amused to say the least.

“No need to be sorry. ’m John, John Price.”

You shake his hand, not caring in the slightest about the dust on his hand from manipulating all those tools and both tires – his hand feels rough, calloused as if he’s too used to doing these type of things often, the heavy work.

“Forgive me if this sounds strange but ’m pretty sure I’ve watched your videos a few times. Cooking, right?” John says after your hands separate.

You are immediately surprised, almost in awe and he can tell by the look on your face. You try to keep your jaw as tight as you humanly can – almost as if it would comically fall to the floor is you dared to open it.

“Yeah, that’s… me, yes.” You smile at him widely. “You’ve really watched my videos?” You ask, amused, all your worries go away as his words make your whole week, it’s the first time something like this has happened to you.

“Could say ’m a bit of a fan, actually.” He gives you a smile of his own before he continues talking and looking into your eyes, deeply.

“Wanted to start improving my skills and happened to watch one of your videos, the food I prepared turned out surprisingly well – subscribed ’bout a month ago and… been watching ’em ever since.” That raspy and collected tone of his almost soothes your nerves.

“I’m shocked- I’ve never met any of my subscribers…” You admit with a smile full of excitement.

“Well, ’sppose there’s always a first time, innit?” – there is a comfortable silence after you nod but is broken by John looking back at your car.

“You mentioned there was a problem with the engine, that right?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Mhm, it stops sometimes and it can be tricky to start it.” You speak with a sheepish smile and the man crosses his arms as he stands in front of you.

“Want me to take a look?” Honestly? You’d like to talk to him more but you have to get to Harrison’s befoee he closes and you don’t want to keep John here forever, as happy as you are right now. His grocerie bags are on the floor with yours, completely forgotten and you wouldn’t want him to waste his time.

“Don’t worry, I was on my way to the mechanic anyway. Wouldn’t want to keel you here forever.”

“You sure?” John looks at your car then back at you – you give him a nod and he sighs.

“Well… If the engine’s been playin’ games with ya and stops on your way there. Let me know, I mean-” He scrounches up his face in annoyance when the excuse of giving you his number gets too obvious but the sound of the giggle that escapes your lips makes it go away.

“Could use your number for that.” You say quicker than you expected and he immediately smiles, clicking his tongue and taking out his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“Right.” John says with that deep husky tone rumbling on his chest and a small smile on his face, almost a shy one.

After getting his number, you glance at his brown boots as he lifts up his bags and gives you a small goodbye nod, you wave your hand at him and smile almost stupidly.

“It was nice meetin’ you, Y/N.” John says and you nod too.

“It was nice meeting you too, John.”

As he makes his way to his own truck, you lift up your long forgotten bags and put them in the backseat of your car before you start the engine and sigh in relief since it didn’t give you any trouble this time.

“Well that was hot…” You mumble with a smile as you reverse the car.

Taglist: @bumblebeesfromvenus @thesevi0lentdelights @zekes-beard (Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be added! ♡)

#captain price #john price #call of duty #john price x reader #cod #cod mw2 #captain price x reader #captain price x you #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod modern warfare #fanfic

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bakugoushotwife · 8 months

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kinktober day ten: breeding kink

>>> so i actually think he would be able to get his partner preggers but that's because i say so xoxo but also bc maybe ce doesn't affect the reproductive system?? idc if it does he deserves a family!

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: breeding kink thank you, pregnancy kink, choso is obsessed w his wife hours, oral (fem), creampie, >>> wc: 2.2k >>> event masterlist:

he’ll never forget the day you told him you were pregnant. it was something he had considered impossible, to the point he never bothered wearing a condom or cumming anywhere but inside you. seeing you pregnant only made sure those things wouldn’t change. you were already so perfect to him that it was almost unnerving, even all these years of marriage in. he fell in love with you the moment he met you back in shibuya, but somehow you had become even more beautiful to him.

he was obsessed, almost to the point of embarrassment, if choso understood the concept in regards to his love for his wife. but he wasn’t shy about being yours. it was all so new to him, the idea of fatherhood, viewing you as a mother, watching you change before his very eyes and all the long doctors appointments. he loves it though, oddly enough. especially the notion of being a dad and watching your body and mindset shift and grow.

choso can tend to be clueless due to his rather unconventional navigation of life, but ever since he learned how to work a cell phone, the internet has been his very best friend. unfortunately, yuji can give some very…troublesome advice. choso thinks it’s a miracle he’s still alive at times. so google can help in ways his earnest younger brother cannot, giving him multiple opinions and sources on what to do and how to do it. he spends hours of his time researching how to care for you; wanting to know if it was normal to be this attracted to you while you were all moody and pouty with just the start of roundness at the bottom of your belly—the jury was still out on that one, by the way.

one thing that was normal was your increased need for him, not like he was complaining. he loved this side effect the most, able to satiate his perverse desire to keep stuffing his already pregnant wife full, relishing in how eager and frankly nasty you had gotten. you were damn near insatiable, and choso thought he was in heaven for it. all through your first and second trimesters, you couldn’t get enough of him—and the feeling was mutual. as you grew larger and the house became cluttered with baby shower gifts and preparations for baby kamo, he continued to clock hours towards his family. he read article after article on parenting, actively assembling the nursery and searching up names with you. he was beyond joyful, still unable to believe that you were growing his son or daughter within that gorgeous body of yours, your breasts had started to swell and your hips had begun to spread. he loved every second of this: your neediness, everything about how you look while making him a father, and the way his friends circled around him and became such a supportive family.

his thoughts bordered on crazy, a haunting desire to keep you like this all the time, lounging around the house in your pretty maternity dresses doing nothing but being waited on hand and foot; relaxing while stroking your swelling stomach. it’s what suited you best, he thinks—stretched out along the couch basking in the rays of the sun beating in through the living room window, snacking on a fruit board he made you and baby. he’s nearly foaming at the mouth, your long robe-style dress clinging to all the delicious curves of your body; the light cotton seemed to outline your heavy boobs, tight around your semi-hardened nipples. it hugged your six-and-a-half-month sized bump, your other hand resting there protectively. choso was stuck in the moment, trying to commit every detail of you to memory. he almost didn’t hear your chortle of disbelief.

“you said what, now, babe?” you whip your head towards him, heart fluttering violently at what he uttered— you needed him to say it again. it was easy to grow addicted to your husband, building his spawn had you needier than ever. even the smell of him had you going absolutely feral level insane even though this pregnancy had been the highlight of your life so far. you thought your clinginess and desire was driving him to his own insanity, figuring he must hate tending to you and your attitude as of late. you must have just heard him incorrectly.

“huh?” he blinked, violet eyes refocusing on your plush lips speaking to him. “what did i say?” he asks, just as confused as you are. his cheeks darken anyways, as if you caught him doing something naughty, which only makes you believe your ears were in fact not deceiving you.

“you said you should keep me like this all time.” you chuckle, full on tilting your head towards him from your spot on the sofa. he averts his gaze as soon as you meet him, and you let out a teasing fake gasp. “my husband wants to keep me barefoot and pregnant, huh? you know that’s pretty outdated…”

he shakes his head, embarrassed immediately. great, now you thought he was some sick perv, which isn’t completely off base, he guessed, but still! it wasn’t like that, he didn’t view you like some machine built only to churn out his kids and cook him dinner!

“n-no! i mean—you look great like this, b—”

“i’m just fucking around, love. i thought it was sexy.” you grin, throwing a wink his way. he clicks his tongue at you and huffs at the teasing, even though he’s definitely intrigued by the latter half of your sentence. you arch your brow, waiting for him to ask for clarification. you could see him fighting it in his head before your very eyes. the scrunch of his nose tells you that you’ve won.

“yeah? what’s that supposed to mean?” he says from his spot in the recliner nearby, always opting to be close to you. you smile knowingly at him, humming in thought mostly for the dramatics.

“mayhaps i enjoy the idea of you keeping me pregnant…especially if i get spoiled like this every time.” you giggle, shrugging a little bit. “maybe i’ll feel differently after i actually have this one.” you pat your tummy affectionately, and he thinks he may be drooling. you always play so coy, but he can see the way you rub your thighs together and the clouds that darken in your sunshiney eyes. he may be regularly clueless, but the one thing he knows all too well is your body.

“hm, i think it’s because you’re a sex-crazed maniac now and know pregnancy gets you off the hook.” he deadpans, though his heart is beating rapidly in his chest and in his cock. you call his bluff, rolling your eyes viciously.

“isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.” you huff, spreading your legs out on the couch in a silent command. he smirks, not at all caring that you caught him. he nods a bit, holding his hands up.

“got me. i just didn’t know how much i would love this.” he says, the husk in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. your thighs press together when he obeys your body language, rising from his seat and making his way to the couch. he sits at your feet of course, smiling so sweetly. his warm hands gently pry your knees apart, and you wonder if he knows just how seductive the look he gives you is. his chin is angled down, hooded purple eyes singing a siren song that makes your legs fall apart again and your fingers pull at the tie keeping your dress together. he growls at the sight of your exposed body, his hands rubbing trails from your knees to your hips and down your thighs again. “you’re so perfect…can you blame me?”

you roll your eyes but wear a stupid grin at his praise, shaking your head to his question. you knew better than to be insecure over your changing body, especially with all the extra attention it’s garnered you. truth be told, you had never felt more beautiful, the life growing inside you breathing new life into your own appearance, and your husband never missed an opportunity to make you feel like a goddess amongst mortals. he would never dream of making you uncomfortable or asking you to accommodate him, so he folds himself into the space he has so that his face hovers above your shiny middle. his breath alone makes you moan, a hand flying up to cover your embarrassment. you always react like you’ve never been touched before and choso loves it almost as much as the sight of your round stomach and even rounder mounds above. he brings his thumb over you, wanting to watch you as he draws slow circles over your hardened clit. he hums, a little smile on his face as you jerk and squirm. your hips buck into his mouth instantly with cute whines slipping past your lips as your hands struggle to reach for his collarbone length black hair. he leans up a bit to help you, just the feeling of his rough thumb pad against your need turned you into a mess within seconds.

“nngh–oh choso, feels so–mmph good already.” you gasp, hands dropping to fondle your aching breasts. he nods and sits up to spit a warm and fat glob on your cunt, his thick thumb dragging it all over your spasming need. the lewdness of his action coupled with the nonchalant way he watches, tongue poking around your hole like nothing ever happened, has your brain spinning without much effort. your hips drive into the relief he offers, chasing your orgasm like you’d never before experienced one—despite the clear proof otherwise. he allows it, never in his life would he keep you from feeling good. he’s honored to be the one who causes those pretty sounds to fill the room, to be the father of the child making your beauty so ethereal, to be the man tongue deep in your perfect pussy. “gonna–ohhhh–”

your sweet release coats his tongue, his thumb still working you down slowly so he could relish in the face you make from sheer pleasure. he sits back up, a little more comfortable on his knees as he leans over you to give you a sloppy kiss filled with your own essence. he’s had to be much more careful since you’re getting bigger, but he doesn’t mind making sweet love to his beautiful baby mama. you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping his mouth against you while his hands are busy freeing himself from his sweatpants. you gasp into his mouth when you feel his length parting your folds and prodding at your hole. he only nibbles at your lip to tell you that he’ll be gentle, sheathing himself within your wet warmth slowly. you tense around him and relax, sighing happily at the feeling of him rocking into you at a tender pace. he moves his kisses to the sides of your cheeks, your jaw, picking up his speed until he has to sit back up properly to angle himself right.

“more, you’re not gonna break me daddy.” you pant, hand braced on the ridges of his defined abs. he sighs begrudgingly, only because he’d been repressing the same urge ever since you welcomed him inside. he relents, lifting one of your legs to rest against his hip before driving into you a bit harder. you moan wildly and nod, nearly screaming. “god—just like that.”

“anything for you mama, s’cute you need it hard, such a good girl letting me get a little rough.” he grunts, squeezing the hold he has on your thigh. you feel so different, still so tight and warm but with a different kind of wetness. he’s a mess too, championing himself with that nickname you bestowed upon him. his strokes are so well-timed, letting you feel every drag of his cock against you, the tip of him nailing the spot you need him most. “so perfect. you gonna let me keep this pretty hole bred?”

you nod, the words sending you close to your tipping point. you shake your head, too gone to speak to let him know that you were going to cum. you don’t have to tell him though, he can tell from the intense fluttering of your sloppy cunt, and he’s happy to have lasted this long trapped in your clutches. you’re slapping at his stomach, legs shaking around him as you scream again, the sound so primal it sends goosebumps prickling along his skin right before he’s stuffing you full as if you weren’t already carrying his seed. you squeeze down on him, making sure he empties his balls in you. he stays there until he goes soft, and then he slumps against the side of the couch. your giggles make him perk up, his violet eyes cutting over to see you crawling towards him with a mischievous glint to your eyes. he knows he’s right when you swing your leg over his lap, angling him back inside you.

“don’t worry—just wanna sit on it.” you titter, wrapping your arms around his neck again, pressing your body as close as you could for a hug. he twitches from sensitivity as you lower yourself back over him, but a smile spreads across his face all the same.

“how many kids can i give you, mama?” he groans in your ear as his arms tighten around your waist securely.

#jjk x reader #kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #jjk smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso smut #choso jjk #kamo choso

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buckyalpine · 9 months

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Fic idea - Bucky’s family & time travel

You know how I keep proposing ideas, then adding it to my wips and then I stare at it while it stares at me. Heres another. I'm so sorry. Swear this will end in fluff, you'll just suffer in between. So imagine the most angstiest angst where Bucky gets married and has a child with his sweetheart before he’s sent to war. He's loved her his whole life and now they have a little one together; nothing could be more perfect. He promises he'll be back safe and sound with a kiss to her forehead and plenty of kisses for his baby girl.

Until Hydra captures him and turns him into the Winter Soldier. His first mission is to eliminate any familial ties. He doesn't feel anything when he pulls the trigger. He's successful and carries out hundreds of others kills, each searing itself in some part of his brain but he's constantly wiped before he can piece anything together.

But then he's rescued and he has to pick up the broken fragments of his memories and its too much of a fog for him to understand. At the very least he has his best friend by his side again and he's slowly starting to remember.

His first question is about his sweet y/n and his little girl.

His happiness is short-lived when Steve doesn't say anything. Bucky doesn't understand why he avoids his gaze, why he suddenly looks so distraught. No amount of pleading or begging works, his best friend doesn't breathe a word, asking Bucky to please let things be.

To learn to live with the way things were.

He can't do that though. He needs answers. When the team is away on a mission, he find a way to get into his records that SHIELD kept on him, wondering if they ever had anything on file about his life before he was captured. Every single detail about who he was before the war to after is written with details and camera footage.

He doesn't move from where he's seated, a blank expression on his face while everyone returns. Steve approaches Bucky first, worried about why the soldier looked so pale as if he'd aged 10 years in the past 3 days.

"I killed them?" His broken whisper of a voice breaks Steve's heart when he sees the file Bucky was looking at, a picture of him, his little girl on his shoulders and wife all smiling at the camera. The sheet he's clutching onto has their names along with deceased written write across the sheet.

Bucky is inconsolable.

His dreams are no longer about others he has killed. He's flooded with memories of her; the soft ivory dress she wore on their wedding day, the baby pink lace she had on when he undressed her that same night, the scent of her perfume, the sound of her laugh, the kicks of their baby, the sound of her happy squeals when he blew raspberries onto her chubby cheeks.

Those happy memories are quickly replaced with her pleading for him to remember. To just remember at least once.

Jamie, it's me, please, m'your y/n, Bucky, don't-

D-daddy?

Baby, go to your room-Bucky no-

Mama!

Please, not Bella, James, you love her baby, you love us- please remember me-

I-I love you

The pain of Bucky's cries are too much for anyone to handle. They're a different type of sadness. So much so, even Tony's starting to worry when he doesn't see Bucky for days on end. He begs to be put back in cyro, to have his memories wiped, to have his brain fried, anything to forget. He doesn't care about the pain, he just wants it all to end.

Imagine theres a mission that involves time travel. Steve and Sam stand on the platform, ready to enter the portal, setting their timers for a specific date in the past. When Sam catches Steve adding another date without telling him, he quietly adds it on his suit as well, piecing what the Captain plans on doing.

The mission takes a little longer than anticipated. Steve is surprised when Sam is beside him when he travels back to the 40's, the both of them now with a new mission in mind, alternating the future be damned. If they had a chance to give Bucky the life he deserved again, they would do it. Bucky doesn't ask for much. In fact he never asked for anything. He deserved this.

Imagine the shock everyone gets when the portal opens up at the compound and there are now 4 people on the platform. Steve, Sam, a woman and a little girl no older than 2. She's dressed in a simple dotted dress, still wearing an apron around her waist while her baby stays clinging around her, tucking her face into her mommas neck.

