#I need a knitting ghost in my life

[happyheidi]

don’t invite me unless these are the plans

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 4)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

7k words of a fever dream, happy Sunday, sinners ✨💦 I really hope you like it 🥺💖

You were back, unexpectedly but welcomed nonetheless. But now Alastor finds himself in a new kind of hell. There was, unfortunately for him, no killing what he felt when he looked at you.

{Warnings/Promises: Smut, Ace spectrum Alastor x FemReader, Alastor has feelings, creampie is the best nighttime snack, Angel is always the good guy, cervix punishment, mating press, Alastor demon form, Antlers go brrrr, drinking to forget, drowning (in cum)((and emotions)), discussions of murder, Alastor gets horny for discussions of murder, kinda breed kink if you squint, I saw a fan image of a hazbin hotel pool and it’s been stuck in my head for days.}

MINORS DNI (ah! Eh! I — stop. I see you. You know I see you, right? Get outta here! 🚨)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

You were quick to stifle your smile, seeing Alastor standing in front of you with his hand outstretched. Why were you smiling? You were dead. Brutally so. And, You were in hell. But the corners of your mouth kept tugging upward at the sight of the stupid fucking deer demon before you. His own wild smile, eyes half lidded as he looked at you like he knew you.

You took his hand, needing the help standing. He fingers slipped from your palm and came to rub the velvet skin of your—- ears? You smacked his hand away, taking a step back.

The look he gave you, confusion? You weren’t sure, his head cocked to the side, hand lingering a beat longer in the air. He took a step toward you and you took one back.

Alastor laughed, “Quite the welcome, dear.”

You narrowed your eyes, did he know? Did he know you dreamt of him so many nights? That you struggled daily to not see his face behind your eyelids, not hear his lilting voice in your ear?

“Long time no see, Alastor.” You didn’t mean to sound quite so bored when you said it, you weren’t really sure at all what was going on in your head. You didn’t expect to see him so soon, literally immediately upon your death. You didn’t have time to recalibrate the mixed up feelings you had created for yourself over this stranger.  

You pined for months to see him again, trying so hard to push the memory of him as deep as you could. So deep, in fact, you found yourself tortured at night with fantasies of his company. Even during the day, your life was altered around him. You couldn’t listen to the radio, the odd static and reverb just forcing him back into your consciousness. You took long forest walks, thinking about hunters and deer. You wore that fucking robe for an embarrassingly long time, remembering being in another world entirely.

Alastor’s face fell, throat closing slightly as he thought he realized what was happening. You didn’t remember the time you’d spent with him. He had been enjoying lazy nights in his room and pleasurable times in the woods with a ghost. He took a step closer, maybe if he— maybe your body would remember? If you just smelled his bed, perhaps you’d stop acting so cold. If he could awaken the impressions he was sure he left on your soul, he could pick up where he left off. A comfortable companion. Kind eyes that only saw him. His name, sweet and low tumbling from your lips.

You hit the wall with your back, making distance from him. He hadn’t hurt you, but you couldn’t be sure what would happen now. Fantasies are no indication of a person’s real self. Your dream romps were just that— dreams. Fiction your mind produced to fill the gap in your life he somehow created in your short time together. Imagination fleshing out this unknown demon you couldn’t stop thinking about. 

His hand fell. There was a second his smile dropped, brows knitted. It came and it went, “Well! I best go get Charlie. She is the official welcome committee of the Hazbin Hotel, after all. Follow me.” The door swung open, his long arm gesturing.

Charlie pulled you into a hug, bouncing between “Welcome back!” And “I am so, so sorry you died!” She held your hands in hers, “The hotel has gone through a lot since you left! I have so much to show you. While Alastor has your room b…” her voice carried on, but your mind stayed put. She did jazz hands at every sconce and door frame on the way to the lobby.

You had expected it, your death. You figured there was a 50/50 chance you didn’t make it out of that forest. But that didn’t make this moment any less surreal. You looked down at your body, yours but new. Your hands came to your head, fingers climbing up your skull until you found them. Two soft, tulip petal shaped ears. Were you going to be sick? The room began to spin. Charlie’s voice underwater. Was some detective going to knock on your parent’s door? Carrying a folder with your photo and bad news? Your eyes clenched at the image, your heart ballooning in your chest.

“Maybe she needs to take a rest,” his voice cut through the waters of your confusion, a spear straight to your psyche. His hand slipped up your arm, resting on your back. You shook your head, eyes blinking wildly. 

“It’s fine. Please, Charlie, continue your tour.” You took an exaggerated step to your left, out from under his touch. You thought you heard him sigh. Why was he being so kind? The last time you spoke you were staring daggers at him while he carried on about doing exactly what he had promised.

Charlie excitedly presented the lobby to you, the bar, the library. Alastor walked a few feet behind you both, quiet, his shadow dancing down the hallway in front of you. It’s mouth flipping from grin to grimace and back as it watched you nod along to every detail Charlie felt you should know.

The newest addition to the hotel since you left, a large indoor pool on the second to top floor. You lingered there, watching the water reflect pink and red light from the floor to ceiling windows overlooking Pentagram City.

“Almost done! To the left is Dad’s studio. He comes and goes. Ya know, parent stuff.”

You tried to mask your concern for whatever damaged parent-child relationship she was referencing.

“And to the right is Alastor’s radio station.”

You glanced to the demon, standing near the wall, inspecting his nails. “I didn’t know he had a radio station. I just assumed-,” You shrugged, “He just sounded like that.”

Alastor felt his bottom lid of his left eye twitch involuntarily. Why were you speaking like he wasn’t there?

He bit his tongue, literally. He needed time to think, to plan how to handle this situation. Your death was early and therefore unexpected for him, too. Not nearly as surprising, though, as your loss of memory of him.

He knew though, maybe this was for the best. If you were here, if he could see you around the hotel, perhaps that desire to have you near would die down. His shadow shifted behind him before sinking into the floor. Yes, exactly. This was a good thing. His eyes glanced to you, to your little doe features, two ears and a tiny fluff of a tail. His jaw tightened, had you done it on purpose? What did it mean?

”Would you like to see it?” He didn’t recognize his own voice, because he hadn’t realized he was going to say it until it was done.

Yes. “No thank you.” You wanted to run face first into the wall. It felt like your ribs were twisting off your spine. One side lurched up—- touch him. He wants you, he felt so good. Get him alone. The other side pulling down—- fuck him. He owns you, he’s a demon. Stay away from him.

His ears turned back and down, folding into his skull. You tried to keep your face neutral as you stared back at him, breathing teetering on panting. Every time you looked at him you were in danger of spilling your guts. 

“Well!” Charlie slid into the tense air between you two, nervous chuckles, “That makes sense! Because Al’s station is super off limits. So. Uhh where was I going with this.” She looked around, “Is the room ready, Al?”

He nodded, leading you both to the elevator and a few floors down. 

“This floor is for our more precious residents. Not that every soul isn’t precious! But ya knooow,” she opened your door, “You’ve got Angel, Husk, Niffty, sometimes Cherri Bomb, and Alastor as neighbors!”

Yippee. You get to lie awake knowing the object of your fucked desire is just past an easily smashed wall.

There was a moment where you all three looked at each other. Charlie becoming more and more fidgety as the seconds ticked on.

“Sooo, We should let her rest, like you said, right Alastor?” Charlie began a dramatic walk to the bedroom door, taking big steps with high knees.

You needed to do this and let it be. “Actually, may I have a moment, Alastor?”

Always, Yes. “I suppose I have the time, my dear.” He twirled his microphone stand before settling it behind his back. Charlie wanted to ask you if you were sure, but the tension was rising again. She backed out of the room, pulling the door closed as she went.

Alone. Again. There was a feeling in the air, like you would either fuck or fight. Was it an animal thing? Or was it always there?

“I never got to thank you.”

His stomach turned, he couldn’t bear this again. Please, stop thanking him. Smile straining, struggling to keep it together, he nodded, “Whatever for?”

You had a strange feeling, a familiarity to the conversation. Ah, that was right. Would this end the same way as your dream? With you on your back? “You were — true to your word.” You fiddled with the comforter of the bed, avoiding looking at him. “You were gentle and you got me home safe and sound. I didn’t thank you. I was just so-,”

“Full of misplaced rage?” His head tilted to the left, eyebrows high.

“Just rage, would have been fine. It was an unfair situation that you helped get me out of.”

Alastor watched your face, only sadness to be found. Not a sight he took any pleasure in. “Well you should truly thank Angel Dust. He is the one who brought me to you, desperate to help you. Even offered me his soul! Not that it’s his to give.”

No one had told you. “Oh,” genuine surprise, “Thank you for that. Yeah, I have to thank him. I’d probably still be in Valentino’s—,” the light of the lamp beside the bed flickered, “studio.”

Looking at you, Alastor couldn’t decipher the feeling in his chest. Relief, sure. Shock, yes. But behind that, a strange tugging beneath his sternum. A pain, vague and nebulous floating over his chest. Why did you come back so soon? Why did you die so early? He wanted to ask you so many things, but if you didn’t retain any memory of your time with him, he doubted he would like the answers.

“I’m going to finish my mental breakdown now, thanks for the tour and uh, the information.” Scratching awkwardly at your arm, you went and opened the door. He paused a moment before moving. “I would like to see your radio station, sometime. If you’d want to show me.” He nodded and left. The room felt colder now, deader.

Your night went exactly how you anticipated, lying awake in the plush red blankets of your new home staring at the ceiling. You wondered if you slept, if you’d see him again. Thoughts of the overworld, family, connections. Little fits of rest came but nothing more than 30 minutes here and there. 

Alastor paced his room until dawn, an animal in an unlocked cage. When you had appeared, dead and truly in hell, he thought you’d come to see him. He was embarrassed to even think it now, he had believed you wanted to be with him in earnest.  As comfortable with his company as he was yours. He cradled his head, again he felt himself succumbing to the enjoyment of others. He had accepted it with you, more so than the rest, and now it was a weapon in your hands. He felt like an idiot. And he hated it. What a fool, to think you’d died to get home to him. A growl rising in his chest. Home. He desperately wanted to see Rosie, to vent the situation and find clarity. But the idea of leaving you alone in the hotel irked him. He couldn’t put his finger on why. Maybe you wouldn’t be here when he returned. He could always summon you with your connection to him, but he wanted you to be there, with him, of your own volition or he didn’t want it at all.

If you’d forgotten entirely, he had two courses of action. To start over, or to let it die. 

He looked to his bed, remembering you lying there. Sleeping, peaceful, content. Safe. Alastor turned to the wall, knowing you lied just beyond the wallpaper and sheet rock in your own deathbed, alone. The out of place physical need for you was something he struggled with, but whatever feeling this was — far worse. You were his, yet he couldn’t have you. Couldn’t possess you in the ways he’d grown accustomed to the past year. Starting over felt tedious. But this wasn’t a feeling that would die, he knew that. He could feel that by how deep the roots of his despair sunk into his soul when you looked at him like a stranger. 

He didn’t rest that night, and neither did you.

Maybe it was the deal, the connection between you and him, but no matter where you were in the hotel you could feel him. A sixth sense, his presence always on your radar. A small part of your brain power was always on him, focused on the idea of Alastor. You wandered the halls until the others woke, feeling that little string between the two of you. Taut, strong.

When you found Angel that first morning back, you took a seat beside him in the lobby. 

“Alastor told me you are why I got help. From Valentino.” You tried your best to maintain eye contact, not getting distracted by his arms.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart. I kinda did it for myself, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep again if I just let it happen. I’m a freak but I ain’t sick in the head like Val.” He locked his phone, turning to you, “So do you always start passin’ out mid-convo or does Charlie’s voice just do something to ya?” 

You groaned, “Did she tell you that?”

“Well she panic-sang it, real worried about you. Did you get settled in yesterday?”

“I didn’t sleep, now that you mention it.” Angel laughed, taking you by surprise, “What?”

“Oh I’m sure you didn’t. Not with your co-star next door.” He winked, “I’m sure you’re happy to be here in the flesh.”

“Ugh I forgot about that. Did -,”

“Everyone see it? Yeah you’re a minor celebrity.” You took a throw pillow and screamed into it while he spoke, “But hey! At least you don’t gotta worry about crazy fans. Smiles will keep ‘em at bay.”

“Why would he do anything for me?” Pillow still over your face, you groaned, “I’m just a soul on his roster.”

“Ha I don’t think he treats just any soul the way he’s been treatin’ you. I think Husk would tell me.” Angel kicked his feet, “What a mental image! Does he have pubes? I feel like he does but they’re like, sharp? Like hostile somehow?”

Pillow down, “Ew, Angel! Hostile? How the fuck would I know?”

Angel stopped, wide eyed, “Oh is it a secret? Is that part of the deal?” A sinister giggle, “You can tell ole’ Angel Dust. We’re pals, remember? You technically owe me.” His many fingers poked at your sides, goading you.

You scrunched up your nose, swatting at his hands, “Angel, what are you talking about?”

His smile fell, now side eyeing you, he opened his mouth to ask you to stop playing coy when he heard you all those nights in Alastor’s room when Charlie burst into the lobby. 

“I am so sorry! I didn’t tell you about the redemption activities!” She tossed papers onto the coffee table, “Alright, plan Stairway to Heaven!”

Angel sat back, bored the juicy gossip had to wait, your attention fully occupied by Charlie’s sketches.

Alastor watched you from the second floor balcony. Over the next few days he would always be watching, either from the shadows or out in the open. Looking at you, that carnal hunger was gone. He felt no overpowering desire to be surrounded by you. But, now and then, you’d make a small noise or sigh and he would feel a little twitch. A muscle memory reaction to you

Where the need to touch you had faded, he instead found an insatiable hunger to be near you. He had thought it would be better, you at the hotel. But it had become worse. The further you were, the more undone he felt. It baffled him. So, he stayed near. You were almost always within earshot or eye sight. If not, he at least knew where you were. He could focus on the hotel and his plans for Charlie only then. 

You never looked at him, it was obviously on purpose. Even when he would take a seat beside you or across from you, you’d manage to glance everywhere but directly at Alastor. By the fourth day, he felt like he was going to snap. It was beginning to feel disrespectful. 

That fourth night when you again couldn’t sleep, you found yourself at the edge of the pool. Did people in hell swim? You’d been there for nearly two hours and not a single sinner appeared. It was well past midnight, though.

The entire room was tinged pink, shadows a pretty red. The water itself looked like a sea of rose quartz. You didn’t have a bathing suit. You didn’t have anything now that you thought about it. Nevertheless, you slipped into the water and let yourself float from the edge.

What a familiar feeling, floating. The ceiling shimmered with the water’s ever-moving reflection. Mind reeling back to the green glow casting your shadow on the ceiling of Valentino’s studio. You closed your eyes, you were always sinking it seemed. Sinking out of consciousness, into a another dream, out of the woods and into the bedroom of your captivator. The only times you felt weightless— ah, right. Body held up by shadows, cameras rolling. Under him, beneath the stars, sleeping form disconnected from your mind. It was always with him. You wondered for a second if you could sleep like this. What would happen if you drowned. Could you drown?

The carpet soaked with every step you took, your body sopping wet, clothes heavy with pool water. You were dragging your bare feet to the elevator when you saw a light coming from the ajar door to Alastor’s radio studio. 

He was looking over papers, monocle resting on his cheek. Alastor turned to you, taking note of your shoes in your hand and wet hair. Your ears were heavy with water, fine fur drooping with the weight. “You look like a drowned rat, my doe.”

“Don’t call me that,” you wiped your hair from your face, “I can’t sleep.”

You never struggled to sleep in his bed. “What did you do when you couldn’t sleep on earth?”

Your life already felt far in the rearview, either the effects of sleep exhaustion or your time in the underworld, “I slept… really well. Not a sleepless night I can remember.”

Alastor only hummed a response. Because all of your sleepless nights were here, with him. 

“Why are you working?”

“Why are you swimming?”

“I just told you.” Your brows knitted, was this a conversation or a riddle.

Ever present smile beamed back at you, “Well then take a guess!”

You stared at him, sitting at his curved desk with all his switches and buttons. Papers here and there. Just smiling at you. “Cool, thanks for the waste of time.” You turned to leave when you heard a low sound coming from his chest.

“Why do you speak to me like that? Avoid me?” He stood, hair sharp and standing at attention, “What have I done to you to deserve your disgust?”

“Nothing! That’s-,” the problem, “I’m just tired. I don’t feel right, like I misplaced something. There’s a nagging feeling, maybe something I forgot in the overworld.”

Alastor closed the gap between you two, “I can assure you everything you need is here.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah. Of course.” Turning to leave, his clawed hand reached for your wrist. Pulling you back, your wet clothes were now soaking into his suit.

His free hand took your chin and made you look up at him. Alastor’s red and pink eyes stared into yours, grin wider than you remembered seeing it before. You fixed your gaze on the desk behind him. “Look at me.” His voice cracked with a static interference. Your eyes finally came to his, your hand now holding his wrist just below your chin. “Don’t you dare look away.” He saw it, a flash of recognition flit across your now wide eyes. There was a pulse of electricity to your core, your body remembering his voice, those words, like an activation phrase. How did he know? Your thighs rubbed together, feet barely touching the ground as he held you close.

When his lips crashed into yours, you melted for a moment. Your body relaxed into him, a small whine slipping from your mouth to his. But then something in you snapped back, remembering he was a stranger holding your leash. You pulled his hand from your face with ease as your feet came back to the ground. Tugging your wrist free, you opened your mouth to yell at him, nothing but heavy breathing came out. Again, he reduced you to speechlessness. You glanced at his face before turning; he looked wounded.

You thought you heard his shoes shuffling along the carpet as you rushed into the elevator. A bang, a thrash, echoing down the elevator shaft as you descended to your floor. 

Did he think because you acquiesced to sex before, somewhat under the pressure of a worse fate, he could just kiss you anytime he wanted? Did he see you as a toy? 

Maybe being a toy would be nice. Maybe a good fuck would let you finally sleep. He did hit all the right places, those shadowy appendages never letting a single need go ignored…

You slammed your door shut, angrily peeling off your clothes. No, you weren’t a possession. You weren’t an object to be taken off the shelf at his convenience. No matter how much your body ached for his clawed hands and thin waist, you wouldn’t lower yourself to being under him. Not metaphorically, therefore not physically. You curled onto your bed, naked, body humming for him. Sleep came in pieces, fractured moments of rest.

“You look like shit.” Angel greeted you when the sun finally rose and everyone mulled around the hotel. You waited until you were sure the lobby bar wouldn’t be empty, you didn’t want to run into him alone. 

“How do you fucking sleep in this place? All night just screams and moans from the city.” You rested your cheek on the bar, “Husk, something with orange juice that’ll make me forget where I am, please.”

“The moans are my favorite. Speaking of moanin’ in the night-,” Angel was cut off.

“Get used to it. You sold your soul to a psychotic dick. Welcome to the club,” Husk’s tone was harsh, tilting into sardonic as he slid your drink to you.

With a huff, you sat up, “Don’t compare us. You sold your soul. I—,” you searched with your hands for the word, “was guilty of having a colossal cunt of an aunt.” A deep sip of your drink, “Fuck, he only got my soul because he made a deal with a different demon for it. Soul traded in like a used car. I’m the Kia Sorento of hell.”

Husk grumbled, “Yeah well, either way. Might as well get comfortable. We’re here for the long haul.”

Angel put a hand out to shut up Husk, scooting his stool closer to you, “So like— did Mister Wrong-Kinda-Horny have you killed?” His eyes went to your ears and back, “Is that why ya came back a little lady deer? Some kinda sex thing?”

You downed your drink and gestured to Husk to refill your glass, speaking to Angel without looking at him, “Why would he do that?

He grabbed your bar stool and swivelled you to face him, leaning in even closer, “Well, ya know…” his eyebrows raised up and down, ready to finally get the dirty details, “because ya-,”

“My little doe, just who I was looking for.” His sudden appearance startled all three of you. He was ready now, to pin down your fate. Were you going to stay at the hotel permanently or not? With his supervision or without?

“Why does everyone keep interruptin’ me?!” Angel slammed his hand on the bar.

On impulse, your own hand formed a first, “Stop calling me that!”

Alastor laughed, unhinged, a finger wiping a tear from his eye. Still, the attitude with which you spoke to him surprised him, “Oh? Why should I? You are a doe,” his microphone gestured to your head, “And your soul belongs to me. If I remember correctly, so does your body.” His eyes darkened, back bent as he came to your eye level, “But I always have video evidence if you’re unsure of the details.” 

You lifted your glass and cocked your arm back to throw it but stopped. Alastor was grinning, something in his stare egging you on. He was loving this. Finally you were paying some attention to him. You were looking right at him.

Setting the glass back down, you left your stool and slipped past him, “Lucky for you, radio demon. It’s all you have anymore.” You had decided you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying his name.

Husk sunk beneath the bar, Alastor’s antlers expanding as his eyes became overtaken with black. Angel scrambled over the counter to join the cowering bartender. Alastor whipped around, spine cracking and stretching. You were in the elevator for another quick escape when you turned and saw him gaining on you, his mouth nearly unhinged, teeth sharp and numerous. His body contorted to get his truly demonic face in your eye line, back bending in half to drop his head down, “What did you say?” The air around him seemed to bend and shake, the hiss of a misaligned radio station biting at your skin.

Your finger was shaking as you pressed the ‘close door’ button repeatedly, wetting your lips you found your foothold in anger again, “Fuck you.”

You didn’t recognize the sounds you heard just past the hollow elevator doors. Something between a screech and a wail. Not a sound you’d heard any deer make before.

Shakey knees and legs melting to jelly barely carried you to your room. You collapsed against the door as soon as you entered, locking it. Not that it mattered, you knew that.

A knock shook the wood and made you yelp.

“It’s me!” You recognized Angel’s voice, “Let me in.”

He fell into your room, hair a mess and eyes wide, “I don’t know where he went but he left the hotel. Jesus Christ you have balls of steel.” He fixed his hair, adjusting his chest fluff, “Or are a total idiot.” He saw the tears swelling in your eyes, gears shifting immediately, “Oh shit, sorry. You okay?”

You shook your head no and crumbled to the floor, “I haven’t fucking slept more than three hours a night in like, five fucking days. I’m going crazy.”

“I don’t know why ya’ll are fightin’ but can’t Alastor help you out? Ya’ll are close, maybe a night in his bed will set you straight.”

Your tears streamed down your face, “Angel! What are you talking about?! You keep saying shit like we’re friends. The closest I’ve been to him was in my fucking wet dreams!” You curled into the fetal position on the carpet, exhausted, scared, confused. You’d never seen something as skin-crawling as his full demonic form. But a part of you was mesmerised by the transformation. A sick part of you, you decided.

Angel lied down beside you, facing you, eyes blinking. One of his hands wiped at your tears, “What exactly happened after you went home?” 

You sniffled, “I couldn’t get him out of my head. I wore your robe. It smelled like you.” 

He laughed, “I wondered where that thing went.”

“I started having these dreams, just—- really fucked dreams of him.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, “fucked how?”

Your wanted to hide your face but didn’t have the energy to move your arms, “He fucked me in the woods like his life depended on it. Best sex of my life, in my own imagination. Naturally.”

Angel sat up, he didn’t know what to ask first, “best sex?? Sorry- no. Fuck, uh, you had dreams about fucking the Radio Demon? You two never… met up?”

You rolled onto your back, shaking your head, “If he could have visited me, he never did. Trust me, I looked for any sign.”

“Uh huuuuh.” Angel nodded, “Well. His extra weird attitude makes more sense. He’s been super creepy, always just popping’ outta shadows and shit. More than usual.”

Angel looked over you, crying softly on the floor. He considered telling you, but if Alastor hadn’t he figured it was best he stay out of it. Lest he be the one fleeing into elevators.

“Have ya considered actually fucking him?” Angel couldn’t believe he was recommending anyone fuck Alastor, but it seemed like maybe it’d actually do you good.

“Why would I do that?”

Angel looked annoyed, “Because you wanna fuck him?! Get it out of our system?”

“Yes and I sometimes wonder what it would be like to drive into oncoming traffic. We all have the call of the void. He—,” you thought about the kiss, “I feel like it’d just make it worse. I’d want more.”

Angel showed you his phone, “He’s apparently eating sinners in the doom district, so, it’s your call. But maybe a good bang would get you both to chill out.” He scrolled, “Fucking hell. The best sex, of your life? Have you not had much sex or-?”

You crawled up to your bed and plopped your now heavy body down, “Angel.”

“Do you have some weird kink? Is it just really big?”

“Angel!”

“Does he go full demon and his peni-,”

“ANGEL.”

He spun his head around to look at you, “I wanna respect your boundaries but I will actually die again if you don’t explain this shit to me.”

Settling back, you groaned, “I’ve never felt so needed before. He held onto me like he couldn’t breath unless I was under him. But you see him, you’ve been here. Does that sound like him?”

Angel sat beside you, “Honestly didn’t know he knew what sex was until you came here so” he leaned back, two arms holding him up, “You guys are pretty fucked up.” You nodded. “What did he say, when you told him about the dreams?”

“Didn’t really come up.” You rolled your eyes.

He patted your thigh, “Got it. You’re gonna owe me like, a metric shit ton of drugs.” Angel pushed off the bed, waving as he left, “I’ll see ya tomorrow!” 

You sat up, staring curiously at where he had just been. Tomorrow? It was only 9am

.

Angel spent several hours in the lobby, pretending to read and socialize with residents. He jumped from the chaise lounge as soon as he saw Alastor walking into the hotel, “Hey uh, I know you know I think you’re a freaky fuck, but I wanna just say it sucks real bad and I’m sorry.” Alastor didn’t reply or even stop walking, Angel having to jog to keep pace.

“I mean, if my fuck buddy thought our bumpin’ uglies was all just dreams I’d be super fuckin’ bummed too.” Alastor became so still so quickly that Angel nearly fell over trying to stop his momentum. He waved his hand in front of Alastor’s face to make sure he was still conscious, “uhh anyone home in there?”

Alastor’s eyes flicked to dials, residents looking up warily as the power flickered and the space seemed to distort around them, “Explain, quickly.”

“She told me this mornin’! She thinks all those nights you were bangin’ her brains out — which, from one porn star to another, sounded top notch from my room — we’re just horny dreams. She’s all fucked in the head about it.”

Alastor melted into his shadow and slinked down the hall and up the walls, leaving Angel behind, “You all owe me!”

You heard footsteps suddenly advancing on you down the hall. Spinning around, your nose nearly brushed against his, Alastor’s face already down to your level.

He leaned in to you, his mouth hitting against your cheek, “I need to speak to you in my room, dear.” His voice was clearly not asking you. 

Your blood ran cold, goosebumps dancing down your neck and arms. “Why would-,”

“Now.” His arms wrapped around your waist, you pushed him away and turned to walk off but stopped. You weren’t in the hallway anymore. A bedroom. With a haughty laugh you turned to spit venom at him for such a dirty trick.

 As if expecting it, he cut you off, “They weren’t dreams, my doe. It was astral projection.” He took you by the shoulders and pointed your entire body at the forest scene melting into his room. Had it always been there? You couldn’t remember seeing it before, when you arrived in hell. Just him and his smile.

You felt the blush rise from your toes to your ear tips. Both hands came to your face, desperate to hide your existence from the situation.

You remembered that grassy clearing, the tree line. Peaking in and up, you saw the starry sky you spent so many nights moaning into.

“Why-,” your hands balled into fists, “didn’t you tell me?!” You turned to him, face red. You wanted to shove him, to hit him, but your mother taught you better than to lay hands on someone first. You finished fights, not started them.

Alastor smiled down at you, like he always did, “I thought you had no memory of our-,”

You cut off him off at the head, “visits.”

He laughed, “spirited visits.” Was that a pun? You groaned.

“I, I thought it was just make believe.” The gentle touches, the sweet names whispered into your skin, the way you could taste him even after you woke. The blush burned your cheeks.

Now that you knew, now that your eyes fell on him once again with recognition, he felt you’d actually answer him, “How did you die?” 

The question took you by surprise, You thought it was obvious, “I tried to kill a hunter in the woods. Well, I did kill him. But he killed me, too.”