Imagine the way Bucky would collapse with her when he sees his family again, crying endlessly being able to hold his wife and child, something he thought he'd lost forever. Everyone gives the little family some privacy while he hugs and kisses them, cuddling them to his chest, still right on the lab floor. Explanations for everything can wait, right now he can't believe he has his angels back.

Imagine the way they'd fall asleep that night, sleeping in bed for once, now that he's reunited with his y/n and his Bella.

imagine the endless love he'd make to her while Bella spends time with her God Fathers, aka all the Avenger men.

Imagine she's pregnant soon after and they can continue being a family in the present, doing all the things they always dreamed of.

Anyway, just a thought.

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world-of-aus · 3 months

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AHEM. GOOD EVENING! I hope you're alive because I'm not 🤤

I am not okay, but I was inspired...

Worth Every Penny

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: HEA. Pinch of Insecurities, Fluff, a doting and loving Bucky Barnes.

You can feel his eyes on you as you adjust the lone button beneath his bowtie, your fingers smoothing over the fabric as you list the details of tonight's charity auction.

“You’ll be called on after Steve, and please for the love of God don’t forget to smile.” you say as your eyes meet his. There’s a grin on his pink lips, “like that,” you point tapping the stubble skin of his cheek. His hand wraps around your wrist keeping you there, “as long as you promise to raise your number tonight, I’ll smile all you want me too.”

You only half roll your eyes, pushing your tongue against your cheek to keep your own smile in check, “I will not be responsible for your father’s death James.” He laughs, hand finding your waist, fingers curling to pull you flush against his chest, “good thing you’ll be with Ma, you can wave that number of yours as much as you want, put it on my card even sweetheart.”

“James.”

The hand that held your wrist finds your cheek, his touch comforting as he searches your gaze, “sweetheart if I cared what my father thought I’d be his next in line, but I’m not, I’m running my own show, the way my father should have – and you and everyone else that matters knows that. So wave your number if you want to – or don’t because at the end of the night I’m coming home to you regardless of what anyone thinks, says, or does.”

“B,” you murmur and he can’t help but to chuckle because he knows he’s got you now. He feels you melt into him, “stop thinking, can see those gears running, don’t care what anyone has to say tonight, just care about you.”

He makes it so easy for you to forget the whole world, forget the two very ‘different’ worlds you came from, the ones certain individuals just loved to make so painfully obvious to you – to him. And between your internal scolding and Bucky’s constant reassurance you knew you shouldn’t care, nobody else mattered except the man that held you in his arms but you couldn’t help it, their whispered words stung. They all only saw you as the successful mob bosses secretary. To many like him you weren’t his equal, weren’t worthy of his time except for making sure to keep track of his time.

A knock on his office door pulls the two of your from the intimate moment, the two of you stepping away from one another. Sam’s voice calls for the two of you, “it’s time, we’ve got to head out now.” You smoothed him over one more time, Sam pushing the door open further, “remember,” you say running a hand over his cheek “smile.”

Sam calls for you one more time now fully waiting for you by the open doorway arm waiting for yours. You turn to move over to him but Bucky’s hand stops you, “Ill always choose you, remember that.” You give him a smile, one the two of you know doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Bucky wont let you leave like that so he pulls you to him, his lips finding yours in an unexpected but reassuring kiss.

He only hands you over to Sam when he knows he’s kissed you breathless, “Take care of her Sam,” he tells his best friend and right-hand. Sam nods looping your arm with his, “you know I will, cars out front, your ma and sister are waiting.”

The two of you follow your boss, out of his office making sure he makes it out to the car, Winnie rolling the window down to coo over you, “you looks absolutely stunning in that dress!” “we’ll save you and Sam a seat,” Rebecca calls from next to her mom.

Before he enters the car with his mom and sister Bucky turns to the two of you, “when you get there, the four of you stay together,” he turns to Sam, “don’t let either of them out of your sight.”

“I’ve got it handled man, get out of here before you get there late and your dad blows a damn fuse.” You and Sam watch him get into the car, watching it pull out of the driveway shortly after before moving to your own vehicle.

“You know George will blow a fuse tonight either way right?” you laugh as you buckle yourself in. Sam laughs as he puts the car into drive, “Seeing Bucky alone will have him popping a blood vessel, that man can’t stand to see his son succeed.”

The gala is in full swing by the time you and Sam arrive, several well-known notorious families all coming together for one big event that benefits all. You recognize several faces that have come through Bucky's office as you walk arm in arm with Sam through the ballroom to where the tables are pressed along the corners.

You greet the familiar faces kindly as you pass through the tables where Winnie and Becca wait for you, Winnie’s hand flagging the two of you down, your name being called through the air. Bucky’s mother makes niceties for the other watchful eyes in the room, encouraging you to join them, of course you and Sam can’t pass the offer up – it wouldn’t look right in the eyes of the other families watching on, you thank her sweetly as you take your seat, Sam taking the one next to you.

You can feel his eyes on you as you talk with his mother, he's sitting a table away with his father. George Barnes had saw to it that his son’s seat was assigned at his table, ‘there is business to attend to, new heads for you to meet that have been placed at my table it’ll be good for you to build your name.’ had been his excuse. Though you know that hadn’t been the case if the brunette-haired woman sitting next to him, leaning much to closely for your liking had been any indication. George Barnes had been trying to set Bucky up with Dot since you started on as his son’s secretary. Bucky had no interest then, and he had no interest now, his eyes always looking your way, to be fair you tried to keep it to a minimum how often you glanced his way.

“You should raise your number tonight when he goes up dear.” Your eyes find Winnie’s and there's a warm smile waiting on her lips, “I know that’s what my son would want, and I know that's what you want as well.” Your eyes find her hand that's still placed warmly over yours, “I know Ma, but I don’t want to cause him any trouble – not tonight - and knowing your ex-husband there will be hell to be had if I so much as raise a hand when your son’s name is announced.” Winnie scoffs, “that man has raised hell every day since Bucky chose to build his own name, a name not tarnished by his father, George isn’t used to not getting his way, he’s used to glaring people down and getting what he wants, when in all reality it was his son that was getting him what he wanted and now that he doesn't have that, well he’s not used to losing so he brings down people to get what he wants. And you my dear are unfortunately his biggest target because he’s seen how much Bucky cares for you, how much he loves you.”

Your eyes flicker to hers drawing a laugh from woman you’ve come to love as your own over the years you’ve worked alongside Bucky. “Don’t tell me you don’t see it y/n, my boy is as smitten as ever, can hardly get him to come see me on his own anymore.”

“That’s where I come in.’ Becca laughs from beside her mom, “and even then he has to make it a whole day for us girls just to make sure he’s close by – can’t risk anything happening to my girls.” Rebecca says doing her best impersonation of her brother.

You laugh then recalling all the Sunday afternoons that turned into family outings because ‘why not? I love keeping my girls happy, and you never know Becs mom might want a new set of nails after breakfast.’ Winnie never did need a fresh set, but the Barnes women always indulged Bucky in his Sunday breakfast with his ma turned family outings if only to keep him happy, because he deserved it.

“He really does love you,” Sam chimes in from next to you, his shoulder bumping yours softly, “though to be fair he was smitten the day you scolded his father in front of his men.”

“I swear that’s the day I made an enemy of that man,” you chuckle your eyes moving towards the table where George Barnes sat. You find awaiting eyes and a kind smile from the man that holds your heart, you return his smile, “that was also the start of the rest of your life, Bucky’s offered you more than George ever could, and in turn you’ve given my son the means to be who he is now.”

Your laugh is watery as you fan at your eyes, Winnie cooing over you as she pulls you into her side pressing her lips to the side of your head. Rebecca eventually squeezes in Sam throwing his arm the best he can over the three of you. Before you arrived you might have though twice about using the black card nestled in your clutch but now, now you’d do it proudly. A table over Bucky can’t help but to worry as his family circles you, your watery laugh meeting his ears as you assure the table your fine, he has half a mind to leave the table and get to you but then they’re announcing all candidates with their secretaries to the stage.

Bucky stands watching his mother smoothe you over, he meets you halfway not taking you in his arm right away to search your face. He cups your cheek, the moment intimate eyes surely on the two of you, “are you okay?”

You smile squeezing the hand that rests on your cheek, “perfect B, come on let’s get you to the stage.”

He gives you his arm, guiding you through the tables towards the back of the stage, the announcer is talking about the purpose of tonight’s event while the heads of the houses stand in a bunch awaiting their names to be called. Bucky guides you to his friends, Steve’s the first to greet you, Natasha following as she squeezes you in a warm embrace. Then comes stark with Pepper, Odison with Jane, and lastly the newest name vision and Wanda. This was the family Bucky had created after stepping down from his father, and he had you to thank for it, Steve had been the first to rally at his side, but the others came because of you, because of the relationships you helped him build.

The girls are cleaning up their men as they straighten them out, you turn to your favorite brunette smiling as you squeeze his shoulders. “You keep smiling like that for me, and I’ll smile up on that stage for you.” You laugh, “careful B, don’t want to make it too hard for us to outbid.”

“Ma did say I was worth every penny.”

You shake your head at him, fingers running over the lapel of his suit, “you really are B.”

His lips part to speak but the announcer has begun to call names, “remember sweetheart I’m still yours at the end of the night.”

“I know B.”

You let him go moving over to the ladies before you all exit from behind the stage, each of you going back to your respective tables to watch the auction. Vision is the first to be called on stage and his bids alone start off the auction strong. You’re not surprised when Wandas card fly's up, determination set as she outbids every woman who even try's. She closes the bidding for a whopping 10,000, no one ever stood a chance.

And so, it goes with Odison going on next, Tony following both men closing 5,000 above visions, their secretaries waving at their recognition. The nerves begin to flare when Steve is called upon, your table at the ready with your numbers, Natasha meets your eyes from three tables down, smirk on her face. Steve’s bids started strong with 1,000 being called by Natasha other women chirping in throughout the room, with your table occasionally bouncing in. You begin to sweat when he passes 15,000 the numbers slowly climbing up. Sam closes the bidding with 20,000 you barely stifle your laugh at the wink Steve sends him.

Bucky’s name is called next, his presence taking over the stage your breath catching in your throat, his eyes scan the entire room but ultimately land on you. Winnie starts the bidding at 3,000 “nobody's taking my boy on a date.” It makes you laugh when Rebecca follows, tacking on another 1,000, Sam taking it up another 2,000 shortly after. Steve’s voice sounds in the room bringing his count up to 7,000. His bid continues to climb the women chirping in outbidded by the ones he loves most. Bucky’s inching on Steve when from the table right next to you Dolores raises her number, 25,000. George finds your eyes, smirk on is devious features, you look away.

The announcer begins to call out ‘going once twi -”

Your number goes up, ‘55,000’ you call, the room gasps Winnie laughing next you, squeezing you as she huddles close. The announcer doesn't think twice as he closes the bid for ‘55,000 to the highest bidder of the night, congratulations.’

Bucky’s grinning at you with love in his eyes as the announcer calls all winners to come backstage to meet and finalize a date. Aside from Sam who takes Natashas spot though she still follows the two of you, most of the secretaries are making their way behind the stage again. There is laughter in the air as Steve and Sam make dramatics of embracing each other intimately though you only have eyes for one person behind that stage.

He closes the distance between the two of you, cradling your face in warm hands, “55,000, sweetheart,” he breathes, “my cheeks were already hurting just looking at you.”

You pull him closer, “I did say you were worth every penny,” you grinned melting into his embrace as he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

He was worth every penny and more.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au

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pedroshotwifey · 5 months

Text

To the Flame Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter tags/warnings: not much yet, age gap, fluff, reader being horny (c'mon y'all it's me what do you expect), Javier being gorgeous, erotic novels honorable mention, mentions of cheating, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Chapter summary: You meet a beautiful stranger at the farmer's market. Is he what you need to get back on your feet?

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so very excited about starting this series! I have so many plans, and I can't wait to share them with you! Please keep in mind that this story will get darker the more it progresses. Thank you for reading!

***

You’ve been back in your hometown for about three months now. Three miserable and exhausting months.

You’ve been working on the family farm four days a week, ten hours a day, every week since you got back. You figure it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to have the other three days off, but no. Those days are spent at the local farmer’s market, sitting in a stiff plastic chair in the sticky Texan heat.

It doesn’t even matter that you wear a tank top and shorts to the market, you feel like you’re going to melt every damn time you have to go. The same goes for working on the farm, only you’re less fortunate in that situation. You know it’s smarter to wear jeans out there, so most of the time you do.

You’re trying to be grateful to your parents, you really are. They just make it so damn hard sometimes. Sure, they gave you a job when you needed one, but they never stop talking about how they were right. And they were, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

Your mom and dad never approved of your boyfriend, and had told you as much. You chose to ignore that fact considering they said that about every boyfriend you ever had. How the hell were you supposed to know if they were actually concerned, or if they just didn’t want you to date?

They had warned you about him. Told you that he wasn’t genuine, that you need to be careful. They told you the same about your so-called “best friend”, who was the person you found your boyfriend balls deep inside of three months ago.

But, of course, despite their protest, you had moved out with him anyway. Spent your savings on renting an apartment that he put practically nothing into. In retrospect, you really should have known; there were so many signs. You were just too damn stubborn to see them. You never would have guessed that he would go as far as to cheat on you.

Your own poor choices are what ultimately landed you back here, getting out of your dad’s old truck to unload a creaky table to set up the stand at the farmer’s market. Again. You roll your eyes and pop your earbuds in, putting on your favorite playlist.

You open the back of the truck and start to drag the plastic table out. It slides across the bed effortlessly thanks to the morning dew it’s been sitting out in. Unfortunately, that detail is another pain in the ass more than anything, because you end up getting half-soaked as you haul it into the giant tent that makes up the market.

You get it set up in an empty booth, smacking the rusted hinges to get it to stand without risk of collapse. After you lean on it to make sure it won’t fall, you return to the truck to start the endless trips of carrying produce to the stand. You usually make your younger sister help you with this part since she often tags along, but, being a senior in highschool, she couldn’t make it today.

Once you have everything put together and displayed on various shelves, you take a seat in the foldable chair you had brought with you. You expect it will be a slow day, as Mondays usually are, so you brought a book to pass the time.

You rarely sell anything on weekdays, you have no idea why your parents are so adamant about you coming all the way out here every monday since you got here. Maybe it’s just to get you out of the house—you wouldn’t put it past them.

You take one more look around the market to make sure there’s nobody approaching your stand before you open your book to the first page. It’s a newer, trashy romance. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but you like what you like.

Sometimes you swear your love life is awful or boring enough for you to actually wish to be in the place of the girls in your books. At least the fictional men seem genuine. Less likely to cheat on you with your best friend, you think bitterly.

Less likely to manipulate into moving into an expensive apartment without helping, Less likely to treat you like shit. Plus, you probably wouldn’t mind the fact that they all seem to be absolute hunks and amazing in bed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from your spiraling thoughts, your cheeks reddening once you realize you have been staring blankly at the same page for a good few minutes.

You have to steady yourself so you don’t drop your book on the dirt below you, which has you almost falling out of your chair in the process.

You glance up at the stranger as you situate yourself, which doesn’t do much to help. The man is drop-dead fucking gorgeous. He’s staring down at you, clearly amused. His full lips are tugged up into a half-smirk. You think for a second that he looks familiar, but you would for sure remember seeing a man like this.

His hair is dark, a bit long and shaggy, but in the way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. He wears sunglasses, you notice with disappointment. You don’t know why you have such a strong urge to see what’s hidden under there. You’re guessing they’re brown. He seems to carry a kind aura, it’s a fitting idea that his eyes would be warm.

Even though you sense such a kindness emanating from him, there’s an annoying nagging from the back of your head that makes you uneasy. His stare is almost imposing, the way he carries himself adding so much to the effect. Your stomach bunches up in a frustrating way that signifies both anxiety and lust. You don’t really care much to figure out which is dominant at the moment.

All you know is that you’re drawn to this man like a moth to a flame, and that after all you’ve been through, you deserve to admire him at the very least. It’s not often you come across such a good looking man. A fictional looking man.

He cocks his head after you stare for what could probably be considered a second too long. Your face must be about the shade of a tomato at this point. The weight of an object in your hand quickly reminds you of the task at hand.

This is a potential customer. You need to stop staring like a schoolgirl. Besides, he must be what… ten, fifteen years older than you? God, you can’t even tell. He looks mature, but somehow ageless at the same time. He has strong, masculine features, but a sort of boyish quality, too. If someone told you he was some kind of a god himself, you would have no trouble believing them.

“I-I’m so sorry, let me just put this down,” you say to the god, trying not to stumble over your own words after getting caught ogling.

“No problem at all, sweetheart,” he says, clearly unbothered. Fuck, his voice. It’s deep and rich, and he has some sort of accent, like he grew up speaking another language. Spanish? Probably spanish. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Down, girl.