A genuine grin spread across his lips, a cackle, “You killed a man?!” You shouldn’t have been so proud, but he looked so impressed, “Tell me every detail. Who was he to you?” Alastor’s hands came to your arms. You remembered last night, pulse quickening, and walked to his bed. You took a seat on the end, sinking softly into the plush blankets. Your hand ran over the fabric. 

“My employee’s father.” The fabric was soft, the threads tiny and tight.

Alastor took a seat beside you, legs crossed, “Oh? And why him?”

A hum, “He was a bad man.”

His hand picked up yours, bringing it to his mouth. There was that loss of blood to his brain, something you effortlessly did to him. “Who says?” His own heart picking up pace. You killed. Was it egotistical to think you inspired such a thing? Did you kill for him?

You watched your fingers tremble under his lips, “What?”

“Who says he was bad?”

Your eyes searched the room for an answer, “I think anyone would agree with me.”

His smile reached his eyes, “So you decided? He probably thought he was quite alright.” He turned your wrist over, mouth pressing to your pulse point. “Did you plan it?” Your scent was familiar but different now. Skin still just as soft. He felt himself salivate. Your spell just as strong in death. 

A gulp, all of those walls you struggled to keep standing turned to dust against his smirk. A stranger, a lover. Effortlessly your body shifted into a new gear under his touch. “Yeah, for a week. I waited until I knew he was going to be there. Walked the paths, bought a knife.”

“A knife,” he practically purred, “A favorite. No gun?” He pulled your arm toward him, bringing your whole body into his.

“I wanted something more… personal.”

Alastor buckled slightly, cock jumping in his lap. “You were made to be my undoing. I am sure of it. A cruel joke from heaven to distract me.” His mouth found your neck next, little nips before he chose a place and latched, sucking a bruise easily seen by others.

“This is a really fucked conversation, Alastor.” Your body softened, a small sigh coming before you could consider being embarrassed.

“For a ‘fucked’ situation, my dear.” His nose traced along your jaw. “But one you’ll find I quite enjoy.” He placed your hand on his lap. Did he see the face you made? The stupid grin? Your hand squeezed lightly on the length you felt tenting his pants, earning a moan into your cheek. Real. He was real. In your hands, now. No dreams or projection. No fantasies. No little pink toy. “Bear with me, just a little more. You’ll find my … proclivity for such topics quite important for these kinds activities.”

“You’re sick.” You turned, nose to nose smiling still.

He hummed, his own smile spreading, “desperately so.” Your hand gently traced the shape of him through his pants, “Why did you kill him? As opposed to all the other bad men?”

A question you didn’t feel you could answer, “This topic is having the opposite effect on me…” you squeezed him again.

“Fair enough,” he pushed you back onto the bed, leg going over your body to straddle you, “Then tell me how you felt? A compromise.”

How did you feel? When you killed him? “I felt strong.” He repositioned himself between your legs, “I wasn’t scared. I knew I’d succeed or-,”

“Or?” His breathing now a barely strained pant. Say it. Say it and he’ll let himself go completely.

You focused on the canopy of his bed, a red wine color much like his own coat. “Or I’d end up here, with you.” His head fell, forehead resting on your stomach. You looked down to see his antlers larger than before, no longer cute little prongs. “Alastor?”

He wasn’t an idiot. 

Maybe a little roundabout, but you chose him. 

Red dribbled from his chin, mind going foggy as eyes went black. His hands rid you of your clothes with delicate cuts, your body lurched up the bed by wide palms. 

You chose to come back. 

Your hands came down to undo his pants and belt, seeing he probably couldn’t manage himself. As soon as he was free of his clothes, he was rutting into your thigh. “Alastor”, you took his face in both hands, dials flickers to dilated pupils as you got him to focus on you. 

“My little doe.”

You came home.

His head came to rest just above yours, wide and sharp antlers just out of reach. His leaking cock finally found your core, Alastor groaning into the blankets to find you already so wet. Your hands gripped his arms, nails breaking skin in anticipation.

Lined up and impatient, he pushed up into you with unmeasured force. You bit onto the flesh of his shoulder, trying to keep yourself from screaming. In those dreamlike visits, he filled you so perfectly, body molding to him. But now, you were stuffed. With one thrust your cervix was bruised and tender. The tiniest pain bled into the eye-rolling pleasure of having him back in you. With heavy breaths he thrust into you with a need you couldn’t ever remember feeling before. He fucked you like he would die without your moans spilling across his chest. 

And it was true, feeling your soft cunt clenching him so tightly was a need more than anything else. A ray of light at the bottom of the Mariana’s trench. Impossible, and undeserved. You were everything he wasn't good enough to have, wasn’t clean enough of conscience to hold. An angel clipping a wing to dip into hell, you killed to sink back into his arms. Even if you didn’t say it, not yet. He could feel it in you. He had left a deeper impression on your soul than perhaps you had his. You weren’t just his by way of a deal, you corrupted yourself to his level.

He looked down at you, your eyes already wet and unfocused, mouth hanging open as every breath turned into rhythmic moans. Your soul a fresh snowfall, your adoration for him a drop of blood. His eyes shut, mind focused on where you and him merged now. Friction pulling him forward to his climax.

Your body was trembling, his lower stomach rubbing against your already swollen clit. That soft button just past your entrance wasn’t just being pressed, it was smashed against your walls with his shaft. His head dragging past it. You wanted to speak, to express how good you felt, but your tongue was frozen in your mouth. Every inhale became a gasp, every exhale was now a moan. You felt his body tighten, thrusts become shallow as his large head refused to stray far from your womb. Silently, your hands tore into his shoulders as you gripped through your orgasm. The muscles in your jaw now locked. Your legs came to wrap around his hips and draw him in, thighs convulsing as his pace didn’t stop for you to recover.

With an unmistakable mating press, his cock buried itself in your pussy. Balls deep suddenly made more sense as a phrase. Your cervix stung as his body forced more room for itself in you. The way your walls spasmed around him felt debauched, your body starved for him. Hungry as he had been. Alastor felt your soft cunt drowning in his seed and he groaned into your hair. Already spilling out, he didn’t even consider unsheathing himself from you.

You struggled to slow your heart rate, vision blocked entirely with his own heaving chest. As he softened in you, so did his form. Body reconfiguring above you, antlers now small and uncharacteristically cute.

With regained red eyes, he looked at your face. 

“Are you-,” he sighed, “Asleep.” Not a bad future after all, he mused. Watching you sleep. 

He considered wiping you down before placing you beneath his blanket, but it seemed like such a waste. Your head on his pillow, he felt everything in his chest settle. Like a puzzle whose pieces were all right but just not flush, his own damned soul settled flat. Everything snuggly in place. 

One of his large palms came to rest on your head, a familiar place for him now, “Sleep well, darling doe. I’ll be here when you wake.” 

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult: @nonetheartist , fizzled-phoenix , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @fjorjestertealeaf , @pansexual-opera-house , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @roxxie-wolf , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @phobophobular , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @surusurusuru , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1

🎞️ TRDFAHS VHS owners: @leathesimp , @alastors-staff, @howabouticallyou , @myrunawaysweets , @karmakillz , @serendipitous-fernweh , @universal-s1ut , @anuttellaa , @sillyb0nez , @nonamevenus , @fairyv-ice , @nitnat6245 , @alicehasdrowned , @alicebaskervilleposts , @jyoongim , @lunaramune , @christinebloodwrittings , @itszzmoon , @thekanrojimitsuri2 ,

@luna-usagi-chan

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

[moonlight1110]

Crawling back to you

ex-boyfriend!Ghost x Reader ; (Late) Valentines Special ;)

Your ex-boyfriend who comes banging at your door in the middle of the night. He desperately wants you back, and when he invites himself in, is there really nothing else you can do?

Tags: afab!reader, p in v, smut, nsfw, vaginal sex, rough sex (kinda idk), mating press, pathetic!Simon, far from canon simon, i write with badjhur's voice in my ear, not propfread, proofread anyway BC I hate typos

Notes: planned on writing something for valentines but uni fucked me sideways so im posting today <3

"What the hell..." You jump as three hard knocks come from your door, almost as if the person on the other side was just a second away from breaking it down.

You didn't need to go through your mental library to know who it was, you knew exactly who was at your door at this ungodly hour because who else in their right mind would show up uninvited except him.

With a grunt, you roll off of bed and trudge to your front door. A heavy feeling pressing down on your chest as you got closer and closer to the door, you contemplated if opening it was even a good option, but knowing who was on the other side, choosing to ignore him was going to be a poor decision on your part.

With an tired sigh, you grabbed the door knob, squeezing it as doubts ran through your mind, but you are snapped out of it when he knocks, even harder than before.

"What are you doing?!" You ask, trying not to scream at him to avoid receiving another noise complaint from your overbearing neighbors when you opened the door slightly to peek out the small crack of it. Standing on the other side was someone you knew all too well.

"Let me in" his voice was low as he looked down at you, dark eyes staring at you from the opening of his balaclava. "Please..." He took a step forward, placing a hand on your door, but you stayed firm. "Simon, you can't just come here in the middle of the night and expect me to let you in" you argued, hardening the hand that was holding your door.

"I miss you, baby, come on..." He pushed the door slightly, you knew you wouldn't stand a chance even if you tried your hardest to shut the door. With how strong and large Simon was, trying to fight back against him was next to impossible.

"Simon, please..." You looked at him, brows furrowing. However, even at your attempts to stand by your decision, there was a part of you that wanted him to just push your door open... An unexplainable feeling, you thought.

"Take me back... I'll do anything" He sounded desperate, his voice sounded unlike the person you thought you knew, he sounded hurt, vulnerable, not like the usual stone cold and stoic Ghost you knew.

"You broke up with me remember... You can't just go back on that when you want to" your expression hardened in contrast to his which softened as he looked into your eyes. He regretted it, deeply.

"I did, I know that but I didn't know I would be making the biggest mistake of my life, love..." He steps closer, pushing your door open just a bit again. "Don't call me that... Just don't" you shake your head in disapproval but that small part of you just misses the way he called you that, how it rolled off his tongue like honey, you missed it.

"Just let me in, let's talk... I miss you" the last part comes out as a mumbled plea as he pushes your door open finally, stepping inside like he never left. Those three words just made you want to jump over the boundaries you so desperately tried to build up, but all you could do was step aside and let him in, there was no point in fighting him.

"What's there left to talk about, Simon?" You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as Simon removed his shoes, it looked so familiar next to yours...

"I want you back, I can't fuckin' live without you..." His brows knit together as he looks down at you, reaching out but you step back with a disapproving look. "Then why did you end it in the first place if you were just gonna come back to me anyway..." Your hands fall to your sides with a defeated sigh leaving your lips.

"I told you, it was the distance, my work... I thought breaking up with you would be the best choice for the both f'us..." Ignoring your attempts at creating space between you, he steps closer, caging you between his arms as he leaned against the wall, effectively trapping you under him.

"I was wrong, baby... So fuckin' wrong..." he whispered, his eyes silently pleading for your to just listen. He leaned forward so close you could feel his hot breath even through the fabric of his balaclava.

"I didn't even want to leave you..." You started, your face scrunching as you remembered the events that happened the day he cut things off between the two of you. "You made up so many reasons, so many excuses... You put words in my mouth..." You looked away, feeling your chest tighten again at the recollection of your memories together. It hurt to bring up and remember but with seeing Simon standing in front of you again, it was impossible to push those thoughts away.

"I know, I know..." He took your chin inbetween his index and thumb, willing you to look back at him. His expression was one of guilt and desperation, that much was clear with the way he was looking at you.

"But I can't stand another day without you, been regretting that decision every fuckin' day, love..." He leans in, snaking a hand around your waist. You want to pull away, to push him off and tell him to fuck off from you forever but you don't, you just cant find it in you to push him away when all you wanted was to be with him.

"Those months away from you felt like an eternity, don't wanna feel that anymore..." He pulls you closer, holding you tightly against his chest with his nose now inhaling the scent of your hair from the crook of your neck.

"We can't... This is the type of shit that complicates things, Simon..." you place your hands on his chest as if you even wanna push him off you. "I don't care..." He groans and pulls his balaclava off, breathing against your neck. It makes you squirm the way his hands are travelling down now, you missed it more than you were willingly to openly admit to him anyway, but that's no issue for how your body is responding.

"Fuck if it means we'll get complicated, I need you back..." He kisses at your neck, still familiar with all the spots that just made you melt. "Can't be away from you for another fuckin' day, baby..." He groans, pinning you against the wall by your hips, grinding a knee to your clothed cunt.

"Just say the word and I'll leave..." He groans, giving your throat a good lick all the way to your collarbone as his hands found your ass, kneading like he owned it. "I'll leave and I'll never come back, I won't bother you... But y'need to tell me..." His lips drag along your shoulder as he pulls you closer on his thigh, "Tell me... Tell me y'never wanna see me again, push me away..." He mumbles against the side of your neck.

Your breath hitches in your throat with the way he was talking to you, you knew Simon was a man who was true to his word and once you'd tell him to leave, he would.

"C'mon..." he retracts from your neck and pulls back to look you in the eyes, his brows are furrowed and his eyes are blown out as his eyes flicker over your features like he's trying to memorize every single detail before you told him to leave.

"I..." you scramble to find the words, you wanna tell him to leave but you also want him to stay, you two didn't even end on that much of a bad note, it was a misunderstanding, a poor decision which was made in the heat of the moment...

"Don't leave..." You give in to your emotions, just seeing Simon again after your breakup hurt like hell, but god would you curse yourself if you allowed him to leave again... You couldn't take that, seeing him walk out again, leaving you for the second time.

"Fuck..." He groans as he connects your lips, his hands are pulling at you and pinning you against the wall. It's a passionate and desperate kiss from him, which you return with your own, full of want and the same desperation you craved would be quenched for such a long time. No one did it like him, no one ever loved you like Simon Riley ever did.

Your arms find his neck as your head tilts, allowing Simon to push his tongue past your lips. He doesn't let up, doesn't get up for air, he just fucking wants you, wants to take you right then and there with how much he misses you.

His hands cup your ass as he lifts you up against the all and you wrap your legs around his torso as he finally pulls away from the kiss. "I need you, baby... Fuckin' missed you too much..." he practically growled as he sucked on your neck, walking to your bedroom.

"Simon, calm down..." You mumbled as he set you down on the bed, you could feel how rapidly his heart was beating but that only made him chuckle. "Can't calm down when I have you in my arms again, love" He stared down at you as he leaned back up, removing his shirt quickly.

"Missed you so much..." He whispered against your ear when he dove back down, making space for himself between your legs as he hovered on top of you with his arms on either side of your head. "Missed the way you feel around me..." He hummed while his hands trailed down your waist, to your hips, then just above the hem of your flimsy sleeping shorts.

"Did y'think 'bout me too? hm?" he asked, pressing a kiss to your jaw as his hand travelled under your shorts, his middle finger now circling on your wet clit through your panties. You didn't notice how you ruined your underwear until you felt how slick and uncomfortable it was when Simon pressed harder against your clit.

"Yeah... I did..." you whispered breathily, back arching at the feeling of Simon's thick fingers pleasuring you. He smirks, taking the opportunity to kiss and suck at your neck. "Mmm... Yeah?" He chuckles against your throat, parting your slick covered panties to the side to finally tease at your wet pussy.

"Fuck baby... She missed me didn't she?" he laughs, looking down at the way his hand moved from under your shorts. "Fuckin' pussy missed me too, huh?" He chuckles, as he pushes his thick finger inside you, making you gasp and grip at his arm.

"Simon!" you shut your eyes, back arching as he pressed gentle kisses against your throat. "Relax baby... need to prepare you again, been too long since I've fucked this pretty little pussy..." He coos, adding another finger to stretch you out, curling them so deliciously inside you.

"Fuck... I-" you whimper, sucking in a breath as he finds that spot inside you that just makes you break, he still knows of course, knows every single spot and every single way to make you crumble and submit to him. "I'm gonna cum, Si..." You whisper breathlessly, hands shaking around Simon's arm weakly.

Simon doesn't say anything except give you a cruel chuckle when he waits for the perfect time, just when you're about to cum to take his fingers out and it makes you shoot him a nasty glare. "Why did you do that?!" You whined, but your voice weakens at the sight of the hard bulge under his pants.

"Don't want you cummin' on anything but my cock tonight, love..." he chuckles dangerously, sitting on his knees to unbuckle his pants. He looks down at you with a hunger in his eyes, licking his lips as he finally rolls the zipper down. "C'mon, don't just stare" He smirks, snapping you out of your trance. "Right..." you blink, moving closer to him.

"Good..." he praises as he watches you tug his pants and boxers down together and tossing it down the side of the bed. "Fuck..." He hisses when he's finally free, his dick rock hard and heavy, twitching as beads of precum roll down from the tip. Your breathing quickens when you see it, it's bigger than you remember, thick and running with veins you wish you could memorize.

"On your back..." Simon commands, his voice low as he wraps a hand around his shaft to stroke his dick slowly. "But..." you look into his eyes but he shakes his head with a mean smirk when he looks at you. "As much as I wanna fuck that pretty mouth of yours, that's gonna have to wait another time" He chuckles, pushing you down on your back by your shoulder.

"I need t'fuck you, baby... Need t'feel you 'round my dick again..." he growls, watching the way your face is flushed and your legs are spread out on either side of his torso. He strokes his dick in his hands as he hums, using his free hand to slide your shorts and panties over your legs, throwing it with his pants.

"Fuckin' hell..." he groans when his eyes finally see your bare pussy, your clit twitching and your entrance clenching around nothing. It makes him fist his cock harder as he runs his free hand down your stomach, his thumb finding your clit and rolling it down in little circles.

"Stop teasing..." you say through gritted teeth as one of your hands grip the sheets under you and the other pressed against Simon's chest. "M'not teasing" He chuckles, tapping his dick on your clit a few times. "Just shut up and fuck me already, Simon..." You whine, slapping his chest pathetically.

"Gettin' feisty now, eh?" he laughs lowly as a low satisfied rumble comes from deep in his throat when he grinds his cock against your pussy, letting it catch your slick. "Need to take it slow, love... I don't wanna hurt you" Simon groans, aligning his tip with your entrance.

"Oh... god-" you breathe out matched with a long moan from Simon as pushes the tip in. It makes a lewd, sort of wet sound when he enters you. It makes your head spin in the way it makes Simon throw his head back as he pushes deeper until he's completely inside you with a hard thrust.

He rolls his thumb over your clit, waiting for your breath to steady. "Doin' so good, baby... Taking me so well..." He coos, pressing on your clit as his eyes narrow on the sight of your body, all hot just for him. "M-move, Si..." You whimper out, closing your eyes tightly and adjusting to the feel of Simon inside you again after so long.

Simon hums while he rolled his hips, slowly thrusting his cock in and out. It's slow so he can let you adjust, help you remember how good he stretches you out that it makes you all dumb and pliable for him. "Mmm, yeah... Feels so good, love" he grunts, his hips moving just a tad bit faster.

He thrusts all the way to the hilt every single time, and it feels like he goes deeper and deeper with every thrust he gives you. He squeezes at your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he parts your legs even more, putting you in a mating press.

It makes you whimper the way you're starting to feel the slight pain of Simon's body pressed right into you. He's like an animal now, fucking you in such a primal way when he growls in your ear, encouraged by the delicious moans you give him and how you squirm and say his name in your breathy, fucked out voice.

"That's it, taking me like such a good fuckin' girl" He chuckles, driving his hips harder, the sound of his skin slapping against your cunt almost drives you crazy. He leans up, letting your legs rest as he massages them gently, a sharp juxtaposition from how hard he's fucking your weeping cunt.

"Needed this so bad, baby..." He groans, pulling your legs around his torso as he leans down to kiss at your neck. You can hear him mumbling sweet little nothings in your ear as his hands grip at your thighs and the soft skin of your waist.

"Tell me y'missed me... I wanna hear it" He mumbles against your neck, moaning lowly. He sounded so calm and so gentle yet the way his cock was filling you up and stretching you out so good was far from gentle. "Tell me y'missed this dick, baby, c'mon..." He hums, his hand travelling up to play with your tits.

"I-I mis-" You started, but the way Simon was fucking you so good made your head spin you couldn't even string a proper sentence together. He laughed, grazing his teeth over the skin of your shoulder, "Awe can't even speak anymore?" He teases, slowing his hips down and it makes you groan in disapproval.

"Why'd you slow down..." you whine, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. "Wanna hear you say you missed me first" He chuckled. It was bad enough that he slowed down, but it's even worse when he pulls out and looks down at you with a cruel smirk, stroking the cock that was supposed to be making you cum.

"Tell me how bad you missed me, baby, you can do it" He laughs lowly and he doesn't look away from you as he fists his cock to the look of pleasure on your face.

"I-I missed you Simon, so much-" you moaned out desperately as your pussy clenched on nothing. You were ready to beg for his cock again if he needed you to but you didn't have to worry for long when he turned you around, stuffing your pussy with his fat cock from behind.

"Good girl... Such a good fuckin' girl, aren't ya?" His words are so dirty it makes you tighten around him with a stifled moan as he fucks you fast and deep, not giving you a chance to adjust to the new angle he's pounding you in.

You can't respond and all you can even do is moan and take Simon's hard dick stuffing you over and over again. It doesn't take long for you to feel that tight knot forming in your stomach and Simon can feel it too from the way you're starting to tighten around him.

"Gonna cum, baby?" He asks you with a drawn out hum as he kneads your ass, watching the way it jiggles with every thrust.

You nod, moaning into your pillows as you clawed at the sheets. "Cum for me then... Cum on my dick..." He coos, pushing your hips down to give himself a better view of your ass. Your arms give out and you're practically being fucked into the bed.

Simon chuckles, taking your wrists and pulling them towards him suddenly. It makes you gasp when you feel the pressure building in your shoulders when Simon tightens his grip on your wrists.

"Si... M'close..." Your voice comes out choked out and broken, spiking up every time he bullies his cock harshly inside you and makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Don't need to tell me baby, just cum f'me..." He mutters breathlessly, now holding your wrists behind your back with one hand as the other lands a harsh slap to your ass, making you whimper.

You gasp as tears rolled down your cheeks from how overwhelmed you were. "Simon... Simon..." your voice shakes as you struggle against his grip on your wrists. "Do it baby, cum for me..." He hums, giving your ass a loving squeeze.

You dig your nails into the sheets when you finally feel that knot in your stomach unravel, you feel tingly all over as you cum on Simon's cock with a loud moan of his name. It makes you whine when he doesn't stop, chasing his orgasm now when he feels your pussy tighten around him so good.

"Fuck baby... That's it, that's it..." His groan turns into a drawn out moan as he throws his head back. With the way you were clenching down on him, it made him sloppy.

Simon was sounding whiny now while he chased his high. His hands were squeezing your hips as he held you down and fucked you harder into the bed. He was babbling now, about how good you felt and how you were such a good girl. All for him.

"Feel's so good, lovie... Let me cum inside, please?" He whined through gritted teeth, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. "Please let me cum inside? Please, baby... Please..." He moans into your skin desperately, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder.

"Yes... Yes, inside..." You nod desperately, feeling overstimulated after just coming down from your high and now being used by Simon to chase his own climax.

"Oh fuck..." His voice shakes as he cums inside you, painting your walls white with his cum as he gives you a few more hard thrusts to make sure you take all of it.

"Thank you, love... Thank you" he whispers after some time had passed, giving your hips an appreciative squeeze as he slowly pulled out of you. You whined when he finally pulled out, leaving you breathless as you felt his hot cum drip from your pussy to your clit.

"So beautiful..." Simon whispers as he lays beside you, pulling you close to him in a warm hug with your back against his chest. He wraps his arms around his waist and means his head down on your shoulder to give you gentle kisses.

"I love you..." He whispered close to your ear as his hands caressed your body soothingly. You hummed in content as you relaxed in his arms and allowed yourself to move a bit closer.

"I love you too..." You say quietly, rubbing his arms which were wrapped around you. Simon hums and kisses your hair, lingering there to take in your scent. "I won't leave again... I promise" he mumbles against your hair, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly.

You nod, looking over your shoulder to give him a warm smile, you were too tired and spent to talk but you knew Simon would be able to know what you were thinking just by looking into your eyes.

He chuckles and presses a soft kiss to your lips briefly. "And you know what's funny?" He laughed softly, raising a hand to caress your cheek, "It's Valentine's day" he looked over to the window and you followed his eyes.

The sun was starting to rise and it made you scoff that Simon really came back to you at the perfect timing.

"We're staying in, that's for sure" you laughed quietly, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as sleep slowly overtook you, but you didn't feel lonely anymore. Simon was back, and he knew he would never leave again.

[seattlesellie]

Reader getting a little embarrassed bc Ellie's strap won't fit?

Sorry of that's too much

perfect fit. ♡

screaming crying losing my mind. what a perf excuse to use “ill make it fit”

She’d be on top of you, forehead lightly pressed onto yours. You feel her pouty, somewhat chapped lips ghosting over your own, then lightly and delicately pecking the corner of your mouth. It’s one of your favorite types of kisses, makes you melt into the mattress, heavenly sigh, tremble within her touch. The warmth of her breath caresses your skin, a gentle zephyr of intimacy, of being so close. She looks at you so fucking intently, concentrated, fixated, scarred brows knit together and god, you love that little serious line that forms in between them.

The best way to describe her gaze, the most accurate one, would be to say that she looks at you as if she’s studying, genuinely attempting to take in every little gasp that you let out, eager to decipher every subtle nuance of your existencet, every single blink of your eyelids.

Ellie lowers her hand down from your cheek to the base of her strap on, caressing it upon your soaking, gushing slit. When you moan as a result of its bulbous tip hitting the hood of your clit, then your clit itself, Ellie smirks like an asshole. "I can just keep going like that if you want me to”, she whispers, meaning she knows she could make your pussy cum from just rubbing her cock all over its folds. You shake your head no, because as much as you know that it’s true, you yearn for her inside of you, for that intimacy of getting fucked deep with something she treats as if was her own. Ellie chuckles. “What do you want then, babe?” she coos lowly, continuously hitting that sweet spot above your clit that makes you whine, and her grunt.

You attempt to grab the back of her neck and bring her closer to you, to push her in somehow, but you’re too overwhelmed by everything, your hand ends up falling on the mattress and landing with a small thud. You whine, “Ellie…”, she smirks, moistening her bottom lip and slightly pushing the tip in, so it hangs juuuust a tiny bit away from being inside of your hole. “Inside?” she murmurs, never failing to add that teasing “yeah?” of a raspy coo.

You eagerly nod, she loves it when you do that — so fucking pliant, she stops you mid nod for a kiss that leaves the two of you breathless, tongues dancing a nasty, wet, sinful rhythm within the realm of your hot mouth. She leaves your lips with a loud smack. Your lips are swollen, a pout that kills, how could she ever concentrate on something else in her life?

She’d be absolutely lying if she said she didn’t have daydreams (and nightdreams) of your tight cunt stretched out by her cock, of seeing that pretty clit poking and peaking from the top of your pussy, of watching and taking in the sight of the stretch, the way it’ll slide up and down so easily because of how wet you get.

Unfortunately, Ellie did not take the tightness of yourself in consideration. She picked and packed a nine incher, deep blue and veiny, a bold choice, a goddamn cocky one.

You grab her sleek bicep and dent her skin with your nails, she hisses. You’re actually soaking, a pretty clear pool of heavenly nectar formed on the bedsheet, inside the seam of your ass. Your tiny whimpers are shaky and breathy and ever so desperate, egging Ellie on. “please…” you beg even under no command to do so. “Want it that bad?” teases Ellie, but with how desperate she has become, it sounds more like a plea, begging to please tell her how bad.

“need it inside, ellie, n-need you inside”

"Mhm", she hums softly, eyelids descending languidly, surrendering to the ecstasy of hearing your voice. “M’gonna fuck you” — god, you love it when she tells it like it is.