You take a breath in through your nose, willing yourself to relax as you set your book down on the table in front of you. You resist the urge to shut your eyes out of embarrassment as he looks down at the erotic cover, and then back at you with an arched brow and an amused smile. You move quickly as you snatch the book back to flip it back-side-up.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you quietly attempt to move on from that interaction, trying to reign in some of your composure. He’s standing with one hand on his hip, which is jutted out just slightly. He licks his plush lips and stands up mostly straight before he speaks. He pulls a piece of paper out of his snug back pocket and starts to read off of it.

Your face keeps a nice flush as he reads off of his list. Your core throbs every now and again as he talks, making it a bit hard for you to concentrate, but you’re pretty sure you got everything.

You nod at him to let him know as much before you get up to collect everything. Who knows if your voice even works right now. You do your best to ignore the weight of his stare on your back as you move around.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” he says, obviously wanting to start a conversation. “You been here long?”

“No, not really,” you say, trying to level your voice as you place produce into bags. “Well, kind of. I grew up here but I moved away a few years ago. Only been back for a couple months now. I’m staying to help my parents for a bit before I can get back onto my feet,” you finish as you secure the last bag.

You look up as you place the goods on the table, this time meeting the man’s uncovered eyes. Brown and expressive, just as you imagined. You smile absentmindedly, and he mirrors your action, making your stomach twist once again. What a fucking smile.

“Well, welcome back, then,” he says. “I’m Javier. Prefer it if you would call me Javi, though.”

“Javi it is,” you say, liking the feel of his name on your tongue. You tell him your name and he nods.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Fuck this man, he has to know what he’s doing.

“Thank you,” you say, trying to control the pitch of your voice.

He watches you as you place his bags on the table in front of you, now full of his requested items. As you catch his gaze, everything around you seems to fade to black. No sounds, no movement. All you can focus on is the sudden electric current that is born between the two of you.

A nervous flutter starts in your stomach, but you just can’t bring yourself to look away, as if the attraction would be broken and gone forever if you did. The two of you hold eye contact for what could be a minute or ten before someone walks past your stand, drawing your attention back to reality.

You both let out a breath you’ve been holding, yours probably more shaky than his. You shake your head and start to add up his total after wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts. He stands back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you work.

It only takes a moment. You tell him his total and he slides his wallet out, handing you the exact cash. You both thank each other at the same time, making you giggle. He smiles wider at the sound.

“You’ve got a nice laugh, sweetheart,” he complements warmly.

“Thank you. I made it myself,” you joke. Javi chuckles to himself, almost like he’s surprised to hear you make a joke. “Sorry,” you say, laughter in your own voice. “That was kind of lame.”

“No, that was pretty clever, actually,” he says through his smile.

You let yourself get one more good look as you reciprocate the gesture, fully expecting him to part ways. He doesn’t though, instead he asks you the one question you had hoped that nobody would ask you.

“What brought you back here?”

Your smile drops slightly and you consider lying to him, telling him that your parents wanted your help and that’s all. You know you can’t, though. There’s no point in trying to hide the truth. Nothing stays hidden in this small town.

So you don’t. You sum up every stupid, unfair thing that made you return home. There’s a flash of sympathy in his gaze that makes you want to shut up, but some sick part of you craves that sympathy at the same time.

It only takes you a couple minutes to have everything out, but he stays quiet and patient the entire time. Never interrupting you once and nodding along at all the right parts to let you know he’s listening.

You haven’t felt this seen in a long time, It feels good. It makes you want to wrap yourself up in this total stranger’s arms and beg him to hold you. Fuck, now you’re picturing that. You need to not picture that. Luckily you don’t have much of a chance to, because he’s responding to you only a few seconds after you finish.

“Well, that’s a damn shame. Fuckin’ boys don’t even know how to treat a sweet girl anymore.” Javi says, making you blush once again.

The attention he gives you feels the same as jumping into a cool pool after being in the sun all day. It’s unbelievably refreshing to hear something like that instead of the usual scolding and ‘I told you so’s.

He seems to put thought into what comes out of his mouth, and it genuinely makes you feel like he cares. Like he wants to make sure you hear what you deserve to hear.

“What makes you so sure I’m sweet?” you ask playfully, trying to change the topic to ignore the craving for more kind words. Might as well flirt a little while you’re at it, you figure. What can it hurt?

“Just a hunch,” he says, his tone the same as yours as his smile crinkled eyes bore into yours. You nod a little, your adoring smile never wavering.

You both notice the small line of people beginning to form behind Javi at the same time. He almost looks disappointed at the sight, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“Just one second, honey,” he says, digging the scrap of paper from before out of his pocket again. Once he has that laid against the table in front of him, he supplies a pen from the front pocket of his shirt. He uses it to scribble something down onto the paper.

You crane your neck slightly to try to catch a peak, but you can’t tell with how fast he’s writing. When he’s done, he folds it once, slides it your way, and gives a singular nod.

“See you around, sweetheart,” he says as he starts to leave.

“Yeah. See you,” you mumble under your breath as you watch him stride away, bags of produce in hand.

A woman walks up to the table, and you quickly turn to her.

“So sorry about that. How can I help you?” you ask quickly, eyeing the paper Javi left behind.

It only takes you a little while to get everyone who was in line checked out, but it feels like it could have been hours. As soon as the last customer starts to walk away, your hands are on the note, shakily unfolding it to reveal Javi’s (suitably) scratchy handwriting.

You see what you can only assume to be his phone number, and above it, there’s a note.

“I would love to see you again, sweet girl. Give me a call?”

Your heart flutters as you bite your lip and read the note over again. There’s no way you’re not taking up that offer.

***

Thank you so much for reading!! I would absolutely love any kind of feedback so I know where everyone's at on this!! I have a tag list open for this series if anybody would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @survivingandenduring @kewwrites (pls lmk if these tags worked!)

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #fluff #dark javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #narcos #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #dark pedro pascal

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lovelyhan · 1 year

Text

— inflection point ⟢

pairing: jeonghan x reader x seungcheol

summary: after reconciling with your first love, all seems well in your relationship thus far. but when you notice jeonghan distancing himself from you and seungcheol, you're determined to get to the bottom of it.

word count: 7.6k words

tags: established relationship, angst, smut

warnings: graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

tags: @miko1ly - @misssugarlips - @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan - @amixoferrthang - @sysymei (sorry if i missed anyone!)

notes: give it up for part three! thank you so much for showing this series so much love! i hope you like how it all ends hehe :3c

additional notes: the smut is much filthier than usual, so i'm going to put the tags accordingly under the cut.

smut tags: morning sex, cockwarming, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, etc.), spitroasting, manhandling, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare

part one - part two - part three | masterlist

“Me and Hannie?”

From where he’s seated across from you in this hole-in-the-wall restaurant that you dragged him into, Seungcheol nods before sticking a french fry into his mouth. “You never really told me how it all started.”

You frown. “I did.”

“Yeah, but ‘it was just your everyday office romance’ doesn’t really give me a lot to work with here, princess.”

You’re about to tell him to quit being a smartass when someone—who definitely isn’t the waitress that was mooning over your boyfriend when she took your orders—comes up to your table with a shy smile. It’s a boy that’s probably fresh out of high school, stammering with his words as he hands Seungcheol a pen and napkin. He immediately gets the gist.

“I keep forgetting that you’re a literal celebrity now,” you chuckle, sipping on your milkshake with a teasing look as the kid happily walks away with his idol’s autograph. “Star football player, Choi Seungcheol, spotted in a local diner with some girl.”

“Hey, you’re not just some girl.” He pouts. “You’re the love of my life.”

Past that strong personality of his, you tend to forget that Seungcheol is really just a big baby inside a buff man’s body. “So is Jeonghan, silly.”

“Okay, one of the loves of my life, then,” he grumbles. “Anyway, don’t think I already let you off the hook. Are you going to tell me how exactly you and Han wound up together or am I going to have to invite Soonyoung and Jihoon to dinner just to procure the details?”

That earns him a scowl. “Do you seriously think my best friends are just going to betray me like that?”

Seungcheol shrugs. “You’re the one who said that Soonyoung will never pass up on the opportunity to gossip, and how Jihoon keeps a cool head about stuff at first, only to play devil’s advocate the longer the conversation progresses.”

Damn it. You hate how this guy is so attuned to every single thing in your life—your best friends’ flaws and weaknesses included.

“Fine, fine,” you sigh before munching on the last bite of your burger. “Do you remember that time a few months ago when you had this really bad argument with Jeonghan in the office?”

Seungcheol raises his eyebrow. “You saw that?”

“No, Joshua just shared some of the details over lunch the day after,” you explain. “If I actually bore witness to it firsthand and realized you’re the one who’s been giving my hotter-than-hell boss more problems than he already has, I would’ve castrated you on the spot.”

He smirks. “Right. You’ve been crushing on him for…how many years?”

You roll your eyes at his attempt at gloating. “Since the day I first laid my eyes on him. Now focus, Cheol. Do you remember that day?”

“Of course I remember.”

“Then, I’ll have you know that right after Joshua and I had lunch, Jeonghan asked me to come up to his office to talk about something important.”

Seungcheol nods. “Okay.”

“I thought it was about the report I gave him earlier that day, but…” You find your voice trailing off at the memory of Jeonghan—calm, sophisticated Yoon Jeonghan—forgoing his usual façade of level-headedness for something more…vulnerable.

“He asked me if loving each other was enough to sustain a relationship. If it’s still worth continuing even if it always seems like something’s still missing no matter how much either of the people involved compromised.”

You stare at Seungcheol to gauge his reaction, but he’s simply sitting there, eating the rest of his food in contemplative silence with an unreadable look.

Hesitantly, you continue, “I didn’t…know who it was that made him ask all those questions, but even if I did, my answer would’ve been the same.”

“That is?”

You’re a little startled by the sudden switch-up in his expressions. One moment he’s indecipherable, and now he’s leaning forward on the table, as if wholly expectant of your response. You let out a quiet laugh, mirroring his actions before pressing a soft kiss on his nose. This considerably surprises Seungcheol, but he doesn’t flinch away regardless.

“If something’s missing, why don’t the two of you try looking for it?” you murmur. “Literally the only piece of advice I gave him, and it’s vague as hell. That came back to bite me in the ass a few weeks later, though, because—”

“He suddenly asked you to be our girlfriend?” Seungcheol supplies, reaching for your hand on the table before kissing the top of your hand with a dimpled smile. “Kind of a good call if you ask me. Although, now that you made me realize it…”

“Han totally did that because he can’t put up with me anymore, can he?”

You snort out loud at his wild assumption. This guy, seriously…

“Quit being an idiot, Cheol. You think Hannie is that one-dimensional? That he thinks of you as some sort of kid that he has trouble dealing with alone?”

“You’ll be surprised at how many times I’ve had to sleep on the couch because of my…childish tendencies.”

You sigh. Can’t exactly argue with him on that.

“Why’d you ask in the first place anyway?” you wonder. “This never really came up before.”

Seungcheol moves to rest his back against his seat, opening his mouth as if to answer—only to be interrupted by the sound of both of your phones chiming with text notifications. You’re the first to fish yours out, unlocking it to see that Jeonghan sent a message to your little groupchat with Seungcheol.

Hannie [8:22 P.M.]: hi, sorry. i might not be able to make it :(

Hannie [8:22 P.M.]: meeting’s running late, i'll just grab dinner with shua

Me [8:23 P.M.]: it’s alright. take care on the way back home <3 ily

Hannie [8:25 P.M.]: i love you, too, baby

Your gaze flickers over to Seungcheol when you realize he hasn’t responded to Jeonghan’s update despite the read receipts. The fact that he probably won’t solidifies itself when he eventually turns his phone, screen-down on the table before flashing you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You want a refill on that milkshake?”

...

About two weeks after that odd dinner date with Seungcheol, you’re waiting eagerly for Jeonghan to come home from work as you made a mess in their kitchen.

While you normally went home together with your boss-turned-boyfriend, he’s once again forced to stay behind since the business deal he’s been stressing about for a better part of the year is finally at its final stages today. Just a few more adjustments to the contract he’s setting up, and he’s home free.

On the drive to the grocery store, he informed you and Seungcheol that the agreements have finally been formalized on paper, and that he can finally get the break he deserves. Both of you were both proud of and happy for him, of course. And to commemorate that, you decided to rope Seungcheol into cooking dinner for Jeonghan from scratch.

Before you came into the picture, he and Jeonghan mostly relied on food delivery apps, much to your horror. Seungcheol is a pretty decent cook, but the man is lazier than a sloth when it comes to making food at home. Jeonghan, on the other hand, cannot be left alone in the kitchen without there being any sort of fire hazard.

You genuinely wonder how they survived all this time.

“And done,” you sigh, taking off your oven mitts once you’ve taken the lasagna out of the oven. “How’s the chicken going, Cheol? Haven’t burned it, have you?”

“I can do a decent job if I want to, you know,” he grumbles as he clicks his tongs together as if to prove a point. “See? It’s golden brown, just how Han likes it.”

You giggle before prancing behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist before pressing your cheek into his back. “That’s why I’m sure he is going to be really happy once he gets home.”

Once Seungcheol is done frying enough chicken strips as a side dish for the pasta recipe you looked up on a whim, you set the table in anticipation of Jeonghan’s arrival. Fancy tableware, a bottle of champagne, and—

By some stroke of luck, the man of the hour arrives while you’re in the middle of all the preparations—making you squeak with surprise before practically tackling him at the entrance.

“Congratulations, Hannie,” you coo, trapping him in a tight embrace before he can even set down his suitcase. “Joshua already spilled the details in the team groupchat. Don’t even try to act all humble.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he laughs, patting your head affectionately. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Welcome back.”

The two of you snap your heads in the direction of Seungcheol’s voice, where he emerges from the kitchen with two glasses of champagne in his hands. A wide smile roots itself onto your face when he hands the two of you one each.

“Thank you, Cheol,” Jeonghan sighs with a small smile before taking a small sip.

“Come on,” you say, tugging his arm with your free hand. “We prepared a really nice surprise for you!”

But to your confusion, Jeonghan resists your grip where he would normally relent, feet rooted in place as he flashes you an apologetic smile. You flash him a puzzled look.

“Sorry, love, I’m a bit…tired today,” he reasons. “You and Cheol made dinner, didn’t you? Thank you for going out of your way, but I should really head to bed before this migraine kills me.”

“But, won’t you feel better if you get some food in you?” You pout, glancing at Seungcheol for back-up.

“I already ate on the way here, don’t worry,” Jeonghan reassures, leaning to kiss your forehead before handing the champagne glass back to Seungcheol. “That one’s aged pretty well. But I liked the bottle Mingyu gave us for our anniversary last year better.”

With that, Jeonghan has led himself to the bedroom, leaving you and Seungcheol standing there in blatant disbelief.

You turn to your remaining company in a snap. “Is everything alright with him?”

Seungcheol downs the rest of the champagne in one swig before letting out a deep sigh. “My guess is as good as yours.”

You and Seungcheol ruminate in the silence as the gears in your brain start to turn. Did any of you do something that he didn’t like? What could possibly catalyze Jeonghan’s sudden evasiveness?

“...Do you think he knows? About us?”

“God, no.” Seungcheol shakes his head. “I thought it was our silent agreement to not let him know? And that was back when we quote-unquote hated each other.”

You chew the inside of your cheek from sheer nervousness, eyeing the feast for three that’s laid out on the dining table.

“What if he already found out? What if he’s giving us the cold shoulder because we didn’t tell him up front?” you ask, hands going clammy with nervousness.

“No. Stop it. You know Jeonghan isn’t like that,” Seungcheol says with a kind of dismissiveness that discourages you from pressing the matter further. He even makes a beeline for your awaiting dinner just to get you to drop the topic altogether.

“Let’s eat. Don’t want the food we worked so hard for going cold, now do we?”

You cast one last glance at the hall in which Jeonghan disappeared into before letting out a withering sigh.

Guess you’ll just leave him some leftover portions in the fridge.

…

When the weekend comes, so does your monthly get-together with Soonyoung and Jihoon, and like your last visit, all you’re bringing to the table is your stupid boyfriend problems. You’re honestly starting to feel bad for subjecting them to such a tiresome routine, but you know they’re more than happy to help.

“What do you mean you haven’t told Jeonghan?” Soonyoung exclaims with his hands on your shoulders, as if he’s doing everything in his power just to keep himself from throttling you. “I thought we were going to celebrate because you’ve made up with Cheol! Why are we suddenly hearing about a brand new problem?!”

“Uh…sorry?”

Jihoon sighs, flipping through a fashion magazine that’s normally just gathering dust under their coffee table. “Pray tell, why did you guys think it was a good idea to keep the fact that you’re exes from the person who brought you together again?”

You sigh, sinking into the cushions of their sofa the moment Soonyoung lets go of you. “Because we didn’t want to break Hannie’s heart with the news that we actually hate each other?”

“So you chose to break his heart later by keeping up such a stupid charade?” Soonyoung scoffs. “You’re better than this! I know you are! What happened?”