Pampering your cheeks with desperate, wet little kisses like raindrops, she pushes the tip in further, but… it won’t go inside. It’s blocked, your narrow hole begins to burn, redden, eyesight going out of focus, everything fading into a hazy abstraction. “Babe, it won’t…” she murmurs and attempts to fuck herself inside again. “Fuck, t'wont go in”

Your heart quickens its rhythm, a pulsating drumbeat beneath your chest, as you instinctively shut your eyes and, with a mix of embarrassment and restraint, gently bite down on your lip. You spread your thighs even further, attempting to somehow give her more space for movement, she pushes in again, you wince. “Owh, Ellie… owh”

You don't quite know if you're more embarrassed, or more pissed off. Your hole pulsates and yearns for a taste of her dick, but it hurts, and this feeling bubbles up inside your chest — This actual fear of disappointment, of not being good enough like her previous partners, of being or feeling too fragile, too inexperienced. You can't help but scan your eyes over her face, looking for a sign that will tell you that you're right, that you have disappointed her or worse, but before you manage to find it —

“Ffffuuuhck” she exasperates breathily. She strokes your cheeks with her thumb, a worried expression on her face. Her eyes dart over your form, muscles of her jaw tightly clenched. "Don't wanna hurt you", She murmurs and her voice is so sweet, "Can jus' use my fingers, yeah?"

“No, please" you sob, "I’m— fuck, i’m too tight!” your voice is a whine, an actual tear leaking from the corner of your eye, chin wobbling. Ellie’s so fucking torn because poor you, and she knows it hurts — she doesn’t want to hurt you, ever — but hearing those words fall from your lips… it’s hard not to buck her hips inwards and make you take it, miss “too tight”

“This is so… m'sorry” you actually sob, sniffling and avoiding her loving gaze, and maybe if you’d look — instead of letting your embarrassment wash over you and be a murky presence in your mind, your tears might have faltered. “S’not gonna fit”, your chest heaves. Ellie wipes a tear away — from your cheek, from the corners of your eyes, she considers comforting you, telling you to never apologize for anything, ever again, but she's sensible and rational and knows what do to next, to actually stop your tears from falling.

“babe?”, she huskily murmurs. You hum back, holding onto another choked sob.

“I’ll make it fit”

“Know I will”

[certifiedyapperx]

Captain John Price • broken.

PAIRING: John Price x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: the result of my poll. in short, you tell your captain that the reason you’ve only dated one man is because your ex said you were broken due to your inability to orgasm; and price offers to show you that the only thing broken was your confidence.

WORD COUNT: 5.3k (got carried away.)

TAGS: 18+, PURE FILTHY SMUT MDNI, Slight Degradation, Praise, Multiple Orgasm, PIV, Semi-Public Sex, Dirty Talk, Absurd amount of swearing, Fingering, Price being daddy as fuck.

"What about that ex girlfriend of yours, Gaz?"

As soon as those words left the Scottish lads lips, everyone in the room was giggling like a lot of fucking schoolgirls. You'd be lying if you said that didn't include yourself.

"You want to talk about ex girlfriends now, Soap?" Gaz sat forward in his chair, eyeing his grinning teammate from across the room, the grip on his glass so tight you were worried it'd shatter between his fingers. "What about that woman you boned in Prague? The one that wanted, oh--how do I say it...a little ride on train 141."

"Nuthin' little about that train." Ghost added through a choked chuckle, barely able to get the words out.

Your fucking abdomen was starting to get sore from the amount of laughing you'd done tonight. These men were absolutely ridiculous. You'd never heard more obscene sex stories in your damn life, and they've got a bloody abundance of them--the back and fourth taunting over who fucked who and who did what never seemed to end. It was almost three in the morning and they were still going strong.

"Aye," Soap leaned back in his chair, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a slow sip, wide eyes gleaming as he reminisced. "Fuckn' wild one, that one. Had her nice and tamed for me by the end of that deployment.”

"Aye, the fucking woman whisperer, this one," Ghost chimed in again, his balaclava half pulled up, exposing his stubble-donned chin and grinning lips as he took a hefty swig of bourbon. Not even fazed. "Almost as smooth as Price."

Everyone in the room chuckled, nodding and muttering words of agreement, but you were stuck in place--still absentmindedly staring at Ghost while turning the words over in your mind, curiosity piqued.

"Price?" His name left your lips before you could even attempt to prevent it.

All eyes in the room shifted toward you, and Gaz cocked an eyebrow. "You've never heard any of his stories?"

Ghost shot him a look. "Clearly not."

"I mean, I've heard some..." you mumbled, awkwardly trying to fix the mess you've just made. Your gaze darted between the three men staring at you, each set of eyes glazed with confusion, clearly trying to figure out why you were so taken aback. "Captain is far more secretive than the rest of you."

You'd been on the team for a solid eight months. Since recruitment, you'd worked alongside Price every single fucking day, yet the man hardly ever spoke about his personal life.

Unlike the others, who seemed to never stop.

"Around you, yeah." Soap mumbled with a smirk, shooting a knowing glance toward Gaz who instantly returned it.

Your brows knit in confusion. "Around me?"

"Aye." Ghost replied for Soap, and you were practically sitting on the edge of your goddamn seat as you knew he wasn't finished. He shifted lower in his chair as his eyes traced up and down your form. "You're new. You're hot. You've never spoken a word about your own personal life. The man's a bloody nutcase, but he hides it well when he needs to--he probably doesn't want to scare you off."

"Scare me off?" You had to fight to keep your jaw off the floor. Trying to mask your confusion, you cleared your throat. "What's that supposed to mean?"

At your reaction, everyone chuckled again, and your face immediately flushed with blood--shading you the same crimson colour found on a ripe fucking tomato. If there was some joke happening here, it'd clearly flown way above your radar.

And yet, before you or anyone else could even consider speaking again, the man of the hour appeared in the doorway, and you nearly fell out of your chair.

"Valid question." He didn't even acknowledge you as he spoke, eyes fixed on Ghost as he took a step into the room.

Gods, he was fucking attractive—every molecule in your being screamed at the sight of him. You'd done everything you could to ignore that fact for the entirety of your time here, ensuring your focus was trained on keeping things professional--but after two glasses of whiskey and the current topic of conversation, the flood gates were wide fucking open.

"Go on, Ghost," his voice was low, deep as the depths of your desire as his ocean eyes slowly danced around the room. "...I'd like to know the answer as well."

Price took a seat across from you, slouching slightly and nodding toward Soap who promptly poured him a glass of burning brown liquid and slid it across the table. Ghost pulled down his balaclava in attempt to hide his cheeky fucking grin, shrugging as though he had no idea what his Captain was on about. 

"Not sure what you mean, Cap." Ghost quipped, and you could practically hear the beaming delight in his words. "We're just talking."

"Hm," Price side-eyed him, humoured. "You always talk about me?"

"Only when you're not around." Soap chimed in, snuffing a groan in his throat as he'd downed the rest of his drink and stood up, shooting an inebriated nod to each of you. "Well, would you look at the time--I'm gonna' hit the sack. Duty calls, y'know."

Your stomach churned with confusion, your eyes glued to the Scottish bloke who decided it was convenient to make his exit the exact moment Price entered the room. You almost wanted to reach over and yank him back into his seat.

"Keep it classy ya filthy bastards."

He shot you a cheeky wink from beyond the door frame before disappearing into the abyss, only for Gaz and Ghost to rise from their seats as well, seemingly following Soap's lead, muttering excuses about how late it was and how exhausted they were.

Your mind raced at lightning speed, trying to make sense of the sudden exodus. You were going to kill those fuckers in the morning.

Price broke the silence before it had the chance to linger for too long. "It's not personal, you know."

Your heart slammed your sternum. You sucked in a breath and trapped it there. You needed to calm the fuck down--though that seemed like a goddamn impossible task at the moment. Prices' voice was the hypnotizing depth of a black hole. It stirred every last atom within you.

Avoiding his eyes, you straightened in your seat, clearing your throat. "I know."

"Do you?" He cocked an eyebrow, two fingertips tracing the rim of his glass. "I'm not so sure."

You looked up now--almost immediately regretting it as your eyes caught his. You forced words out of your mouth before you could acknowledge how the way he was looking at you made you feel.

"It's because I haven’t opened up to you..." you murmured. "Yeah?"

Price nodded, choosing to remain silent, his gaze anchoring you to the floor—every muscle stiff as stone.

You cleared your throat again. "Well. What do you want to know? My family? Where I grew up-"

"No." He cut you off, leaning forward, elbows resting on the table as his stare intensified. "...I already know all that. You're my recruit, I know everything about your past..." his head tilted, his eyes narrowed, and he pushed his glass to the side, clasping his hands together infront of him. "What I don't know, is why a woman as skilled, as smart, and as undeniably attractive as you, has only ever been with one man."

Blood crystallized in your veins, every ounce of your skin vibrating with an emotion you couldn't identify. He was so close—closer than you'd initially gauged—and that closeness ignited dormant desperation, one you'd nearly forgotten existed.

Your throat was thick. Saliva lodged inside it. "I..."

There was a reason. There was a very good reason as to why you've only been with one man, why you promised to never put yourself through that shit again. But you couldn't bring yourself to say it, you couldn't bring yourself to speak the words aloud. That would mean being vulnerable, humiliatingly vulnerable--one of the many things soldiers were trained not to be.

Captain Price hummed, leaning back slightly, and a swarm of unpreventable desire roared alive in your chest. His attention flicked over you. Like he'd felt it.

He remained silent. He was waiting for an answer.

"It's...um..."

Your brain filtered through pages of plausible excuses until it landed on one. Inhaling a breath, you forced the fibbing syllables past your teeth, shrugging in an attempt to make it believable.

"I just...never found anyone I jived with.”

Price paused, his scrutiny skinning you raw. It was like he knew what was waiting on the edge of your tongue, like he could smell the smoke swirling off the fire below your waist. He wasn't buying it.

"You can't lie to me." His words only confirmed your thoughts. "I mean, theoretically you could, though I'd advise against it."

You swallowed, forcing your eyes to your hands. "I'm not lying."

"Perhaps not," he replied, voice cool as ice. "But you're certainly omitting."

Fuck, he was good. And of course he was--there was a reason he was Captain. He was fucking bred for this. You were certain he could detect a lie from light years away.

"It's embarrassing," you replied, ignoring the thrilled leap your heart made that he'd read you so well. "You'll think less of me."

John Price leaned further across the small table, nibbling the distance between you. The intensity of his focus made your insides tangle, something was undoubtedly churning within his mind. A breath caught in your throat as his eyes held yours.

"I don't care," he stole another inch, and you could now comfortably say that he was well within your personal space. "If this is going to work, there has to be trust. Because you should trust me—as your Captain, and as your friend..." in a single abrupt movement, he stood up, towering over you, eyes boring into the top of your head until he shifted toward the door. "...when you're ready to open up to me, I’ll open up to you."

Ice braced your veins. This was the most conversation you'd had with your Captain since you joined the team, and you were about to blow it with your inability to talk to him. To just telling him the fucking truth. He took a step back from the table, began moving toward the door, and you panicked.

You let him get two steps from reaching it before you jumped up, out of your seat. "Wait!"

Time was a relative concept. But as your Captain spun, and as you linked eyes with him, it slowed. Stopped.

You cleared your throat for the millionth time. "It's because...it's because I'm broken."

Price's eyes widened, only momentarily, before they narrowed--out of curiosity or skepticism, you couldn't tell.

"You’re broken." He said, drawing the words out on his tongue while taking a slow, lengthy step toward you. "Elaborate."

You dropped your eyes to the floor again, catching sight of his brown, rugged combat boots as they stepped into your line of sight. Heat flashed your face, and you shifted on your feet.

"My...my ex...um," your voice was barely above a whisper. Something felt gut-wrenchingly humiliating about having this conversation with your fucking Captain. "He, he kinda fucked with my head, I guess. Made me never want to date again."

You heard an exhale, a huff of enticed breath leaving lungs.

"I think," Price eased closer, and you caught whiff of his cologne--the scent engulfing your senses, sending hunger snarling and snapping for relief. "...you're omitting again."

"Why?..." you blurted, trailing your gaze past the vast expanse of his strong chest and up to his gleaming eyes peering down at you. You blinked. "...do you think that?"

Price raised a brow. "Am I wrong?"

"No, it’s just…” you closed your eyes, took a breath. Let it out. No point in lying. Just rip off the fucking bandaid. "He broke up with me because I couldn't orgasm. He said I was broken because of it. It’s dumb, but it hurt.”

Gods, it felt so fucking stupid that you had to smile, had to damn near laugh at yourself. As much as it sounded so foolish, you'd always just considered that maybe something was actually wrong with you. After all, he was your first, and your only—and the fact that you could never orgasm bothered you, too.

However, when you finally reopened your eyes, swallowing whatever ounces of pride you had left, you found a depth to your Captain's ocean irises that was not there before.

There was something floating inside them, now--something primal, something depraved.

"Interesting." His hand raised from his side, grazing over your cheek and coming to a slow on your neck, the tips of his fingers skimming over your racing pulse. "Broken."

Any blood that had been left in your head was now plummeting to your core.

"Broken." You whispered.

Price exhaled, his breath caressing your face, and you bit your lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to thrust itself past your teeth. Never once would you have considered the thought of actually fucking your Captain--but right here, right now, with the way he was touching you, analyzing you, palpably tempting you--it was becoming more difficult to deny the physical need steaming from your pores.

"This,” his voice was so deep it made your blood sweat, his thumb stroking your pulse. "Doesn't feel broken at all."

Adrenaline surged you, ambushing your lungs with rapid breath, flares of lust sparking over your skin. You leaned into his touch, and he let out a sound that was somewhere between a hum and a straight up growl.

Your pulse soared, your hand finding his wrist. “Captain…”

It would be lying to say you thought this was a good decision. But you couldn't find a fuck within you. After years of denying yourself any sort of physical touch due to the shame that consumed you, Price had perceived it without effort and ordered you strip yourself of pretense in his presence.

"Let me show you...." Price wedged a boot between your feet, his hips brushing yours, other hand finding your hip. "...that the only thing broken is your confidence."

You nearly whimpered. "Please."

Without further contemplation, your eyes darted to his lips the same millisecond his darted to yours, and you both moved at once. Price groaned, one hand shooting into your hair, the other supporting the small of your back, tugging you close. His hungry mouth captured yours, teeth nipping your lower lip as he spun you around and pushed you back against the table.

You groaned into his mouth, your ass hitting the cool metal with abrupt force. His lips attacked your jawline, moved down to your neck, and another groan escaped you, this time in bliss.

"Fuck," you cursed under your breath, throwing your hips into his, allowing desperation to guide you. "Captain..."

A low, menacing noise reverberated in his throat and he seized your neck again, bringing his mouth to your ear.

"My name," he took the lobe between his teeth, earning a squeak. "Say it."

"John—" You gasped, clawing at his back. "Shit."

"Mm. Good girl. So obedient..." he purred, tracing his mouth along the curve of your ear. "So responsive."

"Fuck." Every new beat of your heart brought a desperate pulse to your cunt. His fingers found your hair again, curling into a fist. "John...please..."

Your Captain hummed, just as his lips moved back to your pulse and attacked it, sucking rough rabid marks to the surface, his hips grinding against yours. Your eyelids fluttered shut, and he moved lower, releasing your head to work on removing your clothes.

Before your belt even hit the floor, he was tearing off your shirt and tugging off your bra--exposing your breasts to the cool air of the dimly lit room, surging goosebumps to life that he was quick to cover with his hands, taking the fresh tissue between them and kneading it.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, to himself you presumed. "You're fucking perfect."

There was one brief second of thought surrounding the notion that any one of your teammates could walk in and find the two of you here—but that thought was quickly lost as Price leant down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. You squealed, squeaking in pleasure, and his grip possessed your hips.

"So sensitive..." he said with a grunt. Your Captain wasn't just hungry—he was starved, more voracious by the second, spurred on by your reactions. "Fucking hell."

He leaned back, hooked his fingers under the waist of your pants and pulled, unconcerned for the ripping seams as he forced them down the curve of your thighs. Your head rung, entire body tingling. Paralyzed, you watched your Captain tear off your boots and rip your pants free, tossing them all to the side.

"Fuck me." He muttered again, returning his sights to your figure. "Look at you."

Price examined you like a meal, gaze traveling from your collarbone to your breasts, down past the curve of your belly to the swell of your hips, coming to a slow between your quivering thighs.

Adrenaline had got you this far. Reality was setting in. "Captain..."

"Shh," calloused hands found your hips, urging you back against the desk, spreading your legs further apart as he inserted himself between them. "I already told you what to call me."

You shuddered, twitching from his touch, and the corner of his lip quirked. Smouldering blue eyes searing into your skin. "John, I—"

His thumbs slid close to your heat, dipping into the crease and teasing close to the edge of your thong. Reality was a plummeting star, crashing down into your mind without regard. Nerves were consuming you, fingers digging into his biceps in attempt to stop them from shaking.

"You...what?" His voice was practically a lullaby. How something so deep could be so soothing was beyond your comprehension. "Go on, pretty thing..."

"I just..." you shifted your hips, trying to balance fear with desire. "I'm just...I don't want to disappoint you..."

Price assessed you, only for a moment, gracing your thigh with a stern yet gentle smack before trailing upward.

"Enough." It was an order. "I want you out of that beautiful mind."

He brushed his finger across your cunt, grazing over your swollen clit, and you choked, hips snapping toward him.

"Don't think..." the power in his words was intoxicating, a command given with the confidence of knowing you'd obey. He teased your clit again and you whinged, gripping him harder. "...just feel."

Before a coherent thought could enter your head, he pulled your panties to the side with two thick fingers, not giving you a second to brace for it before he used those same fingers and sank them into your tight, aching cunt.

"Oh—fuck-"

You groaned, head tossed back, walls tightening around the delicious stretch as he pried you open with slippery ease. The intensity, the fullness from just his fingers stole your breath, dizzied your mind, and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the growling breath escaping his lungs, trying to ground yourself as much as you could.

"Christ...tight little cunts just soaked..." he was right, you were dripping. You couldn't ever remember being this wet. In truth, you couldn't ever remember being this turned on, this desperate for touch. "Tell me how that feels."

"G-oh, fuck—" any additional words you had planned on using instantly died on your tongue as Price curled inside of you, pushing deep, every coherent thought fleeing your mind with a moan. Your entire body pulsed for him, like he'd shaken every cell awake and enthralled it under his possession. "John—oh, Gods!"

It wasn't like you'd never been fingered. It'd just never felt like this.

Something about the trained motion of his hand, the skilled curl of his wrist, the attunement to your body was consuming you--the need for more only increasing as he found a perfect rhythm, fucking slow, reaching to your belly while his thumb circled your sensitive clit. Your cunt throbbed, squeezed around him, as if to coax him deeper inside of you.

"Needy little thing," an amused huff at the corner of your consciousness. You forced yourself to look at him—he was smirking. "Tell me how it feels."

Desperation was throbbing at your temples, growling and coiling in your belly—unfathomable, incredible desperation stalling your lungs. Unfamiliar, but entirely absentmindedly as Price stroked your walls, stroked your clit, and you were gasping, you were—

"So fucking good—" you were practically screaming, brain a mangled mess of aimless words. "Cap—John, I—I'm-"

His free hand seized your jaw, forcing you to look up into his eyes, his fingers still keeping their pace, your vision blurring to bliss. "You're?"

You gasped. "I’m-"

"You’re close." Fire flooded your flesh, and you mewled like a nervous, helpless animal. His grip tightened. Intensity and power radiating off him in waves. "S’ that what you want, little slut? Hm? You wanna’ fuckin’ cum for your Captain, don’t you?”

“Yes!” No thought required. “Pleasepleaseplease-“

“Mhm. That’s right, that’s right—“ he was just as gone as you were. Air rattled in your lungs like rocks. Your vision blurring as you held onto him like your life depended on it. “Cum on my fingers, darling, let me feel you.”

A scream shredded your throat, submerged in a storm of euphoria, sight whiter than the gates of heaven themselves. Convulsions wracked you, quaked to your bones, and you heaved, hunting for air while he worked you through the receding tide of your release.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He growled, the arrogance in his tone palpable. “Look how easy that was, hm?”

Your Captian pulled his fingers from cunt and yanked you off the table by the hold on your jaw—you stumbled into him, wetness seeping down your thighs, brain given less than two seconds to process the slew of events before his slick covered fingers were at your lips and pushing past your teeth.

"The way I see it, soldier—there are two possible explanations here." He shoved his fingers deeper, reaching for the back of your throat. "Either you somehow managed to lie to me..." he pressed against you, his desire evident in the way it was jabbing against your stomach. "Or this tight little cunt has never been properly sated."

Your heart was in your feet, your lips sealed around his fingers as you held his eyes, a shade of blue so deep you'd almost thought you were staring into the depths of the ocean. His pupils were blown wide with lust, it was clear what he was getting at—and judging by the way your cunt clenched in response to his words, it was clear that you felt the same.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, looking for a response. You gave the only words you could think of. "I didn’t lie…I’ve had sex, Captain...I’ve just never done—that.”

"Well I think I've just proven that it wasn’t due to any fault of your own." His words were backing you into a corner, an explanation that was challenging to draw yet completely impossible to now ignore. "I got you there in seconds."

Your face grew hot. “So..what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he assessed you, eyes looking past you, through you. “Your ex didn’t know what he was doing.” he leaned in closer, plush lips curling into a mischievous grin. “All you needed was someone who knew how to handle you.”

"Hm." The arrogance was stifling, setting you ablaze. It only made you want him more. "Cocky bastard."

"Cocky," he repeated with a raised brow. "You have no idea, princess.”

"You know what, Captain," you teased with a smirk of your own, unable to tear your sights off him. His eyes. His lips. "I think you just got lucky."

“Luck.” He chuckled—a deep, growling thing. "I don’t do luck, soldier. I do facts.” Price shifted a hand to his crotch, palming his erection through his pants as he pressed against you. “Fact one, I just gave you your first orgasm.” He was possessed, hungry, borderline rabid. “Fact two, I could do it again on my cock. If you’d like.”

And you, you were his eager, willing prey.

"Shit," you muttered, the words shooting straight to your cunt. You didn’t need any further discussion. You wanted him, and nothing could stop the next words from leaving your lips. "Please...please fuck me..."

Your Captain growled. The sweet desperation of your pleas sending him past the point of salvation. He sucked in a breath. Trapped it there—internally clutching whatever ounces of restraint he had left.

"You sure you want this?" His voice was so fucking low you almost missed it. His fingers moved to his belt, and his lips moved to your ear. "I'm not so sure you can take it."

"I'm built for combat, Captain..." you murmured with a grin, spurred on by the evidence of his throbbing desire, fingers trailing toward his belt to help him along. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

Price huffed against your jawline. Amused.

"You’re built for combat, undoubtedly..." you watched as he pulled free his thick, heavy cock. Your jaw slackened, your mouth watered. "But by the time I'm done with you, darling..." he seethed in relief as he guided his hand back and forth along his length, other one directing you back against the table. "You'll be built for me."

A sharp intake of breath found your lungs and then you were lying flat against the table, cool metal biting your backside and ripping goosebumps to the surface of your skin. You shuddered, seething in discomfort, but two strong hands made quick work to soothe them, coasting up your thighs until they found your hips, and then he stepped forward.

"Christ..." you whimpered as he loomed over you, the warm head of his cock rolling over your clit, teasing you with false thrusts, making sure you were well aware of just how long and fucking thick he was. "John..."

"Quiet." He purred, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Just let me break you open."

His heavy, smooth tip pressed against your entrance and then pushed in, head just barely spearing you yet somehow still splitting your cunt with a girth that stole your breath and forced a cry from your throat. With a breathless groan he pulled out, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing.

He smacked your thigh again. “Look at me.” He hissed, teeth sinking into the plush of his bottom lip as you instantly obeyed. “That’s it. Eyes on me.”

There was a mere second of silence before he sank in again, entirely this time—and though you were fucking sopped and pliant and voracious, he tore you wide with a sting.

"Oh—fuck-"

You fought for air, your body trembling, fingers clawing at anything that might steady you. He’d stuffed you full with ease, lungs heaving upon impact. Both big hands tightened around you, and he slid out, driving into you again with a hidden hiss of air, earning a loud, shameless groan from your lips.

"Fucking hell.” A dark, low voice rumbled from his throat. "Tight little whore. So fucking tight—"

"You're—oh, fuck—" words died on your tongue as he pulled out, pushed in again, sucking in air through his teeth, working you wider with each plunge into your pussy. You clenched around him, and he snuffed a moan, snapping his hips. "You're fucking huge."

"Mhm, yeah," it was a shameless admission. He placed a palm on your pelvis, pressing down, feeling himself fucking into you. He leaned back slightly, drawing long, slow strokes, forcing you to quake around every inch of his length. "That's how fucking deep I'm in you."

And deep he fucking was. Every centimeter banishing the ability to do anything other than exist as a stammering sheath for his cock. It wasn't penetration—it was pervasion, it was domination. Sex had never felt this intense. Sex had never felt this fucking tranquilizing.

"Christ—Cap-John—fuck—"

Price slid out and rocked in, driving to your stomach with a stab of blissful pain. Eyes snapping shut, you gripped his arms, seething when he thrusted again, and again. Each stroke shoved a cry from your chest, tightened your walls, and this only seemed to entice him, his cock splitting you apart. You scratched at his shoulders, fighting to find yourself in the bewildering delirium.

"There we go." His voice was distant in the sea of pleasure. "Look at you. Brainless on my fucking cock."

Your response was a moan, loud and shameless, gripping onto his arms and matching his rhythm, forcing your hips to his, a plea—faster, harder, more, more. Your Captain hissed in satisfaction, and his hand snaked between you, rolling and teasing your clit.

Your vision blurred for the hundredth time. "Oh, fuck—"

Delirium ascended into ecstasy, pleasure amplified by the stretch of his dick. He fucked into you, his skin smacking yours, his breath heaving in feral huffs.

"Fucking perfect pussy," he growled through his teeth, shifting your legs together and directing both ankles over his left shoulder, his thrusts slowly slightly as you gasped and whimpered, clawing at his hips, the new position causing the head of his cock to kiss your cervix with each thrust. "Mm, fuck...this is what you needed, darling. You needed a proper fucking."

"Fuck," you replied, brain numbed by bliss. Words didn't even make sense. "Deep. So fuck—deep—"

"Fuck—take it, take it little slut." His thumb was back on your clit, swirling it in tight, fast circles, his cock fucking deep into you. "I warned you."

"John—" You needed to scream, fingers clawing at anything they could find. If you weren't broken before, you’d certainly be broken when he was done with you. "Fuck—"

Bliss burned to burst, stars swarmed your sight entirely, and you knew it, knew it was happening, knew that you were about to break. The feeling was so intense you didn't know what to do with yourself, you weren't sure if you could even get the words out to warn him.

Your eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck—I'm—I-I'm..."

"Yeah, that's right." He hissed, teeth barred, hips snapping. He already knew. "Cum for me. Cum on my fucking cock."

Lightning euphoria ripped up your spine with a shameless shriek, your climax shattering you. Your cunt milked his dick, your thighs spasming, your back reached for the ceiling, pleasure possessing your nerves.

"There we go—good little fucking slut—squeezing me so good," it seemed an eternity--he was still fucking you through it, breaking you deep, until he edged his climax. "Fucking hell."

He sputtered, pummelling your cunt with sloppy final thrusts, pouring his cum inside you, grip gouging your flesh until he descended, meeting you in the receding tides of your peaks. Both of you twitched with aftershocks, both of you seeking air.

Once he stalled, you sucked in a long inhale and peeled your eyes open, taking in your surroundings for the first time in however many minutes it had been. The room was still as dim and dreary as it was prior to your mind shattering, the only thing now different was your Captain—who remained looming over the table, cock still buried inside you, precipitation lining his forehead and chest still heaving for breath, piercing gaze perceiving you like a sated predator.

With a glance at your lips, he finally moved, pulling back and out of you, tucking himself away. It was then that reality struck you hard—you'd just fucked your Captain. And he'd just shattered the preconceived notions of everything you thought you knew.

You were not broken. You were perfectly fucking fine.

Price cleared his throat as you pulled yourself off of the table and stood. "Y'alright?"

You nodded, grabbing your pants off the floor. "Yes, Sir."

Shame engulfed you, for reasons you couldn't explain. Embarrassment threatened to swallow you whole.