“Seungcheol happened,” Jihoon replies with a shake of his head. “You know how love makes people do crazy things? Yeah.”

“Hey, for the record, I did that for Jeonghan—”

“What? Lie to him?”

“Soonie!”

Your older best friend presses his lips together into a thin line, and you nearly sink to your knees just to beg for his forgiveness. But you know he’s just acting like this because he’s disappointed in you. Honestly, you are, too.

“Okay, there’s nothing we can really do about it now,” Jihoon sighs. “But you’re bringing this up because you think Jeonghan knows, right? Even if you and Seungcheol haven’t breathed a word about it?”

Soonyoung makes a noise in complaint. “But how can Jeonghan not know? Doesn’t everyone share their dating history to their current partner? Are you sure Seungcheol hasn’t said anything? And…isn’t Jeonghan like an evil person that’s always one step ahead of his opponents?”

Both you and Jihoon look at him like he’s just grown a second head.

“What? That’s how she described him when she lost the mafia game during a Christmas party back then.”

“At this point, I don’t really think it matters if he knows or not,” Jihoon interjects before turning to you with a stern look. “You’ve been with him and Seungcheol for almost three months now. Don’t you think it’s about time both of you came clean about the past anyway?”

Soonyoung nods. “Yeah! What he said!”

You puff out your cheeks, once again humbled by your friends’ observations. It’s funny how you claim to be a grown woman who’s learned from her past mistakes, but the fact that you keep making even more kind of revokes that.

Still, you guess it isn’t too late to tell the truth.

“Hey! Where are you going?” you hear Soonyoung call out from the living room as you bolt to the entrance of their apartment—hastily putting your shoes back on.

“To get the love of my life to forgive me,” you say, before contemplatively adding, “one of the loves of my life.”

Then, you’re off, telling yourself to just treat them to dinner once you’ve got your boyfriend problems sorted out.

…

You find it a bit silly, how you nearly forgot how to commute to your boyfriends’ house, given the amount of times the Seungcheol has driven you on the way instead. But you make do anyway, since neither of them are expecting the visit—having told them you’d be spending the weekend at Soonyoung and Jihoon’s.

There’s no answer when you ring the doorbell, but Seungcheol’s car is parked in the garage right next to Jeonghan’s, so you’re certain that they’re home. You bounce on the balls of your feet for a few moments before ringing it again, anticipation buzzing through your veins.

But when no one comes to open the door for you after five minutes, you decide to rummage through your bag for the spare key they gave you back then—hastily twisting it in the keyhole before letting yourself in.

The lights in the living room are off, and it’s the same case for the dining room. You glance around at the shoe rack near the entrance to confirm whether or not Seungcheol went out for a run. However, when your ears catch the sound of muted conversation at the end of the hall, you suspect that they’re inside the bedroom.

With each step closer, you get a better idea of what they must be talking about. From the earnest tone in Seungcheol’s voice, you figure that it must be serious.

Could he have beaten you to telling Jeonghan the truth? God, couldn’t he have at least invited you over if he did? You have to take responsibility, too!

But as you raise your fist to knock on the door, you immediately still at the sound of someone sniffling.

You don’t even bother announcing your presence anymore, swinging the door open with eyes alert. On the mattress, you see Seungcheol and Jeonghan sitting at the edge—the latter with his face buried in the former’s chest. Seungcheol was in the middle of placating him by smoothing a hand across his back, but he immediately snaps his gaze to the door as you barge in.

“Hannie?” you whisper.

Jeonghan immediately springs away from Seungcheol’s grasp—eyes blotchy with tears. His lips part with surprise when he recognizes you and makes quick work of his face by hiding it from view.

“Sweetheart, what’re you doing here?” he asks, trying (in vain) to mask the nasal tone of his voice. “Did Soonyoung kick you out or something?”

You don’t answer him right away, instead rushing to his side to give him a hug of your own. Jeonghan stiffens beneath your touch—not having expected you to give it with little context behind your actions. But you’re actually doing it to catch Seungcheol’s gaze to mouth, what the hell is going on?

Jeonghan is crying. Jeonghan never cries.

Ever since the night Jeonghan rejected your little dinner surprise, it’s like both you and Seungcheol were walking on eggshells around him. Something was obviously wrong, but Jeonghan would either brush it off or find some excuse to not talk about it.

Seungcheol got the brunt of it, living under the same roof and all. It gave rise to many sleepless nights and a few blunders here and there whenever he’s training. You even offered for him to crash at your apartment if he wants to, but he outright refused—saying that the last thing he wants to do is leave Jeonghan alone when he’s like…this.

It got so bad that you even asked Joshua if he knew anything, but Jeonghan’s secretary merely told you that he hasn’t been acting all that different at work.

Now, though…

Seungcheol looks considerably less agitated compared to how he was over the last two weeks. There’s a gentle look in his eyes that tells you, it’s alright, it’s going to be okay.

“He knows,” Seungcheol starts with a sheepish smile. “He’s known all this time.”

It takes you a while to digest the newfound information, letting go of Jeonghan in favor of looking into his tear-stricken eyes. Your lover manages a tight-lipped smile, an apology written in his eyes before he can even say a word.

“But…how?”

Jeonghan swallows thickly, forcing himself to breathe. “Before you get any ideas, I was completely in the dark when I introduced the both of you. I just had this…feeling. That the two of you would get along swimmingly.”

You breathe in deeply through your nose, exhaling through parted lips. Before Jeonghan can continue, you take your seat right beside him.

“So…when did you figure it out?”

“Neither of you were being discreet about the fake affection, so I figured that you must have known each other from somewhere,” he says, the ghost of a smile hovering over his lips. “It just so happens that I remembered a story you told me back then—about the ex who straight up left after taking your first time—”

Seungcheol winces in the corner of your eye. You don’t even remember telling Jeonghan about your ‘legendary shitty ex’ as Jihoon permanently branded Seungcheol. But you’re notorious for making a reputation for yourself in those annual company Christmas parties once the alcohol sets in, so…

“—and how the details coincide a bit too well with how Seungcheol described his first relationship ended.” Jeonghan pauses, fidgeting with his fingers on his lap. “I only had a hunch back then, so I made Joshua look into your records, and…that’s when I found out you graduated from the same high school as Cheol.”

Isn’t Jeonghan like an evil person that’s always one step ahead of his opponents? Soonyoung’s voice echoes in your mind.

‘One step ahead of his opponents’, sure, but ‘an evil person’...?

From the years you’ve spent working (and pining for) your boss, you know that Jeonghan has an incurable habit of being a tease. And sure, you’ve described him as such whenever he’s out to drive you insane on purpose, but…

Right now, you know Jeonghan’s intentions are anything but malicious.

“Why didn’t you call us out on our bullshit then?” you mumble, more because you’re still afraid to take responsibility for your own silence than anything else. So much for making things right. “If you knew all along then why’d we all have to play house like nothing’s wrong?”

“Because I wanted the both of you to sort out your issues between yourselves first,” Jeonghan says, and the smile on his face turns sad. “And you did. I’m so proud that you did. Both of you won’t even be able to understand how happy I was to see you two curled up together in bed when I got home from Busan.”

The confused look on your face doesn’t let up. “But you still didn’t…”

For a moment, Jeonghan looks as if he’s about to burst into tears again, but Seungcheol places a hand on his waist. A silent reassurance.

“I didn’t want to rush you,” he says, despite the fact that this is something you and Seungcheol should’ve told him right from the start. “I wanted to give the two of you the time and space to get used to being together again. Really being together. But…”

On a whim, you take Jeonghan’s delicate hands in yours. You’re not even sure if it makes things any easier for him, but when you see how his tense shoulders relax at your touch, you figure this is alright.

“Seeing the chemistry you both had despite all the years that passed, all the time you missed… I think I got a little over my head every time I saw it.” Jeonghan laughs mirthlessly. “You told me back then that Seungcheol and I might just be missing something, which was why things were so rocky between us. I thought that something was you, but then I gave it a little more thought and…

“Maybe both of you were simply missing each other, and that I shouldn’t have been part of the picture to begin with.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, your grip tightens around his hands, staring at him with slack-jawed silence. “Jeonghan, are you out of your goddamn mind?”

He shakes his head, wiping the rest of the tears from his eyes. “Seungcheol asked the same thing before you arrived. I might just be, if you’re both reacting that way.”

“Is that the reason you were so distant these past few weeks?” you ask, voice betraying the thick coil of emotion clinging to your throat. “Don’t tell me you were planning to break up with us because of it—”

“No,” Jeonghan says sharply, eyes widening when he sees you on the verge of tears as well. “God, no. This is just me falling prey to my own insecurities, sweetheart. I would— I would never leave both of you because of something that can be solved by holding a proper conversation.”

Okay. You forgot for a moment that Jeonghan isn’t an emotionally volatile high schooler that would abandon you at a drop of a hat at the slightest inconvenience. Neither is Seungcheol, and that’s why you’re all sitting down to talk about all of this now.

Just like you should have a long time ago.

“Han, look at me,” Seungcheol pleads, and Jeonghan is quick to relent—puffy eyes meeting his earnest gaze. “Don’t you ever think that we’re better off without you. After all, the reason that brought us back together in the first place isn’t just you, but the fact that we both love you. So fucking much.”

You couldn’t have said it better yourself, actually.

Seungcheol is your first love, that much is true, and even if the two of you encountered several difficulties when it came to making amends, you both conquered the ghosts of the past side by side. But that doesn’t make you love Jeonghan any less.

You’ve been pining for the man for God knows how long, and now that he’s become such an integral part of your life—having learned how to love him past the superficial infatuation—you can’t even imagine living without him.

It’s never just you and Seungcheol. Or you and Jeonghan. Or Jeonghan and Seungcheol, for the matter.

The best of things come in threes—as unconventional as it is, that’s how your life has always been.

A few moments later, you manage a warm smile, lifting Jeonghan’s hands to your lips so you could plant kisses on his knuckles. “Mhmm. You think someone as hard-headed as Seungcheol would stick around someone he isn’t crazy about?”

Jeonghan breathes through a chuckle. “You both might kill me for this, but didn’t Cheol do the exact opposite back when you two were still—”

“Han.”

“Hannie.”

More than offensive remarks aside, the fact that Jeonghan is cracking that no-good smile of his again tells you that the storm has more or less passed.

And you couldn’t ask for anything more.

“We’re still sorry for keeping our past a secret,” you say once three of you are lounging back on the cloud couch again—buried beneath Jeonghan’s favorite blanket as you all watch a kid’s movie that he insisted on watching. “Right, Cheol?”

“More than sorry,” he sighs before pressing his lips on the crown of Jeonghan’s head. “We’ll do anything to make up for it.”

“Hm? Anything?”

Part of you knows that giving Jeonghan that kind of power is a very dangerous thing. God knows what kind of schemes are stewing in this man’s head. But for once, you let him have a free pass for all the mischief he can come up with.

“Then…” he starts before turning to you, eyes alight with adoration.

“I want you to move in with us. For real.”

The words sink in a few moments too late, and you can only dole out a dazed, “What?” before Seungcheol crushes both you and Jeonghan into a life-threatening hug.

“Please say yes,” he whispers, burying his face between yours and Jeonghan’s shoulders. “Please.”

You can feel the rumble of Jeonghan’s laughter reverberating right next to you, and you can only sigh in defeat.

How could you ever say no to them?

…

There are lots of advantages to living with your two boyfriends after several back-and-forths between their house and your apartment for the past three months.

First is that you’re never alone. At work, it’s a given that you’ll be more or less in Jeonghan’s company, but when you spend weekends at your apartment, it gets a little lonely, especially when your boyfriends and best friends are busy during its entirety.

Now Seungcheol and Jeonghan always make sure you have company whenever one of them has prior commitments to attend to. No matter how much you say that you really don’t mind the solitude, they were having none of it.

Second, it’s a lot easier to get things done around the house. You’ve gotten so used to doing all your chores by yourself, that you’re still surprised to walk back into the kitchen—intent on cleaning up after the pots and pans you used to whip up dinner—only to see them squeaky clean and already drying with the dishes.

It’s the same thing with laundry, which is a chore that Seungcheol has a weird affinity for getting done whenever he has the time. Jeonghan has also adopted a habit of watering your plants before you can even remember to do so—making the idea of living with them all the more endearing, with how considerate they are of your lifestyle.

But you’re pretty sure that the best advantage is…

“Angel, you have to be quiet if you don’t want Cheol to wake up.”

Easier said than done, really. You don’t usually start your mornings with Jeonghan’s cock stuffed in your aching pussy while Seungcheol snored softly just a few inches away—squirming in your lover’s grasp as he gloats about how needy you’re being. But ever since you’ve moved into your boyfriends’ house, each day comes with a different surprise.

“Hannie,” you whimper, shifting your thighs on his lap just a little to grant yourself a sliver of friction. “We’re going to be late.”

Jeonghan chuckles none-too-mischievously in your ear, lips latching onto the sweet spot just below the cut of your jaw. You instantly mewl in response—walls clenching around his girth.

“Then I’ll just have to bribe Shua into overlooking today’s time cards,” he whispers, making a show of teasing you by shallowly thrusting his hips against yours. “Besides, don’t you prefer warming my cock on a cold morning, love? Much better than our usual nine-to-five monotone, don’t you think?”

“I’d prefer,” you start with a hiss, “if you just fucked me properly somewhere else instead of sneaking around our sleeping boyfriend!”

Jeonghan hums, trailing those sinful lips down your neck. “Or I can fuck you here and wait for Cheol to wake up and see the show we’re putting on.”

The picture he’s putting inside your head has a rush of heat searing through your core—Seungcheol still blinking out the haze of sleep from his eyes while Jeonghan pounds you into the mattress, calling you all those filthy names that have your toes curling. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve begged for him to get on with it right away.

But it just so happens that Seungcheol is a sore loser that hates missing out on the fun stuff you do with Jeonghan in bed. If you woke him up and incurred his wrath now, you might not be able to walk out of this bedroom, much less go to work.

Jeonghan knows that goddamn well.

“Aww, our baby’s whining,” he coos, a hand sneaking under your sleep shirt as he squeezes one of your breasts. “Can’t make up your mind? You want to get wrecked on my cock first thing in the morning, but you also don’t want Cheol to hard dom you right before work? What a dilemma! I wonder how I can help you.”

“Yoon Jeonghan, you’re a fucking menace.”

Jeonghan giggles before turning your head so he can kiss your frowning lips. “What a coincidence, love. You’re fucking this menace right now.”

With your sanity on the verge of snapping, you force yourself to turn around to face him—trying your best to ignore how his cock slides along with your movements. Jeonghan’s eyes widen just a tad before you’re lacing your fingers around his nape, bringing him in for a kiss.

“Hannie, don’t you feel sorry for me?” you mouth the words against his lips, rolling your hips to finally get the friction you’ve been craving since you woke up to Jeonghan grinding his morning wood into your ass. “I’ve been so good for you, and you still don’t want to give me what I want?”

Jeonghan groans, lithe fingers immediately migrating to your hips as he guides your movements—that teasing front of his starting to crumble. After all, he’s still just a man, and you have something that Seungcheol likes to call a magic pussy.

“Don’t you want to stuff me full of cum?” you whisper in his ear, purposely clenching down on his cock until you feel him throb inside you. “Fuck me so full, I’ll be dripping in the office?”

“Baby, you know the breeding kink is more of Cheol’s thing,” he laughs hoarsely before swinging his legs over to the side of the bed.

“But I kind of get why he likes it so much now.”

You let out a little noise of surprise when Jeonghan gets up—dick very much still inside you—as he supports your weight with his hands on your ass. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his narrow waist, and Jeonghan presses a kiss on the tip of your nose, smiling.

He crosses the threshold of the room with you in his arms, setting you down on the vanity table that Seungcheol purchased for you a few days before you moved in with them. The thought of Jeonghan taking you here, of all places, makes your head spin.

“Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt,” he moans before pulling his hips back—only to snap forwards with a force that has you clinging onto him like a lifeline. “You wouldn’t be able to fit me and Cheol at the same time, would you?”

Jeonghan’s arms wrap themselves securely around your waist, eyes trained on the blissed out look on your face. He chuckles as your head lolls to the side, dazed with the feeling of his cock making a mess of you with every thrust.

In your depraved trance, you see Seungcheol fast asleep on his side of the bed—completely oblivious to what his two lovers are up to—and the fact of the matter only serves to arouse you further.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

When Jeonghan completely stills inside you, it takes every bit of dignity you have left just to keep yourself from whining. Not that you weren’t already doing that, but you don’t want to give Jeonghan more of an ego boost than you already have.

“I can,” you whimper. “I can fit both of you inside me. Please Hannie, just—”

Jeonghan doesn’t have to be told twice. Intent on rewarding such obedient behavior, he gathers your hair with his free hand before yanking on it, hard. The pain that prickles your scalp only serves to heighten the pleasure he’s giving you, and when you feel his teeth scrape the skin of your neck, you just know it’ll take you a while to get your makeup in place.