"Hey." Sensing this, Price stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "Don't do that."

Your eyes fixed on his. Outlining his perfectly tamed facial hair, his striking blue eyes. "Do what?"

"Avoid me." He simply stated, his voice hardly above a whisper. "All this was, was me proving to you that you're not broken. You're the furthest from. It doesn't have to be any more than that."

"I know…just feel stupid, I guess.” Your face was in flames. You swallowed your pride until it was digested. There was no room for that here, not after what’d just happened. “I, uh, I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

Price regarded you with eyes warm as the summer sun, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. “I wanted you to open up to me. Willingly. I never pry.”

You cracked a smile, slipping on your shoes. “You got your wish, then. Emotionally and physically.”

“Aye.” Your captain chuckled, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and plopping himself into a seat, sliding a glass across the table toward you. “My turn, yeah?”

[justsalpals]

What if you were bones? If there was nothing else left of you?

No lungs filled with sweet laughter. No blood rushing to blushing cheeks. No skin grazing against mine when you twined our fingers together.

What if there was nothing left?

If I cradled your ribs in my palm, haunted by the ghost of your heartbeat? If I caressed the line of your ulna, almost able to feel the light brush of overlarge shirtsleeve dipping past your wrist? If the back of my knuckle skimmed the cheek of your skull, so sure I could still feel golden eyes staring so gently back at me through empty sockets?

(Mother said I'd have to watch everyone I loved pass on, but I was promised more time.)

(I walk out of step with the world, but you joined me with a gait all our own.)

(What is that if not a promise?)

What if there was nothing left but bones, yet I could still see the shape of you in the remains? If I handled every piece with the gentlest care, rebuilding you from the inside out? If I held each phalange tenderly in my palm, as if this were a new way you'd chosen to hold my hand?

(I was promised more time. Not enough, but more than this.)

Healing hurts. Magic weaving through meat and muscle and sinew, knitting together a wound before it's ready to let go. It's beautiful and necessary. The pain. Healing hurts. Living hurts. Loving hurts. Love beats in my heart my throat my hands my staff, bleeding like a gaping wound with every forbidden word spoken and ancient symbol sketched into stone.

If you need skin, blood, lungs, then you will have them. If you need flesh and meat and beating heart, I will build you them with my two bloodied hands. I will sculpt your bones a home from the carcass of a beast, breathe life into your hearth with dragonfire.

Healing hurts.

What if I didn't care who I hurt, if it meant having you again?

I think you can understand the sentiment.

And one day soon, when you look at me in the light above and give that gentle smile, I can't help but imagine hooking my fingers between the slats of your ribs and tugging you close enough to hear your heartbeat.

[lialacleaf]

A Touch Too Personal

Chapter 1

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: You had a crush on Ghost since you started working for Price in communications, but the gruff, reserved Lieutenant only acknowledged your existence on the job. That starts to change with a simple, thoughtful gift.

Warnings: Fluff, Simon is bad at processing emotions, past trauma

Chapter 2

You cared deeply about every single one of your teammates. It didn’t matter that you were sitting in an office talking to them over the radio, you were still providing them with intel and directions that kept them alive.

They were like a second family, and so Task Force 141 slowly began to feel like having a lot of older brothers.

Johnny was your go to partner in crime when it came to making mischief, and you knew he was always down for a good prank.

Kyle on the other hand was good for having deep conversations and was the one you always went to for advice.

Ghost…well ghost was a bit different. Your feelings towards him weren’t exactly that of a sibling. Maybe it was because he was more reserved than the others, a mystery or puzzle that you couldn’t quite figure out, but you couldn’t help but feel warm inside on the rare occasion that his intense gaze did linger on you.

Which lead to your current dilemma.

Every time you went home, you made sure to bring one of the boys a gift when you returned to base.

Being that Price was like a father figure, you brought him a handcrafted mug from your hometown’s local pottery festival. Soap had gotten a pocket knife with his call sign engraved on it, and Gaz had received a baseball cap with a hand stitched 141 on the side in his favorite color.

However, now it was Ghost’s turn, and you were at a loss. What would he even like to have? You knew he had an array of tactical gear, you’d seen him knit pick through it on occasion, but you didn’t know enough about working in the field to know kind of tools he’d like. He had so many knives already, that it felt redundant to get him another.

What on earth were you supposed to give this man?

“Maybe you could make this Ghost fella something yourself?” Your mother suggested as you sat in your parents living room to ponder the issue.

Your mother liked Ghost’s nickname, and laughed whenever you brought it up. You could only assume she was picturing a little boy in a Scream costume, and you had to admit that was a little funny. Ghost was the only one to not have shared his real name with you, and thus always ended up being teased by your family, not that he was aware of that.

“Like what?” You asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m stopping by the craft store, how about you come with me instead of sulking in the living room?”

~

You watched your mother peruse through the holiday decorations and shook your head. That woman was amassing quite the Christmas village collection.

You wandered through the store with dwindling hope until you saw it. It was in the fabric section that you found the most perfect pattern for your Lieutenant.

The fabric had a black background, with white Ghosts all over it. You picked up the roll with a brilliant smile on your face, and ran over to one of the fabric department employees.

“I need some of this,” you said, giddy and bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“How much do you want?” The woman asked, preparing her scissors.

Ghost was a pretty large man, and you took a moment to think about just how much fabric you were going to need.

“Uhhh, a lot.”

~

“Lass! How was the family?” Johnny asked, pulling you in for a tight hug as you pulled your luggage into your room on base.

“It was good, ate a lot, took my cousins shooting, family stuff,” you said with a grin. “I gotta show you something,” you insisted, pulling him inside your room.

“Oh? What’s that?” He asked curiously.

“You know how I always bring back a surprise?” You began, a grin on your face.

“Who’s the lucky winner?” He chucked.

“You tell me.” You beamed at him as you pulled out the larger than life knot-tie blanket you’d made, and Johnny’s jaw dropped.

“You did not!” He gasped, chuckling at he inspected it. One side was the Ghost fabric you’d found, and the other was made from the softest army green material you could find. In the top corner. You’d stitched in a small British Flag patch, and each corner has a sandbag sewn in.“You made him a bloody weighted blanket? What gave you that idea?” He asked.

“We’ll I couldn’t find anything I thought he’d like at first, but then I saw the fabric and it just fell together so perfectly!”

“Oh man, I would kill to see his reaction to this,” Johnny said, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“You say that like we ever get to see his reaction to anything,” you stated. You’d never actually seen him without some sort of face covering.

Johnny tisked softly and shrugged. “Alright, you got me there,” he admitted. “He’s in his room now, probably as good a time as any.”

You couldn’t help but grin broadly. “Perfect.”

~

You felt a lump form in your throat as you approached Ghost’s door. You knew it was just the nerves that came along with your little crush on the Lieutenant, but it still made the task at hand a little daunting.

You took a deep breath, knocking softly on the door. Maybe you should have wrapped it for him. What if he didn’t like it? How were you supposed to react if he just brushed you off.

The door opened before you could rethink your decision. It always came as a shock how large Ghost was, no matter how many times you stood mask to face.

“You’re back.”

You felt your heart rate spike. He had noticed you were gone? Had noticed you? Of course he had noticed, it was his job to notice, it didn’t mean anything.

“Yeah,” you said, waiting for him to ask how your trip was, or if you were glad to be back. He didn’t.

“I got you something!” You said suddenly, holding the folded blanket out to him, and his entire body seemed to freeze. He stared at it for a moment or two, as if he were slowly processing the object.

“What is it?”

Your smile faltered. “It’s a weighted blanket,” you said as he inspected it as if it were some kind of trick. “It’s a weighted blanket,” you said as he took it carefully from your hands.

“Where’d you get it?”

Shit, he hates it.

“I- Uhm. I made it,” you admitted, your cheeks blazing. This was stupid. You were stupid.

He looked between you and the blanket in his hands, and nodded. “Thanks,” he said before stepping back into his room and closing the door.

You pressed your lips together firmly in an attempt to not start bawling. You walked off on shaky legs, taking deep breaths. At least he hadn’t told you he didn’t want it.

~

Simon sat on his bed, his thumb brushed over the small flag patched into the corner of the blanket. The fact that you had made him a gift by hand had his stomach in knots. He knew about your little gift tradition with the rest of 141, but he hadn’t expected to be included, nor did he expected you’d go to such trouble. The two of you weren’t even very close.

He swallowed thickly as tears pricked his eyes. This was the nicest thing any teammate had ever given him.

He brought the fabric to his face and gave it a deep whiff. It smelled fresh, like laundry detergent. You must have washed it before you gave it to him.

Simon spread the blanket carefully over his cot, admiring how the fabric felt against his hands. It didn’t catch on his calloused fingers, and wasn’t too fluffy.

It was large too, as if you’d taken his massive size into account. He was certain he could easily caving himself in it. His bottom lip wobbled slightly, and it was an effort to hold his tears at bay.

That night, Simon slept soundly, wrapped in your carefully crafted gift, and you were the only thing on his mind.

AN: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 11

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, arguments. Angst. Toxic behavior. Johnny is struggling. Everyone is going through it. Johnny struggles.

"No contact?!" Johnny chokes, and you hesitate on the other end of the line, sharp breath rattling through the speaker phone. 

“My… my therapist thinks it would be good, to try it. For thirty days. Just to see how I feel.” Johnny’s fingers stretch across the front pocket of his pants. 

Thirty days? 

You’ve already been gone five, and it feels like five years.

He balks. No. No, this. This can't be. You have to be home, with them. Where you belong. Where they can fix it. 

“Ye… no, I thought… I thought this was just a break?” He doesn’t recognize his voice. It’s ragged and torn to shreds, and now fear makes it tremble. 

What does this mean? 

“It is, it is. I just… I have to try this.” You sound as sad, as fucked up as he does, and he wants to scream, throw the phone against the wall, say screw it all to hell and go over to your rental, bang on the door until you let them inside. 

“Of course, darling.” Simon soothes, and Johnny stares at him like he's lost his grasp on reality. Of course? Of course?! “We understand, we… we can do that. We’ll do whatever you want.” 

“No.” Johnny cuts in, he can’t stop himself, can’t control his mouth. He can’t agree to this, to not talking to you, or seeing you for thirty days. He can’t do it. “I-“

“ Johnny.” 

“Johnny-“ You both say his name at the same time. Yours is a plea. Simon’s is cautionary, finger seeking the mute button, cutting you out of the conversation for a split second, long enough for him to utter a warning. 

“Do not push her on this. We need to let her decide right now. She’s in control.” 

“Hello?”

“We’re here.” Simon assures you, unmuting the phone. “We understand. No contact, thirty days. Will you reach out, afterwards?” 

“I… I will, I promise.” 

“And you’ll take care of yourself?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, a gulp. Simon’s façade cracks, enough that Johnny can see the fear that lurks there, the worry. 

“Ye-yeah. I am. I will.” 

“Will you come to bed?”

Johnny’s thumbs press together, overlapping where his fingers stay knitted tight, grasping onto one another like he’s holding onto himself for dear life.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in and then releases it slowly through his nose. It’s a self-soothing technique, one he’s seen you do a million times. But once he’s done, his response is no less acidic. “I cannae sleep.”

Silence is his answer, until-

“Johnny.” Simon’s forearm wraps across his shoulders, pulling him backwards from the stool and into the cushiony warmth of his chest, heat burning into his back. Simon’s always been a furnace, a giant, weighted, heated blanket, his touch one of safety, security. Care.

But right now, all it feels like is anguish.  

“Si.” He croaks, tears welling up behind his eyes. “I cannae do this any longer. I cannae… I need her back.”

“We need to be patient, and respect-“

“Respect?” Johnny blurts, incredulous. “No, No, I… We should be there, right now. We should be standing outside her door, we should be fightin’ for her, nae sitting ‘ere, waiting. Showin’ her how much she means; how sorry we are.” The warmth pulls away, an exasperated sigh blowing across the back of his neck.

“I’m not having this conversation again.” Simon is curt, growing cold, and it fuels the burning rage building inside Johnny’s stomach.

“Of course, because why would ye? It’s already settled in yer mind, isn’t it? That we just sit here, and wait, and let her slip away because ye coudnae keep yer mouth shut!” He’s said the same thing a thousand different ways over these last three weeks. Dressed Simon up and down six ways to Sunday over it, different verbiage each time.

The conversation always ends the same.

“Can you forgive me?” 

“Of course I can but I’m still mad at ye.” 

The anger foils away, ebbing into sadness, despair, and Johnny’s sight goes black when he buries his face in his hands.

“I miss her.” He whispers to the floor. The warmth returns and wraps him in a snug embrace, soft words hummed against the shell of his ear, each one punctuated with a kiss.

“I know, I know you do. I do too.”

“You nearly got yourself blown up!” Simon roars, and Johnny nearly flinches, steeling himself against his partner’s anger. “You can’t be makin’ stupid decisions like that. You jeopardized-“ 

“I knew what I was doin’. Dinnae question me, ye dinnae know anything about the tech behind those explosives, and ye know it.” He stands a little straighter, indignant, insulted, and Simon’s eyes narrow, before squinting, tension shoving his shoulders down in a slump. 

This isn’t like them. They’re always in lock step. One unit. One person, two hearts.  

The cot creaks beneath Simon’s weight, elbows against his knees. 

“Johnny, what’s going on?” 

“What do ye mean?” Dirty, cheap laminate flooring stares up at him, patterns in the grit swirling together like sand. 

“You’re not yourself. Price mentioned-“ 

“Ye and Price talkin’ ‘bout me?” Unsettled anger rattles him, immediate demand rising through his blood. Simon holds his hand up. 

“No. He was concerned, said you were a little rash the other day, on the recon. Asked if everything was alright.” He blinks. Blinks over and over, tries to quash the surging agony, the upheaval of his stomach. He fights it, tries to breathe through it, tries to stop it in his tracks, but a big grip wraps around his wrist, and tugs. 

He’s settled into Simon’s lap without another word, his nose to his neck, fingers stroking through his mohawk. 

“It’s going to be alright. You’re alright. We’re going to get her back, love.” 