“Good, good girl,” Jeonghan praises once he’s satisfied with the marks he’s left on your skin—hickeys blooming like flowers in the spring. “Are you close, sweet thing? You need help getting there?”

You nod a little too fast, tears catching in the corners of your eyes once you start to feel your orgasm sizzling underneath your skin. Fortunately for you, Jeonghan is done with all the teasing—the hand that was just in your hair migrating between your slotted bodies until he finds your clit. You muffle the lewd noises spilling from your lips by biting down on his shoulder, causing Jeonghan to groan in the sexiest way possible.

“Squeezing me so goddamn well,” he sighs, raking his fingers through his long hair before forcing you to look back at your reflection in the mirror. Your thighs are spread wide for him, eyes red with tears as the vanity jostles with every thrust. “Go on, sweetheart, let yourself go for me. Need to feel you cum on my cock.”

“Can’t believe you’re starting without me. Again.”

Jeonghan’s movements falter for a millisecond at the sound of Seungcheol’s sexy but sulky morning voice, but he simply breathes out an airy laugh before continuing to wreck you. With his back turned to Seungcheol, who’s already taking his own cock out of his boxers, Jeonghan can’t see the predatory gleam in those sleepy eyes.

“Han, don’t you two have work today?” Seungcheol asks as he wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s waist—grinding his half-hard length into his ass. “Why does it look like you’re fucking her until she can’t walk?”

“That’s the plan, babe,” Jeonghan laughs.

“Mean. How would you feel if you got a taste of your own medicine, and I did the same to you?”

You let out a sharp cry when Jeonghan manages to graze your g-spot with the head of his cock, fingers tightening around the edge of the vanity as your two lovers flirted right in front of you. Jeonghan chuckles at your adorable reaction before tilting his head to give Seungcheol a little kiss.

“You already had my ass last night, Cheol. I think you’re in the mood for a different kind of hole this morning.”

The buildup of your orgasm rapidly fades when you feel Jeonghan’s cock slip out of you. You’re on the verge of tears when you whisper a quick, “No, no, no…” But Seungcheol is quick to pacify you when he gathers you into his strong arms—tossing you back onto the bed. He maneuvers you so your face is pressed against the cool sheets and your ass is in the air.

Having switched positions too quickly, you’re disoriented for a couple of seconds before you realize that Jeonghan is right in front of you again—a tight fist wrapped around his cock as if he’s waiting for something.

But even if your brain is yet to comprehend what it is that he wants, your body responds accordingly, struggling a little as you propped yourself on your elbows before taking his dick into the heat of your mouth.

“Our baby is so cock-drunk, isn’t she?” Seungcheol chuckles from behind you, where you can feel him smooth down those rough hands of his against the swell of your ass—grinding his cock into the mess Jeonghan made between your legs. “Can’t get off on just one anymore. Has to take both of us to feel satisfied.”

“This one said she can take us both in that tight pussy of hers, Cheol,” Jeonghan laughs along with him, gathering your hair in his hands to keep the strands from falling into your face. “You think we should take her up on that?”

“Mmm… We can. When you’re not running late for work, that is.”

Fuck work, honestly. If Jeonghan had the choice to become a baser creature who lived off sex alone or an established figure in a multimillion dollar company, he would’ve chosen the former in every single lifetime.

The moan that Seungcheol rips out of your throat once he bottoms out inside you is immaculate. Each thrust sends you forward—nearly pressing your nose into Jeonghan’s pubic bone with each bob of your head. Seungcheol has half the mind to stop for a moment to check if you’re alright, but the fact that his aggression just spurred you on to swallow even more of Jeonghan’s cock tells him that he’s in the clear.

Jeonghan hisses when he feels you massaging his cock with the muscles of your throat, holding back that gag reflex like a fucking champ. It’s a miracle how you eased yourself into deepthroating him while Seungcheol destroys your cunt, but he’s not about to complain.

Being stuffed with your lovers’ cocks on both ends, your mind is simply on autopilot—just sitting there and taking everything they’re willing to give you like a good little girl.

Seungcheol growls upon recognizing how willing and pliant you are, fingers digging into your hips until the skin glows red from his grip.

“C-Cheol—” You gasp, breaking away from Jeonghan’s dick for a breather. “So close. Please.”

“Who said you could stop sucking off Han, baby?” he whispers dangerously. “You’re not allowed to cum until you’ve swallowed everything Jeonghan gives you. Understood?”

You don’t even have to give him a verbal response—immediately getting back to work Jeonghan into his much-awaited release. The desperation is clear in his movements, hands holding your head in place as he fucks your mouth with reckless abandon. Seungcheol smirks as he presses down on your lower back, forcing your spine into an arch that he’s damn sure would make him hit angles he normally wouldn’t be able to.

And he’s right. Your moans are muffled by Jeonghan’s cock, but from the way your body thrashes beneath him, Seungcheol has definitely found that sweet spot inside you.

“Will you let me cum down your throat, sweetheart?” Jeonghan asks hoarsely, yet everyone in the room knows the question is rhetorical. “Don’t waste a single drop, okay?”

Then your mouth is filled with the warm liquid spurting from your lover’s cock, still thrusting into the cavern of your mouth as he rides out his orgasm. Seungcheol fucking adores seeing the glazed look in your eyes as you take every drop Jeonghan dumps into your throat, spurring him on to chase his own orgasm so he can do the same with your greedy little pussy.

It’s a good thing he knows exactly how to make you fall apart.

Once you’ve swallowed Jeonghan’s load, Seungcheol doesn’t even give you a second to breathe—reaching out to rub two fingers around your overstimulated clit. You cry out in sheer pleasure, the sound shooting straight to his cock, and that’s when he knows he’ll burst any second now.

“Cum on my cock, princess,” Seungcheol leans over your back to growl into your ear. “Let me feel you milk me fucking dry.”

Your orgasm crests before you can even feel it build up to the pinnacle, blindsiding you with pleasure so severe, you barely feel it when Seungcheol stills inside you—his emission rushing in to cream your pussy until drips out of your hole from how much he came.

It fills you with a sense of extreme bliss that has you collapsing back onto the mattress the moment Seungcheol surrenders the iron grip on your waist.

“Shit. I think we broke her.”

You don’t know how much time has passed when you finally come to your senses again, but you’re bundled up beneath the comforter—dressed in fresh clothes, and feeling just a little sore. Your brain is still having a bit of trouble going back online, but your first instinct is to glance at the digital clock on Jeonghan’s side of the bed, and—

“Fuck,” you mutter, throwing the covers off you when the screen reads 11:45 A.M. “Fucking late on a Monday morning…”

While scrambling out of bed to get ready is what you planned to do, your body obviously isn’t able to keep up with the first thing on your agenda—legs immediately giving out underneath you before you land on the floor with a solid thud. You wince in pain before remembering the events that transpired just a few hours earlier, and why you’re probably going to have to call in sick for the day.

“Whoa, sweetheart. Don’t get out of bed just yet.”

Your ears perk up at the sound of Jeonghan’s voice from where he’s seated in front of his laptop on the desk in the far end of the room. He has his work glasses on, but doesn’t look like he’s dressed for work itself, if the baggy shirt and sweats combo doesn’t already speak for itself.

“What are we still doing here?” you groan weakly when he rushes to your side and helps you back onto the mattress. “We have work—”

“Work that we can do in the comfort of our home,” Jeonghan laughs, kissing your forehead as he tucks you back in. “I told Joshuji to overlook this in exchange for a dinner treat tomorrow, don’t worry.”

You scowl at him, slapping his arm. “I can’t believe you bribed Joshua just so we can stay in after you both fucked me into unconsciousness!”

“Don’t say that you didn’t enjoy every second of it, babe.”

Of course Seungcheol chooses this exact time to barge into the room with a tray full of post-sex necessities in his arms. Some pain killers, your stainless water bottle, some leftovers from the fridge, and your favorite tea—

“No. I’m not letting either of you off the hook!” you huff, crossing your arms even as Seungcheol seats himself next to you to place the tray on top of the mattress. “No more intense sex before work!”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “I don’t know why you love your job so much, sweet thing. If I could work from home everyday, I seriously would.”

“Wish I could say the same for me, too,” Seungcheol sighs, and that’s when you notice that he’s already dressed in his training clothes. “By the way, they already released the game schedules for this year’s FIFA World Cup. I’ll send it to you guys later so you can book flights and accommodations in advance.”

“Hmm, does fucking in a hotel room in Qatar before Cheol plays a match count as ‘intense sex before work’?” Jeonghan asks teasingly, and you kick him in the stomach.

“We will not do that because Jihoon and Soonyoung wanted to watch Cheol’s international games with us!” you scold before reaching out for the cup of tea that (you loath to admit) Seungcheol brewed perfectly. “No sex within hearing range of my two best friends. I traumatized them with my problems enough already.”

Seungcheol hums contemplatively. “Hmm… They won’t be able to hear if we book a separate room for them—”

“Choi Seungcheol!”

The loving banter between yourself and your two lovers comes so easily these days, it’s hard to imagine that your relationship once had rocky foundations. But the time you spent cultivating the love that naturally blossomed between the three of you is worth all the adversaries you had to go through just to get to where you are now.

And for now, you’re more than content with that.

end notes: here we are at the end of it! i cannot thank you all enough for reading through my jeongcheol brain damage (bc brain rot just doesn't cut it anymore LOL). i hope you enjoyed consuming it as much as i enjoyed writing it! lemme know ur thoughts in the tags/reblogs bc i am Thirsty for validation HEHE

poly jeongcheol missing hours? you can read up more on them in the series masterlist!

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt fanfic #jeonghan #s.coups #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan #choi seungcheol #lovelyhan #🐇 500 #full length fic 📚

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

Text

*wrote this for @vecnuthy's birthday, so here you go babe! i baked you a word cake 🥰🎂* *ao3 link here*

Nobody gets cool shit on their birthday after the age of sixteen - Steve stands by this statement firmly. That year, he got his permit. And by yuppie parent default-mode, he also received his first car.

He almost, almost had a quarter-life crisis on his twenty-fifth birthday. Steve was seconds away from buying a motorcycle. Robin was very dramatic about this decision, kept threatening to order his gravestone if he followed through on an impulse purchase.

This, however, would’ve nullified his Adults Get Lame Birthday Gifts theory entirely. So Steve apologized to the salesperson, and tucked his credit card back into his wallet. Robin canceled the order on his gravestone as well, thank god.

Gifts have continued to be lackluster every year since then. And his 30th birthday is no exception to this rule.

A gift card from his parents. A pair of athletic socks from Dustin. And a t-shirt from Robin. Essentially, the starter pack of Welcome to Adulthood.

Except for one minor detail:

The shirt from Robin is exceptionally soft. Bamboo fibers or something, he wasn’t really listening to her description. Even the color is soft. Muted red, almost pink. Everything about it is soft. Airy.

Touchable.

Okay - that’s not an observation Steve makes upon receiving it. But it’s one that Eddie Munson will never let him forget.

The first time it happens is a week after Steve’s birthday. The two of them hit up a bar on the outskirts of town. A place Eddie frequents a lot, occasionally dragging Steve along as his Token 9 to 5 Friend.

“Welcome to the Dirty Thirty Club, man!” Eddie crows, already diving into Steve’s atmosphere for a hug.

“Thanks! Good to see you, Munson.” Steve chokes out, returning the massive hug with a single pat on Eddie's back.

The guy always gives the most suffocating hugs, fucking cages Steve into his arms and steals the breath of out his lungs with one squeeze. Steve has to inhale through his nose, smells the soapy steam rolling off Eddie’s skin.

Shower. Eddie just showered before meeting him here. It’s so fucking clear by the way he feels damp, smells clean.

Steve hates that he notices that. Wishes he didn’t care about Eddie’s hygiene schedule. But the scent of shower gel is addictive, breathing it in fast. Big gulps of fresh air. Lungs extending like they can capture Eddie's atmosphere and keep it there.

Okay, seriously. Steve thought his Eddie Munson Crush had been buried with the rest of his trauma back in 1993.

“Dude. This shirt is so soft, holy shit.” Eddie is rubbing his hand all over the back of Steve’s shirt, fingertips pushing into the fabric.

“Uh yeah. Sure is.”

Eddie must’ve blazed up back at his place, it’s the only reasonable explanation as to why they’re hugging for this long. Gotta be some strong shit too - strong enough to make him sound completely blissed out over a damn shirt.

He’s is humming now, both hands petting Steve’s shoulders, one on each side. Pinching the material, twisting it till it curls around his index finger.

“Gotta get me one of these bad boys.” Eddie chuckles, turns it into a playful growling sound. “Could touch this all day.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve does an awkward wiggle out of the embrace. He looks down at his shoes, cheeks growing warmer as he continues to take Eddie’s words entirely out of context.

Look, the sensible part of his brain knows that Eddie is talking about the shirt. That’s it. But the insufferably needy and more prominent part of his brain wants Eddie to be talking about himself in general.

That he could touch Steve all day long - shirt or no shirt.

Right. Steve needs a splash of water on his face. Could use a splash of water on his goddamn imagination too. Dilute the delusion for christ’s sake.

It happens again about four months later. Lucas invites the whole crew over to throw a surprise party for Max’s promotion at work.

Of course, Eddie is running late - he didn’t fail senior year twice solely from his shitty GPA. But showing up late to a surprise party? That’s a new level of risky. Not everything has to be a thrill-worthy adventure. Ugh.

“Max should be getting off work right about now.” Lucas explains, peering around the living room. “So everyone should head to your designated hiding spots.”

Nobody budges, just carrying on with their conversation.

“Alright, asshats - you heard Sinclair!” Steve snaps at each of them, glares for good measure. “Find a hiding spot or get the fuck out.” He gives a quick nod to Lucas, who still looks severely stressed, eyes ready to bust out of his skull any minute.

The coach-esque threat does the job. Everyone, ducks into place, voices descending into whispers. Whispers descending into shushes as the minutes draw closer to Max’s arrival. Steve is folded up behind the couch, arms wrapped around his knees.

There’s a small creak coming from the front door. A few people yell 'surprise.' Steve peaks to the side to see Lucas shaking his head at them.

“No, nobody move.” He instructs, voice caught between a yell and whisper. “I was just letting Eddie inside.”

Instinct takes over. Steve twists around the corner of the couch, needing to see for himself that Eddie is here. That he really came.

Clearly, he didn’t move fast enough. Although he could’ve sworn he moved so embarrassingly fast that the vertebras in his back sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies (post-milk).

But no one is there. No Eddie. No Lucas. No one.

“What the-” Something grabs the back of Steve’s shirt, pulling at his collar. A few people start aggressively shushing him.

“Chill out, Stevie.” Eddie is right there, meeting Steve’s face with a lopsided smirk. He’s close, way too close. Still holding the collar of Steve’s shirt with one hand, stretching it out. Keeping them close.

“Just trying to check the tag,” He releases Steve just an inch or so. His voice is so hushed, the quietest Steve has ever fucking heard it. “Wanted to see where I might be able to purchase such a godly article of clothing.”

“Ever heard of a thing called boundaries?” Steve hisses, swatting a strand of Eddie’s hair out of his face.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

They haven’t talked much since that night, barely any interaction for four months. But watching Eddie lean in, angling his head lower to study the tag on Steve’s shirt, hot breath on his neck…

It resets the clock. Flips the hourglass on Steve’s feelings for him.

He’s infatuated all over again, and all it took was Eddie invading his personal space. Just like he always does.

“You’ll have to ask Robin.” Steve whispers. Tries not to flinch when Eddie smooths Steve’s shirt collar back into place. “She’s the one that bought it for me.”

“Damn. Buckley has good taste.”

“Sure does.”

No distance is created. Neither of them move away. Eddie’s eyes continue to sketch over every stitch in Steve’s shirt, every hemline. He seems hyper fixated on it, too fixated to notice Steve’s pink-ish cheeks, thank god.

If it weren’t for the shirt, Steve would assume Eddie is checking him out, looking him up and down with a heavy gaze. Dark pupils, casted darker by the dim lighting.

“Can I?” Eddie raises a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He pauses, lifts an eyebrow at the end of his question.

Steve’s jaw is too tight to answer or counter back with a joke about how Eddie never asks permission before popping personal bubbles. All he can do is nod a little too eagerly.

Eddie reaches into Steve’s sleeve, rubs the material from the inside. A small grin forms on his face. He looks so pleased, purely amused. That’s enough to untangle Steve’s muscles, relaxing under Eddie’s light touch.

But that’s the other thing. He’s barely touching Steve. Every now and then, his knuckles roll over Steve’s skin. Really, that’s it, that’s all he’s doing. And god, Steve craves more.

Eventually, Eddie switches it up, pinching the material between the pads of his fingers. He scoots closer to Steve’s side to do so.

Time feels paused. Time feels rapid. It’s going nowhere and already slipping through his grasp. All Steve can think about is placing his hand underneath Eddie’s chin, bringing his lips up to his own. Kissing him till the clock stops ticking. Till the sand stops running.

“Softest shirt ever.” Eddie gives the material a slight tug. Smiles wider.

Steve gulps. “If you say so.”

“I mean, seriously - it must be made from the glow off an angel’s halo or something, cause damn.”

“You’re a trip, Munson.”

Steve has to keep telling himself that Eddie is obsessed with touching his clothes - he’s not thinking about taking them off of Steve. No matter how much he wants that to be the reality of the situation.

It’s not.

They stay like this till the doorknob clicks, turns. Steve almost forgot that he was at a party, surrounded by other people.

Immediately, all of his senses flip back into Extrovert Autopilot. Everyone jumps out, yells a combination of surprise and congratulations (because they failed to coordinate that apparently).

He stays in this zone for the rest of the party. Talkative and breezy. Charming the pants off Max’s coworkers with silly little anecdotes about her as a kid.

Steve is damn good at hosting. It’s probably in his white-collar bloodline or some shit. Still, anytime Eddie walks by, he glitches up. Temporarily out of sync.

He doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Eddie ducks out early, waving broadly before slipping through the front door.

Time does that weird thing again. Feels paused and rapid all at once as he watches the door shut behind Eddie.

“You okay, man?” Lucas nudges him.

“Yeah.” The gentle gesture returns time back to normal. Brings Steve back into this moment.

“Doing just fine.”

It’s all he thinks about for weeks. Anytime there’s a lull at work or a commercial break on television, Steve drifts. Pictures Eddie is in his shirt, the one he’s so obsessed with.

At first, it’s just that. Basic. Eddie standing in front of him, wearing that muted red, almost pink, shirt. Sometimes smiling, sometimes expectant. Either way, it’s always enough to make Steve’s neck feel flushed, creeping up to his cheeks.

Gradually, it evolves into something more complex. A fantasy, almost dreamlike. He imagines Eddie running his hands all over himself, his torso, his chest. The thin material of the shirt moving and shifting under his palms. His head tipping back, lips plush and red from where he’s gritting down, biting hard. Holding back sounds.

Those images get Steve in trouble. Panting on conference calls and boners at his work desk.

He’s alone in his apartment when it grows, branches off into darker urges. Desires. Steve glances down at the floor, can’t help but wonder what Eddie might look like down there, staring up at him. Wearing Steve’s clothes. Begging Steve to take them off. Rip them, ruin them.

“That fucking does it.” Steve scolds himself, scolds his dick too. He’s calling Eddie Munson right now - before he has time to overthink it.

His hand is trembling as he picks up the house phone, dials out the number he didn’t even know he had memorized. The trembling thing is kinda embarrassing, but it's still better than sticking it down his pants and jerking off while the Cooking Network plays reruns in the background.

Every ring feels drawn out. Stretching time like taffy.

Eddie picks up on the fourth taffy-length ring. “Eddie here.”

“Hey, man.” His voice comes out all strained, bone-dry.

“Shit. That really you, Harrington?”

Apparently his voice comes out unrecognizable too.

“The one and only.”

Eddie snorts loudly into the phone speaker. “Doubt that very much - seems like a common enough name.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, smartass.” Steve rubs his neck, scratching his skin. Working his way to extracting the words out of his throat. “So um… you busy tonight?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers.

“Cool. Me neither.”

There’s silence after that. Well, almost silence. Just a slight hissing sound from the phone line can be heard. Not enough sound to make things less awkward though.

Steve has no good reason to be so antsy, so wired with anxiety. They’ve been friends since metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan back in ‘86. So being outwardly weird around Eddie? It’s too damn fishy.

“Is that it?” Eddie says. “Did you just want to bond over our empty schedules?”

Of fucking course, Eddie would call Steve out on his weird bullshit. Doesn’t know subtlety if it bit him in the ass.

Bad time to think about Eddie’s ass.

“Come over.” Steve blurts out. Needs to say something before a parade of ass-centric images start back up in his mind. “I ordered way too much takeout and there's a stack of movie rentals that I need to binge to minimize those late fees, so yeah… come over.”

No response, even the background hissing from the speaker cuts out. Maybe the phone line went dead. Or maybe Eddie hung up. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s abruptly ended a conversation, perpetually flouncing to whatever is new and shiny. Always distracted.

“What kind of takeout?” He finally responds.

“The Greek place with the kickass tzatziki sauce.” Steve smirks, already knows the answer before Eddie can utter another word.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Eddie arrives in less than an hour, actually. Knocks on Steve’s door exactly 51 minutes after Steve gets off the phone with him. It’s slightly disturbing that Steve suddenly turns into a math whiz when he’s fawning over someone.

Someone that fawns over his clothes more than him, but who gives a shit about logistics?

“Fucking starving.” Eddie says, slamming the door behind him.

Steve smiles, motions his head toward the kitchen. “Help yourself, dude.”

The plan is so stupid. Half-baked at best: get Eddie out of his shirt (and jacket), and into Steve’s shirt instead. That’s it. That’s all Steve’s got so far.

But it’s better than nothing. So what the hell? It’s worth a shot.

He waits until Eddie has stuffed his face with a decent amount of spanakopita, fully reclining on Steve’s couch. Looks incredibly comfy, too comfy to move.

Good.

Steve grabs the strawberry sorbet from his freezer, the one Robin forced him to buy after going vegan last spring. He scoops a bowl for himself and a bowl for Eddie. Exhales the last bit of his self-respect before returning to the living room with the most boring dessert option ever.

“Here you go.” Steve says.

Eddie scrunches his nose at it. “The fuck is this?”

“Sorbet.”

“Why am I not surprised that the former rich kid prefers sorbet over ice cream?”

Steve sputters, takes the bowl back before it further offends Eddie somehow. “That’s not… I didn’t… it’s actually-”

“Deep breath, Stevie. I’m just teasing you.” Eddie yanks the bowl back, shovels a brain-freezing amount into his mouth. “Far too easy, by the way. Give me a bit of a challenge next time. Makes it more fun… for one of us, at least.”

“Fun. Sure.”

“The one of us being me.”

“Got that.”

Steve decides to take Eddie’s ‘challenge’ remark as the perfect cue to set his stupid plan into action.

Steve pretends to shift around on the couch cushion, getting situated. Does this until he ‘accidentally’ fumbles the sorbet. Spills it all over Eddie’s clothes, his distressed black shirt, his dark gray sweatpants. All of it. Makes a much bigger mess than he intended to.

Eddie jumps up. “Goddamnit, Harrington!”

“I am so sorry!” No he’s not. If anything, his apology is more smug than sincere.

“This shit is sticky as hell.”

“Really sorry, man.” Steve hands Eddie a few stray napkins, like that’s going to make a difference.

“Don’t be. It was an accident.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one of the most juvenile tactic that Steve has ever pulled. Truly, it tops the overused movie theater-yawn tactic.

“Here - let me get you a change of clothes.” Steve offers, already heading to his bedroom. He’s walking and talking and fucking fidgeting. Suddenly paranoid that Eddie can see right through him, see all his desperation on display. Splattered everywhere like strawberry sorbet.

He turns back around for a split second. “I’ll throw those in the wash. Have them dry and ready to wear again by the time you head out.”

“Oh…” Eddie keeps patting down his clothes with a sopping napkin, barely listening. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

His acting performance is fucking dismal. Over the top. Porno-level obvious. Must be karma for all of those times he gave Robin and Eddie shit about being in an improv club. Makes a mental note to never mock their nerdy hobbies for the rest of his life.

“Well, it must be my lucky night.” Eddie calls out from the bathroom door, causing Steve to wince at the sheer volume.

“What makes you say that?”

“Bestowing the holy grail of shirts upon me? Allowing me even one hour in downy-soft paradise?” Eddie is using that tone, the one that’s boozy and savory. Borderline mean. Equally hot and annoying. “Possibly the greatest of olive branches you could’ve offered up.”

“Christ, you’re dramatic.” Which is so hypocritical after the stunt he just pulled.

The bathroom door swings open and nothing could’ve prepared Steve for how good Eddie looks in his clothes. The shirt is snug through the sleeves, loose through his chest. Makes Steve realize how differently built they are. The waistband on the athletic shorts is sitting low on his hips, maybe a size too big. If they were any bigger, they’d slip right off. Landing all tousled around his bare feet…

Okay, Steve has got to snap the fuck out of it. He rubs aggressively at his eyes. Needs soap or military-strength detergent to fucking cleanse whatever is going on with him lately.

“We could watch something.” Steve says, even though that’s exactly what he’s already doing.

Watching.

Eddie shrugs. Leans against the wall. “We could.”

“Or… I don’t know.” Steve can’t rip his gaze away from Eddie’s arms. His pale skin looks even lighter against the reddish tones. The waves and curls of black ink look even darker. Just a splash of color has turned him into a landscape of extremes.

“You don’t?”

“Um…” Steve flops, flounders. Scrambling for an idea. A coherent thought. Anything. “Cards. We could play cards.”

Eddie’s forehead wrinkles, then quickly straightens back out. Nodding politely. “Sure, we can do that. If that’s what you want to do.”

Steve mumbles something about grabbing a card deck from the storage closet, although he’s pretty sure it’s unintelligible. Makes a quick escape, jogs at the weirdest tempo known to mankind.

Flirting with a longtime friend is throwing him for a loop. Many loops actually. Theme park amount of loops. All of his usual ease and charm are being denied access. Not tall enough to ride this ride.

The closet is packed with junk, so finding a deck of cards is obnoxiously difficult. He’s tossing coats into piles and shoving shoes into corners. Between his nerves and his determination, Steve is working up a goddamn sweat.

“Need a hand in here?” Eddie’s voice startles him. Steve jolts backwards, straight into a shelf of puzzles. Tons of pieces go flying, some landing in Steve’s hair. Redecorating the fucking closet with tiny bits of colored cardboard.

Fantastic.

Eddie backs away, arms crossing into his chest. “Jesus, man. You’re freaking me out.”

“Sorry.” Steve says. Shakes the puzzle pieces out of his hair.

“Is it the shirt?” The question sounds genuine. No jokes, no sarcasm. “Does it look that bad on me?”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t know how to respond. The shirt looks amazing, that’s not the problem at all. It’s just… “Um, actually-”

“Look, I know I’m not a pastel heartthrob.” Eddie gestures directly to Steve before waving his arms around. He starts pacing in the tiny closet, just ranting away. “And let’s fucking face it. I’m not getting any younger, so I doubt I can pull off this slim-cut style the way I used to… but come on. It can’t be that repulsive, right?”

“Eddie.” Steve frowns.

“Shit, that bad?” Eddie smacks a hand to the top of his hand. Grabs a fistful of his hair and looks down at the shirt, still rambling. “We’re using first names now? What’s next? Gonna bust out my full legal name? My birth certificate? Then we’ll really mean business.”

Okay, yikes. And Steve thought he was the stressed one. This is going south very, very fast. He needs to curb the self-destruction that’s happening in front of him. Just… reach out.

“Hey.” And Steve does. Literally. He places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, sucks in some courage. He waits until Eddie makes eye contact, breathes at a less neurotic speed. Then he exhales all the courage. Turns it into honesty instead. “You look… you look good.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“No, I mean it. It’s different. But in a good way.” Steve skims his nails against the fabric, drawing shapes into Eddie’s shoulder. “I like it.”

“You do?”

Steve nods. Bites down on his lip, flicks his eyes to Eddie’s mouth. “Like it on you.”

The energy between them is thick, clinging to Steve’s skin. It’s new except it’s not. Steve has felt it before. At the bar, the party, that random Thursday in 1993. He recognizes the flex and curl in his stomach as Eddie takes one step forward, then two. The feeling is familiar and strange combined. Knotted tight.

Eddie raises an eyebrow before taking another step. Like the day behind the couch. Quiet permission, one he doesn’t ask for often. Only when it means something.

Steve lets the hand on Eddie’s shoulder fall slowly. Catching the material at the bottom, tugging it forward. Prays to fucking god that’s all the permission Eddie needs.

“You were right.” Steve lets his hand drift back up, landing in the center of Eddie’s chest. Wrinkling and smoothing the fabric underneath. “It really is soft.”

Eddie’s breath hitches up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice drops lower, richer. “Could touch this all day.”

Eddie thumbs over Steve’s bottom lip, drifting into the small space between them. He places both hands on Steve's cheeks and kisses him firmly. Steve presses in deeper, breathes out through his nose so that he doesn’t have to break away.

It’s so good, kissing like they’re teenagers behind the bleachers. So swept away in the heat and hunger that they’d be late for class. Showing up to study hall with blotchy skin and achy lips. They keep kissing just like that. Feeling, exploring. Lingering in all the areas that seem to make the other person hum or gasp.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers. His hands push up into Steve’s hair, combing it back, pulling in down with an edge. Hard enough to make Steve tilt his head, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah?” Steve replies. Barely a question, too lost in the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his neck.

Eddie rubs his mouth over the edge of Steve’s jaw. “You’re so…”

The sentence stops right there, never gets finished either. He nuzzles over the wet spots of skin covering Steve’s neck. Marks them all up with a gentle nip, not enough to leave bruises. Just enough to make Steve shiver.

Steve is making so many breathy noises, which should be humiliating. Pathetic for someone who’s had fucking loads of first kisses, even more makeout sessions.

But none of that really matters, his age or experience or slutty track record. Nothing counts when being kissed like this. Nothing can stop Steve from taking this moment, eating up all of the sounds and sensations.

Fuck, he wants all of it. Wants Eddie closer somehow, on top of him, beneath him, surrounding him.

He can’t stop tugging at Eddie’s shirt, well… his shirt. No doubt that it’s stretching out, close to ripping it. Keeps pulling it anyways - dragging Eddie into him till Steve’s back is pressed up against the wall.

“Come here.” Steve curls a finger under Eddie’s chin, brings his face back up to him. Not nearly done kissing him stupid, square on the lips. His mouth is warmer now, a few degrees hotter from sucking Steve’s neck. Licks into Steve’s mouth, gets him to whine at how good it feels.

The washing machine timer goes off, buzzing throughout the whole apartment. But Steve can’t let this end, he can’t.

Except for the buzzing won’t let up. Continuously interrupting all the delicious noises that Eddie makes whenever Steve bites over his bottom lip, gets it nice and puffy between his teeth.

“Should we...?” Eddie smushes his nose into Steve’s before motioning to the door.

“Yeah probably,” Steve unclaws his hand from Eddie’s waist. Kisses him once more before sliding out of reach.

As he walks down the hallway, heading into he laundry room, he hears it. Eddie’s voice, still inside the closet. Chanting the same phrase over and over again:

‘Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Holy fucking shit!’

Steve cracks a smile. Kind of hard to believe his heart is chanting the same damn phrase. So full of adrenaline, fucking crumbling under this wave of raw emotion.

Really, he never thought he’d find himself in this situation. Holding Eddie’s clean clothes in one hand, thumbing over his kiss-bitten lips with his other hand. Impatiently craving to get back to where they left off, hopefully on the couch or bed or floor this time.

“Hurry it up, will ya?” Eddie whistles behind him.

“What’s the rush?” Steve tosses the clothes into the dryer, doesn’t turn around because his self-restraint will be fucked if he does.

“My lips are getting cold.”

“That’s the best line you got?”

“For now, yeah.” Eddie says. “You sucked out all of my brain cells with your mouth. Can’t expect me to be Swayze-level smooth after something like that.”

No way he’s allowed to be so damn cute comparing himself to Patrick Swayze. As if they're even in the same league. Endearing, really.

“You can head back to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve pushes a few buttons on the dryer. The timer starts, another reset on the clock.

Feelings that flip the hourglass once again.

He really fucking hopes it never runs out this time.

Eddie is perched on the floor, flipping through the channels on the tv. He's squinting at the harsh light because for some insane reason, he always insists on watching the tv in total darkness.

Even that’s cute now. Annoyingly cute.

Steve joins him on the floor, instantly slouching into Eddie’s arms because he can do that now. Completely allowed to be sweet and gross and smitten.

“Guess my theory was wrong after all.”

“Hm?” Eddie replies, still mindlessly channel-surfing.

Steve gives Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek (because he can do that now too), and looks at the shirt. Muted red, almost pink. Soft and touchable. “Apparently, you do get cool birthday gifts as an adult.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

This thing between him and Eddie. It feels longer than running sand or ticking timers. Longer than their years of friendship. Maybe not timeless…

“I’ll tell you later, Eddie.”

But pretty damn close.

#steddie #steddie fic #Steve has a really soft shirt and Eddie can't stop touching it #that's it. that's the plot lol.

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xxcallmemaryxx · 5 months

Note

HIYA THERE!! im in absolute LOVE with everything u write like omg idk how many times ive reread everything here BAHSJBDGAS

ssssoooo if youre still doing ur lovely requests, may i ask for how a virgin AFAB reader's first time with the ghouls would be?

like the reader is hella scared of intimacy but is damn fucking horny and badly wants to take the next step with them? yeah hnggh

ITS UH FOR A FRiEND

Heheheehee this is gonna be soooooo self indulgent

Ghouls x GN reader

(Obviously talks of sex, but no smut and nothing going into detail)

Mountain knew before you even said anything to him. Ever the observer, he picked up on your change in behaviour almost immediately. He was aware of your lack of experience, so when you felt you were absolutely ready to share this moment with him, and from your own change in behaviour around him… Mountain put it together pretty quickly. Mountain spent days mentally planning how he was going to make the night perfect for you, so when the night came, and you were both sure it was happening… he spent every second focusing entirely on you. He is very observant and he pays very close attention to your body and the way you respond to him. Mountain will constantly ask you if you’re okay and if what he’s doing feels good. Of course for your first time he takes it easy, and focuses on getting you used to (not only him) but to lots of different sensations that come with having sex for the first time. All in all, it’s very very intimate with Mountain. He makes sure you can feel every ounce of love and affection has for you, he secretly has a lot of pride in the fact that you trusted him with such vulnerability. And he will cherish this very moment for the rest of eternity.

Aether almost can’t believe you’re trusting him to share this moment with you. When you tell him, he asks you about one million times if you’re sure, not because he doesn’t want too… but because he is so ecstatic about this he doesn’t believe he isn’t dreaming. Once it really sinks in that yes, you want to have sex for the first time with him he immediately sits down with you and has you throughly tell him what’s good and what’s not good for you. He goes nice and slow, his self control with you is unreal. Only focusing on you feeling good, to Aether his own pleasure is not important right now. This is about you and you having a good first time. He holds you so gently, and checks in with you constantly. And Aether looooves to tell you how good you feel and how good you’re doing and how proud he is of you. He will absolutely hold your hand the whole time to keep you nice and grounded with him, keeping you close to him and as comfortable as possible. To Aether, sex isn’t about the end goal. It’s about the act itself. The intimacy and the real and raw feelings that flow between the two of you. That is what he loves the most, and he is just so unbelievably grateful that he gets to share this with you.

Swiss takes a bit of a different approach, in the sense that he still wants you to have a good time but he doesn’t want you to focus too hard on it being as perfect as possible. He wants you to feel good, and he wants you to feel good with him. So he sticks to what he knows… which is being a little bit goofy with you. He 100% helps you get comfortable, and makes sure you have everything you need before you two start. Don’t get him wrong, he completely understands how important this is to you and that this is a big deal. It’s a big deal to him, Swiss is over the moon to share this with you and it’s something he too will never ever forget, but ultimately he’s going to keep the mood light, that way if something doesn’t feel too good at one point, or if you don’t finish (because that is completely natural, which he made a point of telling you just incase) he wants to ensure that you still had a fun first time despite the possibility of it not being as perfect as possible. The time for experimenting and having more serious or intimate sex is later, the time for just enjoying the moment and enjoying each other is now. So expect some hushed giggles between the two of you, expect him to be all smiles the whole time and expect him to just be really chill and happy. Happy to be with you. Happy to be experiencing this with you. And happy that he is able to make this moment as enjoyable and memorable as possible for you.

Dewdrop is all guns blazing ready to run at whatever the hell the world throws at him at every waking minute since he was summoned… so when you told him you wanted him to be the ghoul you lose your virginity too he could barely keep himself calm. He pretty much drags you back to his room with the biggest smile on his face. Let it be known he has zero malicious intent here, this behaviour is pure excitement to experience this with you. He’s got about a million questions to ask, everything ranging from what you think you’re into to what’s on or off the table tonight. Dewdrop is eager, partly to feel good with you and partly to be the reason why you feel good. He can’t stop kissing you, you two haven’t even made it to the bedroom yet and he just can’t stop himself. He’s a real talker, he likes to tell you every little detail about how good he feels all because of you and how amazing you feel and how well you’re doing. He picks up on the way your eyes light up and your shoulders untense when he tells you this. His claws are all over you, pulling you closer to him and touching you everywhere. He reminds himself to chill out a little, and there will be more opportunities to switch things up a bit later. His eagerness to please you shines through quite a few times and he speeds up a little without realising, but he catches himself. Despite all this, he still keeps a close eye on you. Making sure you’re still present with him and enjoying yourself as much as he is, if the sounds he’s happily pulling from you have anything to do with it.

Rain was not at all prepared, he was happy to be with you and exist with you and love you without the sex for as long as you wanted. Even if that meant forever. He never wanted you to feel pressured at all, so if it never happened between you two he was okay with that. But imagine his surprise when you very confidently brought it up to him, and told him you wanted him. Him!! He almost didn’t believe you, and he absolutely had to double check you were sure you wanted him right? So when the time came and you were both in bed together he was nervous. What if he does something wrong? What if he does something you don’t like? What if you don’t enjoy yourself? He cuddled up with you for a bit to settle himself down and then he was able to snap himself out of it and realise even if it didn’t all too smoothly you two could always try again another time. He checks in on you a lot, double and triple checking that you felt good and that what he was doing was okay. He presses constant little kisses all over your face and neck, trying to keep himself as grounded as possible because damn you just feel phenomenal. He tells you too… but he figures you already knew that from the sounds he’s not able to keep to himself. He coaxes the most beautiful sounds from you as well, and he can’t help but get a little bit lost in you. You both soak each other in and really just take the time to make love to each other for as long as you both want. There’s no end goal here, just loving each other.

Phantom could probably be considered a little bit less experienced too. Since being summoned not too long ago there’s a lot he’s still getting used to and things he’s yet to properly experience. Sex was one of them. Well… sex on the surface… and with a human. You two bonded over this, it came as a kind of comfort knowing there was someone else who just understood. Which ultimately turned into being the very person you both wanted to change that with. Phantom had a pretty good idea of what to do, you were the one that was going in with nothing to go off. The only thing with Phantom was… he wasn’t prepared for how good you were going to feel. It really threw him, and so as a result his mind went completely blank and all he knew was you. Just you. The way you looked underneath him, the way you felt around him, the way your hands held onto him and don’t even get him started on the way you sounded. And then just like that he was zoned in. Chasing pleasure he couldn’t believe he’d gone so long without. He held you close and buried himself within your being. Trying to just scoop up as much of you as he possibly could hold. He gets a little bit possessive over you, because he now has the knowledge that he was the one who introduced this pleasure to you, and helped you experience this for the first time. And he would rather march himself back down to hell then ever let anybody take this very special moment away from the both of you.

(Also hey requests are open but shhhh you didn’t hear it from me)

#the band ghost #the band ghost x reader #ghost band #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls x reader #mountain ghoul #mountain ghoul x reader #aether ghoul #aether ghoul x reader #swiss ghoul #swiss ghoul x reader #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop ghoul x reader #rain ghoul #rain ghoul x reader #phantom ghoul #phantom ghoul x reader #mary’s headcannons

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whiskeynwriting · 10 months

Text

How the Boys Act With Their Brand New Babies

Captain John Price, John “Soap” McTavish, König, Simon “Ghost” Riley

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Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Pregnancy, descriptions of birth (natural and cesarean), breastfeeding, established relationships/marriages, mentions of drugs (during C-Section), godparents, and I think that’s it!

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A/N: The baby fever is so real you guys. Also, the only one out of this group that screams “boy dad” is Price and no one can change my mind.

Thank you so so much to @thesleepingmusicneek for helping me with beta-reading and general plot additions with this piece and so many others I've posted recently 🥰🥰🥰

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Masterlists - Price | Soap | König | Ghost |

Join My Taglist!

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Captain John Price (~1k words)

Benjamin Price

John’s base instinct is “protector and provider” and Lord does that skyrocket with your son.

“No.”

“John.”

“I said no, not happening.” Turning, he held your son out of your mother’s reach. “She hasn’t washed her hands.”

Chuckling, you crossed your arms. “Baby, I think it’ll be o -”

Reaching over to grab a bottle of hand sanitizer, he held it out to your mother. “At least sanitize.”

There was something ridiculously funny about John, your hardened soldier, holding onto this pudgy, little baby. And what made it even funnier, was that Benji had a straight face nearly the entire time; staring over at his grandmother as if to say, do what my daddy says. John and his son were two peas in a damn pod.

Watching others hold his baby wasn’t an easy task. Regardless of whether or not they were family, it made his palms sweat, made his breaths shallow and fingers fidgety. What if they dropped him? Pinched him too hard? Bounced him too fast? Made him frown or cry? And by the time his thoughts started spiraling, he’d just get up and snatch him right back.

While John was more than proud to show off your little family, he might as well have “look, don’t touch” painted across his forehead. Even his own parents didn’t have access to Benji unless they followed his standards. And family friends? Strangers at the park? Yeah, they can forget even saying hi to him.

“He is a cutie, isn’t he?” John beamed, nodding along to one of your friend’s comments. “Hey,” He then said, holding out a hand. “What’re you doing?”

“Oh, I was just going to hold his little hand!”

“I don’t think so, Deb.”

“John, she’s only being nice.” Chastising him lightly, you tilted your head with sympathy.

“Nice or not, she’s not touching my son.”

John acted as if everyone was out to snatch up his son and take off running. And he didn’t care if he hurt anyone’s feelings in the process of protecting him.

“Love, you’ve got to be nicer.”

“Why?”

“Because these are our friends, our family!”

“Just keeping him safe,” He then turned to the chubby bundle in his arms. “That’s all.”

As per usual, Benji had that straight look on his face, expression matching that of his father. And Christ, do they look alike. He’s practically a carbon copy of John.

Shaking your head, you chuckle. “You and your mini me.”

And John’s face lifts with the brightest grin, cheeks cherry red with happiness. “Handsome chap.” He says, bouncing Benji on his lap.

Try as you might, there’s no changing John’s mind. In order to keep your baby boy happy and healthy, everyone and everything had to be clean. John ran a tight ship, something you’ve gotten used to in your marriage. And, you figure, in the end it’s only helping Benji.

When it came to the birth of your son, John made sure to have a plan. You and your doctors discussed a scheduled C-Section beforehand, and the two of you adapted well to this. They informed you of every detail, and after that, you discussed things on your own end. Back at home, John helped you devise a game plan, a list of things that you’d need and the exact steps to take when the day came. And when the moment finally arrived, everything went surprisingly smooth.

While it was difficult for John to see you under the influence of so many narcotics, that was the least of his worries. During your procedure, he focused on yours and the baby’s health. And even though you weren’t entirely conscious, he made sure to stay by your side. While you bore the weight of the most intense struggles, your husband intended to take on the burdens of every other task that he possibly could. That meant aiding in your recovery, and your son’s growth.

Once home, John was your round-the-clock nurse. On a timed schedule, he’d clean your incision and make sure it was healing well. He kept your nightstand fully stocked with water and pain medicine, as well as your comfiest heating pad. The ensuite had all the postpartum pads you could need, and he never left you alone in the shower. When it came to Benji, John did all of the nighttime feedings, and all of the nappie changings. He didn’t want you lifting a single finger, not while you were resting.

In the evening, John often cuddled in bed with you, bringing Benjamin along to nestle between your bodies. You both admired him, pet him softly and kissed his little hands and big, round belly. It was mesmerizing to you, the fact that you created this perfect, little soul. And while you focused your affections on your newborn son, you and John made sure to save some of it for each other, too.

“Beautiful.”

“I know,” Cooing quietly, you smiled down at him.

“No,” Shaking his head, John drew your attention back to him. “You, lovie.”

“I’ve been in bed for three days, this isn’t beautiful.” While you laugh, John tuts sadly.

“Don’t know how you could be so blind.”

But what you certainly aren’t blind to, is John’s unconditional love. And that is more healing to you than any medication on the market.

Though, that doesn’t stop the rest of the boys from trying. In their thoughtfulness, Johnny and Kyle have brought you gift baskets full of after-pregnancy goodies. Snacks and sweet drinks, fuzzy socks and cute onesies for little Benji. They were even kind enough to include postpartum pads.

“You guys are too much.” In the midst of it all, tears roll down your cheeks.

Shrugging, Kyle just grins. “Least I can do for my godson.”

Out of the entire group, John was the first to have a baby. And he wasted no time in making Kyle Benjamin’s godfather. And the boys understood; John and Kyle had a bond that exceeded brotherhood.

Of course, Simon tagged along. But he wasn’t exactly familiar with babies. Soap encouraged him to bring a gift, but all he could come up with was an Amazon gift card.

“I um, well… here. For his… things.” Ghost handed you the card awkwardly, but you smiled brightly regardless.

“Thank you, Simon.” Bringing him into a firm hug, he released a soft grunt, eventually patting your back.

“Alright, alright.” Johnny announces, “I think it’s time, Cap. Where’s that baby?”

Christ sake, John internally groans. “Have you sanitized?”

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John “Soap” McTavish (~1.2k words)

Elsie McTavish

Is so excited about the baby that he sometimes forgets himself.

“I know, I know.” He’d respond, only half annoyed.

“Just, p-please,” Reaching out with shaky hands, you watched as Johnny swung your newborn infant around in his arms. “Watch her head!”

“Aye,” Johnny sighs, rolling those beautiful blue eyes.

Pulling her to his chest, he lets her head rest on one of those broad shoulders, bouncing a bit as he pats her on the back.

“How’mie supposed to have fun with my daughter if ye won’t stop nit-pickin’?”

“Baby, I’m just, I want her to be -”

“Safe, I know, bonnie. She is safe with me.” He then grins, turning to your daughter as he holds her up in front of him. “Aren’t ye, wee lassie?

And you suppose he’s right. Being a helicopter parent isn’t fun for anybody. Besides, Johnny loves your daughter enough to keep her safe and you should trust him with her.

“Ohh,” Johnny starts, and you think, here we go again. “Elsie and her daddy, say he’s a good ‘ole laddie. He’ll keep you safe and happy. We’ll play all day and sing away, yes Elsie and her daddy.”

Your husband’s makeshift songs never ceased to put a smile on your face. Johnny was always a fun and carefree man, but with your daughter? He was the goofiest dad.

Whenever you needed rest, he’d jump right to his feet, swooping in to take her to wherever she needed to be. The changing table for a new nappie, the kitchen for a bottle, or simply to the couch to give you some much-needed alone time. There was never a complaint, never a sigh or roll of his eyes. Oftentimes, you’d stumble into a room to find Johnny enjoying himself even more than Elsie. He became so animated when reading books to her, acting out scenes and making the noises of each animal. And it made her giggle wildly. He’d fidget with the toys on her playmat while she laid with him, roll the rattles around and build with the rings and blocks. But most of all, he’d interact with her. Regardless of her being barely two months old, Johnny had full-on conversations with your daughter.

“And then what happened?” He’d ask, sounding completely interested. And she’d babble back to him, as if she was truly joining in.

Nodding, he raised his brows. “That’s wild, lass. Shouldn't have to put up with that.”

Another babble, a little giggle.

“Aye, nothing wrong with that.”

Sometimes, she’d slam her little hand, and Johnny would raise his own in defense. “Oi, no need to get political about it.”

Johnny’s newest baby obsession is doing her hair. She was born with so much of it that he decided one day, he ought to do something about it. And so, he bought a pack of colorful bows, using them to make a little mohawk in her hair. You happened to walk in on him in the middle of it one day, your daughter sitting on his lap and cooing innocently while he made her look like a rockstar.

When he looked up to find you in the doorway, he grinned. “Like it?”

And you’d be daft to say it wasn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

Your husband truly embraced the excitement and general fun of fatherhood. He figured enough seriousness surrounded her birth, why not make the rest of her life as joyful as can be?

It was an emergency C-Section, something neither of you were prepared for. There was no question of whether or not he’d be in the room with you, he simply put on the plastic hospital gown and cap and followed you in. His hand didn’t leave yours, not even for a second. Even though you were given medicine to dull the pain and any real feeling, he wanted you to know he was there.

When your daughter was successfully taken from your womb, things finally started calming down. After that, your health went back to normal. You didn’t lose too much blood, your stitches went in properly, and you were wheeled back to your room to start your recovery. Johnny was thanking the Lord that the two of you made it out okay, that both of his girls were safe. And while he waited for you to wake up, he sat in the room with your newborn baby, laying her over his chest while she slept.

“Little bonnie,” He whispered, kissing her head. “My Elsie girl.”

It was at that moment that she became his new best friend, his partner in crime, his perfect angel. He saw it as a privilege, really, taking care of you in your recovery while also caring for Elsie. Not everyone has this, he often thought to himself. My wonderful family.

And he couldn’t wait to show off his little clan.

As soon as she was ready for visitors, he invited everyone he possibly could. Friends, family, an entire get together just for her. And she was definitely her father’s daughter, blue eyes bright with excitement as each and every person greeted her with delight. Ever the extrovert herself, she giggled for hours, bouncing on people’s laps as they each took turns entertaining her.

“Oh, oh! And watch this!” Johnny says, setting down his glass and leaning toward his little girl. “Elsie, look at daddy!” And that’s just what she does, watching as Soap widens his eyes with his brows raised high. Perfectly, she mimics him.

“The smartest little thing!” Her nanny cheered, clapping with pride.

“Ah ken, ma!” Johnny responds to his mum, agreeing with her wholeheartedly. “She’s just a wee little thing, already clever as wits.”

And your side of the family couldn’t possibly be more proud. They’d been waiting for ages to have a grandbaby, and knew if they waited for the right time, you and Johnny would give them just that.

“Oh, what’s this about?” You chime in, frowning when Elsie suddenly begins to cry.

“She’s hungry, eh?” Your husband chuckles, reaching out to stroke her mini hand. “Go on then, go to mummy.”

The two of you were lucky enough to have a respectful family, entirely understanding of whenever you needed to take her away for a feeding. And oftentimes, Johnny would come with you. He saw it as a bonding moment, for all three of you. When he first asked, he seemed incredibly timid about it, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But you thought it sweet; him holding you, while you held your baby, lulling her to sleep with your warm milk.

“She’s dozing.” Johnny whispers into your ear, head dipping to kiss your shoulder.

Together, you’d gone up to your marital bedroom, sitting up on your bed. Johnny’s back rested against the headboard, while your own rested against his firm chest. He’d butterfly his legs out, welcoming you between them and holding you close with every limb. And sitting like this, is when Elsie was the coziest.

“You’re amazin’, bonnie.” Keeping his voice hush, Johnny rests his chin on your shoulder, admiring your baby from above. “Thank you, so much.”

“What for, baby?”

“For givin’ me her, our sweet Elsie. And just… bein’ with me. You’re everything to me.”

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König (~1.2k words)

Gisela and Avelina

He had been enamored since the moment the test showed positive.

The word paternal is the perfect description for him. Even before having a baby in his arms, König embraced fatherhood wholeheartedly. He read all the baby books, took you to all your classes and participated equally in them. Every night, he’d sit by your tummy and read, talk to the baby and sing German lullabies. He thought he had everything figured out, thought he was prepared in every way.

That is, until he learned that there were two of them.

“I… I can’t believe it.”

“Oh my gosh…”

Your collective shock made the doctor giggle, continuing to inform you that not only were they identical, they were girls.

“Daughters,” König then said, eyes widening. “Two daughters…”

Worry began to swirl inside your belly from his words, his hesitancy. Glancing up at him from your lying position, you asked quietly, “Are you not… you’re not happy?”

“My love,” Releasing a quick breath, he knelt by your side, immediately taking your hand. “I couldn’t be happier.” And he was beaming. “Daughters, Schatz. We’re going to have two little girls.” (Sweetheart)

And to prepare for their arrival, he bought nearly everything in sight.

“Schatz, look! Look at what I bought for them.” (Sweetheart)

Lumbering in with three shopping bags, he sat you down in the living room to show you everything he got to welcome your baby girls into the family. One by one, he pulled each item out, displaying multiple onesies, mini dresses, bows for their hair, new blankets and swaddles, the list goes on.

“So cute,” He muttered to himself, holding up a purple dress. And just hearing this mountain of a man use the word cute made you smile from ear to ear.

“Gisela will wear pink,” Your husband decides, “And Avelina, she will dress in purple. Matching, but different, ja?”

When König found out he was having two babies, he knew he’d have no problem giving them both an equal amount of love. He never once worried about having to devote time to each of them, make them each feel cared for and adored. In his mind, it wasn’t even a question. He knew he had more than enough affection to give to each of his girls.

He’d even gone out of his way to stock up on the essentials - diapers, creams, wipes and bottles. And although the twins won’t be able to use them for a few months, he also took it upon himself to buy some toys - mostly soft blocks, rattles, play mats, and stuffies.

“They’re going to be spoiled.” You grinned, not the least bit annoyed by your husband’s overzealous preparation. How could anyone be annoyed by that?

And now that they’re here, König finally has the opportunity to truly shower them with all his love. Every nighttime feeding was, in his words, their best time to bond. When the world is quiet, and you are finally resting, it’s just him and his daughters. And with his imaginative and resourceful talents, König figured out a way to tie their bottles to their little rockers, pushing the chairs back and forth as they ate. He never wanted to feed them one at a time, he thought it cruel to have one watch their sibling eat while they themselves were hungry.

Whenever the girls were done eating, he’d hold them, lay them both over his broad, bare chest, allowing them to feel his warm skin. It comforted the girls, cuddling with their father. You thought maybe one of them might favor you, but that hope quickly dwindled. They are definitely daddy’s girls. But it was hard to be jealous when every one of this trio’s interactions were breathtakingly sweet. Their bond was something that genuinely brought a tear to your eye, in both sentimental and humorous ways.

“GG!” He calls to her, holding up his phone. This nickname for your gorgeous daughter came quickly, along with Gisela-Bella, Ella, and your personal favorite… “Meine Schnuckel!”

“What does that even mean?” Chuckling to yourself, you watch as Gisela’s father attempts to take a picture of her.

“My cutie!” He answers cheerfully, your daughter looking right at him as soon as he says it.

“Yes! Perfect, my beauties.” And then he’s leaning over to show you. “Look, look at them. The cutest things. I’m so happy Ava was already looking.”

Avenlina’s nicknames consisted of Ava, Lina-Ballerina, and… “My little Spatzi.”

As if responding to her German name, Avelina babbles back to her father, just like she always does. Between the two of them, she was certainly the talker, always chirping away, König’s little sparrow.

The photo he shows you prompts a small laugh from your end, a wide smile growing across your lips. He’d dressed them up in the most adorables outfit you’d ever seen, strawberry and blueberry dresses. GG wore the pink one, of course, with Ava in blue. Each outfit had a berry hat and matching shoes, too.

Genuinely, he could never get enough of them. Whether it was spoiling the girls with presents or giving them every bit of his time, your husband did everything he could to be the best father. But there were times he’d have no choice but to hand them over to you, their daytime feedings being one of those scenarios. Although, it’s not like he didn’t join you.

Laying beside you in bed, he shifts onto his side, watching with love in his eyes. You’ve gotten used to feeding them both, being blessed with the ability to produce enough milk to sustain them. And while sitting back against the headboard, you do just that, rocking the girls gently as they drink.

“She has my eyes, don’t you think?” Reaching over, König taps little Gisela’s chin.

And he’s right; her piercing blue gaze is just like his. “Absolutely.”

“Sie sind so schön.” Whispering, he stares up at his daughters with sincere wonder in his eyes. “You made them.” (They are so beautiful)

“I know.” Giggling, you nod in response. “Do you think Ava has my nose?” You wonder aloud, watching as their eyelids begin to droop.

“Of course, that perfect little button.” He adds, gently booping his younger daughter’s nose. Though, only younger by two minutes.

Unable to help himself, König then leans in, placing a gentle kiss to Avelina’s head, being that she’s closest to him. And then one of those large hands is lifting, petting gently at his eldest’s thin, blonde hair.

“Let me put them to bed, Schatz.” (Sweetheart)

“No,” Whining quietly, you puff out your lower lip. “I wanna.”

It was something the two of you often ‘fought’ about; neither of you could get enough of your precious daughters. Even while giving birth, he practically tried to catch them with his bare hands. He was the first to hold them, each of them, even before they were placed on your chest. It made for quite the special moment, though. It was him who laid them onto you, one at a time, your little family coming together as you finally held your daughters, your sweet babies.

To König, there was nothing more inspiring than seeing you give birth to his daughters. You were fierce, powerful, and he was there to support you every step of the way. Hell, he was practically your birthing coach. He cheered you, doted on you until you’d insisted you were okay. In his mind, no one could care for you or your daughters better than him. And that caring instinct only continues to grow as your family does.

◆

Simon “Ghost” Riley (~1.3k words)

Charlotte Riley

Isn’t quite sure what to do, and always looks to you for guidance.

It’s not that Simon doesn’t love his daughter, or isn’t interested in her, he’s just afraid. Afraid he’ll hurt her, make her cry or just do something wrong. He’s so big and she’s just so… little. She’s the most precious, fragile thing he’s ever seen and honestly, he’s wondering how he was even capable of making her.

“Do you want to hold her, Si?” Your voice is gentle, looking up at him with encouragement in your eyes. “She wants you.”

“I don’t know, love.”

The huge, menacing man you grew to love was quickly dwindled down to a nervous wreck when it came to your newborn daughter. He’d wring his hands, rub the back of his neck and constantly shift his stance. When Charlotte was with you, he was calm. But in literally every other scenario, he felt like he was about to lose his head.

During the birthing process, Simon was sweating bullets. You were in an ungodly amount of pain and he had no idea what to do, there wasn’t anything he could do. But after a moment, his instincts kicked in. Thanks to his background and general personality, his body often chooses to take action in these fight or flight instances. And he figured the best thing he could do was to just be there for you. He leaned down, wrapped an arm around your shoulder and kept his head right beside your own, holding your hand with his free one and letting you squeeze and claw him as hard as you needed to. You called out for him, crying miserably through the pain. It tore his insides to shreds, it was heart-wrenching.

“I’m here, I promise I’m here. And you’re so strong, sweetheart. You can do this, you can.”

And now, it’s your turn to reassure him.

“I promise it’ll be okay.” Pushing your folded arms out toward your husband, you bring her just a bit closer to him. “You don’t want to hold your baby?”

“I, I feel like…”

“Don’t be nervous, Si. She loves you, she trusts you. You can do this.”

He gulped then, eyes floating down to the small bundle in your hands. Only, it’s not just a small pile of blankets. It’s his daughter, his Lottie girl. And so, with a sigh, he nods, straightening his stance.

I can do this.

With a smile on your face, you watch as he gently, slowly, takes her from your arms.

“How, how do I -”

“Support her head.” Answering softly, you show him just how to do it, gently maneuvering his strong arms and large hands. “There you go, just like that.”

At first, you were annoyed with him. Did he not pay attention in your parenting classes? Did he not actually read the books you gave him? But an honest conversation quickly put those worries to rest. Simon did pay attention, he did read those books, he had all the knowledge he needed to succeed at this. But he just didn’t trust himself with it, with her. None of those classes prepared for him an actual baby. He thought he’d surely and properly fuck this up if given the chance, but right now, he’s proving himself wrong.

“Look at you, Si.” The reassurance in your tone makes his heart beat with happiness and pride. All he wants to do is please you, both of you.

Glancing down at his daughter, Simon nods, uttering a quiet yet confident, “Yeah…”

But a breath of air is quickly sucked in when he sees her squirm, his body stiffening immediately. You hold out your hands and pause, urging him to just wait. And within seconds, she’s calming down again, tiny body snuggling into his chest.

“She, um…”

“She loves you, baby.” Stepping closer, you slide a finger over her little hand, cooing, “You love your daddy, Lottie?”

“Stop it.” He orders playfully, eyes unwavering from Charlotte’s sweet face. And when you quirk a brow at him, he continues grumpily, “Making me all emotional.”

But what you said was true, he can do this. He wants to do this.

And he does.

It takes less than a week for Simon to get used to this, becoming so comfortable with your daughter that he openly scoops her up from your arms whenever he pleases. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of how to feed or burp her yet, but he has been helping you with diaper changes. He’ll watch you perform the task or explain a piece of it, and then he’ll do it, testing the waters a bit. It’s slow, but it’s progress.

What helps with this is his best mate, having a baby of his own to demonstrate.

“Hold the bottle like this.” Johnny instructs, showing Ghost how he holds his own daughter. “Yeah!”

“Alright,” Ghost nods, voice quiet and a bit shaky.

Charlotte’s head rests on the bulk of Simon’s bicep, the rest of her body cradled on his lap. And with the bottle perfectly angled, she drinks easily and happily. Elsie does the same, but that’s nothing new.

“Have you read to her?”

“Read to her? But… she doesn’t understand it, Johnny.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Soap shrugs, grabbing his baby’s backpack to pull out some of her favorite stories. Well, Johnny’s favorite stories. “Elsie loves it! Surely my little godlassie will, too.”

How that came about, nobody really knows. It sort of just… happened, the two of them being their daughter’s godfathers. Nobody fit the role better than them, it was just common knowledge.

Opening an interactive tale about animals in the jungle, Johnny reads to the girls, their eyes watching him intently. Now that they’re done eating, they focus on Johnny and the way he’s speaking, his facial expressions and movements.

“The monkey says… ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” Reaching forward, he quickly tickles their tummies, watching as they erupt into laughter. “Here Si, you give it a go.”

Shoving the book into his hands, he watches his friend gulp. It’s as if an entire crowd is in front of him, and not his best friend and two baby girls.

“The, um… the lion says… roar.”

The girls do nothing, and Johnny rolls his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, put your heart into it! The lion says roar!”

Clearing his throat, Ghost nods, staring at the simple picture book. “The lion says… ROAR!”

But instead of giggling, the girls start crying, and Simon is tossing the book down in an instant. Scooping his daughter up into his arms again, he mutters a grumpy Christ while patting her back and bouncing her lightly.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Daddy’s sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but Johnny can still hear him. And he smiles.

“Don’t worry about it.” Keeping his chuckles to himself, Johnny then says, “Lottie’s got a great dad. I can tell.”

“How in the bloody hell is this so hard?” His voice is still low, keeping his cheek beside her own in an attempt to comfort her.

“You’ll get the hang of it.” Soap is resting easy, having calmed his daughter down in less than a minute. “What d’ya say we have a day together? Just us four?”

“And do… what?” Simon hasn’t yet mastered the art of interacting with his tiny baby. He doesn’t know what she’s receptive to. But how will he ever know if he never tries?

“We can go to the zoo! Practice those lion roars.” Johnny jokes with a grin, watching his best mate roll his eyes. “Really though, it’ll be good for the girls.” And you, but he doesn’t say that part out loud.

“That… actually sounds nice.” The hammering heartbeat in his chest has slowed now that his daughter has grown silent, only small coos slipping from her lips.

Honestly, Simon doesn’t know what he’d do without you and Johnny. He’d be completely lost, and in more ways than one. But with your collective encouragement, he finds himself growing into his fatherly role more and more every day.

◆

Bonus - Uncle!Price (~500 words)

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) Underage drinking, mentions of drug usage, partying.

“You’re shitting me.” He says into the phone, dumbfounded.

“I didn’t mean to, Pricey. Promise!”

Charlotte’s tone on the other end of the phone only makes the situation worse; she’s very clearly inebriated. The background noise doesn’t help the conversation, either, nothing but boisterous teenagers shouting and singing.

“What pub are you at?”

“Not at one,” Hiccuping, she then swallows. “At a… party.”

“Christ, Lottie.” But he’s already walking out to his car and starting the engine. “Text me the address, lovie.”

“You won’t tell dad?” She whispers on the other end, as if Simon could somehow hear her.

“No, hun. But you’ve got to be better about this.”

It wasn’t the first time John had picked his niece up from a situation like this. Out of the group’s kids, she was definitely the partier. As soon as she hit her teenage years, she ran Simon up a goddamn wall. But she honestly didn’t mean to, she wasn’t a bad kid. She just sometimes got herself into bad situations. There had even been times at her friends' houses where she was uncomfortable and nervous, times when they’d bring hard drugs she wasn’t expecting or willing to experiment with. These situations made her far too nervous to contact her dad, fearing he’d just be angry with her. That’s where Uncle Price came in.

Of course, if she was ever hurt or in serious danger, he’d tell her parents straight away. But in these types of situations, he figures he’s helping her dodge a bullet. He knows how harsh Simon can be, and after all, she’s just a teen. At the end of the day, she’s safe, and that’s what matters.

“Thank you for calling me. Last thing we need is you driving like this, or driving with someone else like this.”

“Yeah…” Trailing off, she sighs. And in this small lull, John hears a familiar voice.

“Who -” He pauses, did he really just hear who he thought he heard?! “Who was that?!”

“Um… who?”

“You know who!”

“Is he coming?” The voice then says, and Charlotte is quick to hush him.

“Benjamin!” John shouts, eyes wide as he continues to drive. “You’re there too?!”

Handing the phone to her cousin, Benji gives the excuse of, “Had to look after her, da.”

“Yeah, right job you did there.” His father returns, nodding. “Anyone else I should know about?”

“Well… maybe.”

“Elsie! C’mon! Uncle John is almost here!”

Christ sake.

Groaning, John rubs the bridge of his nose. “You lot are out to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of fun!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rolling his eyes, he peers out the window while at a stop light.

Internally though, John is grinning. This entire situation is reminding him of his own memories, recalling the crazier nights of his youth. What an absolute shitshow, that was. And on top of that, he didn’t have the type of parents that could get him out of tough cracks, they just didn’t understand. He had to rely on himself. And now, he’s glad these kids can rely on him, too.

#cod fanfiction #Call of Duty fanficiton #Simon Riley #Simon “Ghost” Riley #John McTavish #John “Soap” McTavish #John Price #Captain John Price #Konig

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