“I cannae do this. Ye dinnae know-“ 

“I know.” He squeezes him, calming him, and Johnny melts a little, sharp blade of the pain turning dull. “I know that the best thing we can do right now is be patient, and respect what she’s asked us to do. When she’s ready, she’ll let us know, and we’ll do everything we can, to try to fix it. To make it better.” 

“I feel like there’s a hole-“ His hand rubs his chest, over and over, until the skin burns. “Like there’s a piece missing. I dinnae think I can do it, without her.” His voice breaks, and Simon’s attempt to calm him comes out like a strangled cry. “It hurts, Si.” 

“We won’t. We just have to be patient, Johnny. We have to. We have to show her we can do it.” Simon murmurs, and then they both slip into a sad silence, Johnny huffing through his tears against Simon’s chest until he’s dragging them both down into the little cot, escaping into the comfort of uneasy sleep. 

The flat is too quiet.

Lately, he’s been putting your favorite movies on in the small hours of the morning. Simon sleeps in now, restless until the sun starts to come up, and then he finally sinks beneath pull of dreams, or nightmares, whichever comes first.

So, Johnny curls up on the couch by himself, with your favorite tea, flip flopping between the rotation of movies that you always had rolling in the background, when you were painting, when you were cooking, or even reading.

But today, he paces. Back and forth from the bedroom, the kitchen, to the art room, the one you left half barren, the one that still holds nearly finished paintings, dried tubes of paint, stiff bristled brushes, long discarded for new ones, but not thrown away.

“I’m going to the gym, want to come?” Simon is hovering just outside the door, brows fixed together. He hasn’t stepped foot in here, Johnny has noticed, not since you left nearly a month ago. In fact, he avoids this room like the plague.

“No, ye go on.”

“You sure?” His head cocks in consideration, and then he nods.

“Yeah. Love ye.”

“Love you too. Be good.”

“Where the bloody hell have ye been?” Johnny seethes, arms crossed. Their half-eaten plates still sit cold on the table, mocking him since Simon left in the middle of the meal an hour ago. 

“Out. For a walk.” The hoodie comes up and over his shoulders, and Johnny catches a whiff of it.

Cigarette smoke.

“A walk, eh? Ye out walkin’, and smoking?”

“Johnny.”

“Dinnae Johnny me, ye’ve been smoking, I can smell it.”

“I don’t want to do this right now.” He snaps, turning his back, heading into the bedroom, the bathroom.

“Ye dinnae want to do what?”

“This. Fight. Argue.” The shower clicks on, steam slowly building from the floor as Simon shucks his joggers, his boxers, Johnny’s eyes struggling to stay fixed on his partner’s face.

“I’m not arguing, I… I dinnae understand how ye can be so casual about this, it’s-“ 

“What am I supposed to do?” Simon turns on him, still angry, still hurt from their conversation earlier. It brews beneath the surface like a finely veiled stormed, just barely held back. “Lose my head? Fall apart?” 

“I dinnae, talk to me?” Simon’s jaw clenches. Every scar on Simon’s back speaks to him, tells him stories, corroborates his witness accounts. Johnny wishes he could take them away; wishes he could kiss them. 

But Simon feels so far away now. He’s felt miles away since you left, since the bed slept three, table slept three, couch held three. 

“I’m right here, Si. I’m here.”

Johnny knows what he’s doing is wrong. He’s fully self-aware, but completely out of control. His legs carry him down the street on autopilot, barrage of requests and demands from his rational self trying to break through the encasement where he’s locked them away.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t. 

He can’t help it. He can’t do this… anymore. It’s killing him. It’s killing Si.

He worries it’s killing you.

He tells himself he’s just going to check on you, make sure you’re okay. He’s not going to bother you, just make you’re alive. He’s not going to stay, he’s just going to say hi, ensure you’re safe, healthy, and then leave.

If you even open the door.

Guilt, anxiety, fear all turns over in his stomach, freezing through his blood as he climbs the stairs to your long term rental. He just needs to see you, needs lay eyes on you, just once, and it will all be okay. He’ll be okay, once he knows you’ll be okay.

Simon is going to be so bloody pissed. He grimaces. He knows there will be hell to pay. That Simon will be enraged, disappointed. That he’ll be upset.

They made a promise. He made a promise. 

And now he’s going to break it, just like that.

He stands outside your door for too long, contemplating. Trying to sift through every decision he’s ever made, that led him to this point. He could still turn around, still go home, even though his finger is itching to ring the bell, a burning desire searing through his mind, urging him forward until his forehead is thunking softly against the wood, eyes closing.

Darling.

He can still see your face, your smile. The ways your eyes light up, the way your voice sounds when you say his name.

“I need ye, we need ye.” He whispers to no one, and then his finger presses the button, breath holding in his chest.

A few seconds pass. He strains to listen, latching onto the sound of footsteps inside, the click of a lock, the creak of the hinges, and then the door opens wide, revealing you on the other side.

“Darling.” You’re haunted, a flicker of a memory, a sharpened shadow sawing into the soft matter of his brain. You blink like you're trying to clear your vision, like you're struggling to see him, and he offers you an uneasy smile, something nervous and unsettled. You shake your head, mouth open in surprise, confusion, eyes wide.

“Johnny.”

[mochiwrites]

couldn’t help writing a lil thing from @plumadot’s arts (linked here and here!)🥺👉👈 third life scarian possessed me so hard I broke out of my burn out for this reblogs would be really cool and awesome okaythankyou

——————————

“And how are preparations for Doom Day going, my good sir?” Scar’s voice is a light sound behind him, tone cheerful and inquisitive all at once.

Grian turns around from where he’s knee deep in sand, a small hole dug out in front of him. Scar comes to stand beside him, red eyes staring down at him. His gaze is soft, far too soft for a man who’s meant to be anything but.

With a soft noise, Grian pushes himself up to stand while dusting off his hands. He leaves his shovel in the ground by the hole. His wings flutter.

He hums, surveying the area. He gazes at the holes of sand, where the tnt will be set down, at the place where a bunker will be built. “Not bad, I’d say. I think this place’ll be ready by tomorrow or some time ‘round then.”

Scar whistles, moving to casually wrap an arm around the green life’s shoulders. “Amayzin’!” His lips lift in a smile. “Man, those Dogwarts guys won’t know what hit ‘em!”

“That’s if this trap even works, Scar,” Grian mutters, unable to hold back the bitterness in his voice. His traps have hardly worked all game, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t worried about this one failing too. “It has to,” he says, brows knitting together, “there’s too much riding on this one.”

His eyes trail over to Scar, who doesn’t seem to share his worries.

“Aw, c’mon G,” Scar starts as he pulls the other toward him. He tugs so that Grian’s facing him, their faces a few inches apart. Grian can feel how warm Scar is this close, can see the way his chest rises and falls. “I have total trust in you and your trapping skills. So relax a little, yeah?”

Grian frowns at him in turn. Speculation and trust aren’t good enough when up against his fail rate. He needs one hundred percent certainty. But he can’t just test this one. It’s a one time pull. “Scar—”

Careful fingers grab his chin, rough and calloused from the harsh conditions of the desert but still far too careful. Red names aren’t supposed to be careful or gentle, and yet here Scar is.

“I trust you,” Scar says again, and Grian doesn’t think this is how things are supposed to go. It’s not the first time he’s had this thought, and he’s sure it won’t be the last (provided they both survive this, that is). “You really do worry too much.”

“One of us has to while you’re off gallivanting around without a shirt on,” Grian grumbles while reaching for the edge of Scar’s cloak. He holds onto it, fingers digging into the fabric.

Scar lifts a playful brow at Grian’s comment, “Does that mean I look good while valligaggling?”

Grian snorts, the action laced with too much affection. “That’s not even a word, Scar,” he replies with a little laugh, one that makes Scar’s grin widen.

“It’s close enough,” the man hums in answer, their faces moving closer. His hand drops to Grian’s elbow, the other drawing him in closer by the waist. Red eyes flutter shut as his breath ghosts over Grian’s lips. “And it made you laugh.”

“Your priorities are seriously mixed up,” Grian’s voice is hardly above a whisper as watches as Scar draws in closer.

Their lips meet seconds later, chapped and warm. Grian stares at Scar’s face, the way the creases in his forehead smooth over and relax. He looks so content, a funny feeling to express when the powder keg is seconds from exploding.

It hardly takes any time at all for Scar to deepen the kiss, raising his hand from Grian’s elbow to hold the edge of his jaw. His thumb settles too close to Grian’s throat, yet not an ounce of fear runs through him. His eyes shut as he presses his lips back against Scar’s, a bit more pressure than the other applies. He catches Scar’s wrist in his hand, and his grip is a little tight at first (too tight for a green name). He has to remind himself to loosen his hand, but Scar never gives a reaction.

He simply angles Grian’s chin up slightly, hand shifting to cup his cheek. His fingers tangle in his hair, brushing against his ear.

It’s kind of a shame they’re blowing up the desert. He wouldn’t mind sharing more kisses with Scar out in the open chilly air like this.

Scar kisses him like he’s something fragile, something precious. He kisses him like he’s afraid of breaking him, and really it’s laughable how gentle he is with Grian. His eyes say he shouldn’t be.

(Ironic then, that Grian is wearing more red than him.)

It’s with a soft sigh that Scar pulls back, setting their foreheads against one another. So easily, so fluidly, he holds Grian’s face in both of his hands, one of his thumbs brushing along his cheek. There’s a fond smile on his face, and Grian feels a little dazed by the sight.

“Gri,” Scar says quietly, a moment shared for only the two of them, “I need you to know, I—”

Some kind of alarm rings in Grian’s head, and he knows he cannot let Scar finish that sentence. Panic runs down his spine like electricity, zapping him. He sets his hands on Scar’s front, gently pushing back as he turns his head away.

“H-Haha, we’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?” he questions, some kind of desperate attempt to change the conversation. “We have a war to prepare for, remember?”

He doesn’t watch Scar’s face as he turns away, unable to face it. He turns his back to Scar, wings twitching behind him. Grian purposefully looks down at the sand before him, reminding himself of what he’s meant to be doing. “We, uh, have much to do still,” he says, trying to focus on anything but Scar. “I mean, unless you want me to lose my first life!”

Grian goes to say more, but two hands land on his shoulders, stopping him. He jumps just slightly, startled. Yet it doesn’t last long as he feels Scar’s warmth against his back. “…Scar,” he mumbles.

Arms wrap around him proper, holding him close. He feels Scar bury his face in his hair as the smell of lilacs and poppies flood his senses. “Just a little longer, okay?” the red name murmurs so softly.

Let me hold you for a little longer.

Stay with me for a little longer.

Pretend this’ll last for a little longer.

How selfish, Scar is. Grian looks down at the sand below, its mocking grains. He grabs hold of Scar, keeping him right where he is. “…I’m not going to die, Scar.”

“Promise me.” Scar’s arms tighten around him, giving away how much he needs Grian to stay alive. How much he treasures Grian, both his partnership and company.

Grian squeezes him. He supposes he’s a little selfish as well. “…I promise.”

Scar lets out a shaky breath, burying his face further into Grian’s hair.

They don’t move for a little while. A gentle red name and a green name clothed in far too much crimson. Together they stand, selfishly.

[ink-n-shadowfiction]

Hi, do you write smut? If so, please listen to me 🫣

Just Ghost away from reader for more than a week, and he misses her very much, so he calls her. In the middle of the conversation, she can hear moans and sighs coming from him and the rest you already know👀

using translator again :^

Btw can i be anon - 🫀? (Idk how to ask💀)

I Know What You're Doing | Simon "Ghost" Riley

another anon added to my list <3 thank you for the request ;-;

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

word count: 866

warning: smut (minors—DNI), phone sex, simon doesn't tell fem!reader what he's doing at first, mutual masturbation, mentions of unprotected sex (pls wrap it up guys), sweet!simon

note: this is so unedited and i'm half-asleep so pls don't judge

eight days, thirteen hours, and forty-seven minutes. that's how long it had been since simon had left for deployment. not like you were counting.

it was only a day and six hours longer than the last time he called you. not that you were mad—you knew better than to expect simon to risk his life to simply call while in the middle of a warzone. which is why you waited, although impatiently.

so as soon as you were curled up on the couch midday, lounging with a book in your hand and glasses perched on your nose, and you saw simon's contact flicker across your vibrating phone on the coffee table, you practically pounced on it. your fingers fumbled with the call button as you brought the smart phone to your ear. "hello?"

a soft hum filled the other line, a comforting hum that sent tendrils of warmth and familiarity spreading through your gut. "hey, sweet thing." from over the phone, you could hear the crickets and cicadas surrounding simon, a cacophony of noise that was only drowned out by his gravelly rumble.

"did you make it alright?" you asked softly as you rested back against the arm of the couch, pushing your bookmark into the spine of your book and snapping it shut.

simon let out another long puff of air, taking a small moment to answer. "aye—we're fine, lovie. no need to worry that pretty little head, 'lright? now tell me what you did so far today—just wanna hear you talk for a bit."

beneath the blanketing noise of cicadas and crickets, you could hear a soft, rhythmic schlick, schlick noise—one that you knew all to well.

simon was definitely fucking his cock up into his fist.

“i know what you’re doin’.” you whispered over the phone softly, sinking deeper into the leather of your couch and pulling the knitted blanket you had draped over your lap higher. “i can hear it.”

your words forced a low groan from simon’s mouth, almost sounding like a growl with how close he was to the cellphone microphone. the rhythm of his hand slicking up and down his heated skin ramped up in tempo. “oh yeah? and what d'ya hear, sweet girl?”

everything. you could hear the way simon’s spit-soaked fingers squelched a bit around the girth of his cock. you could hear the way he twisted his wrist ever so slightly near the tip, just enough to have his hips canting up at the sensation. you could hear every pant, moan, growl that threatened to spill from his lips, to escape the cage of his mouth like a starved tiger.

"y'know you could've just told me, right?" you breathed softly into the phone, eyes fluttering closed as your brain scrambled to create an image of what simon might've looked like in that moment. " i would've started sayin' filthy things a long time ago."

"c'mon, lovie—y'know i don't last long with that dirty little fuckin' mouth of yours." simon scoffed out a pinched laugh, letting it bleed out into a soft groan as he squeezed the base of his cock to keep himself from busting then and there. "miss you. miss havin' you here with me."

it was your turn to let out a soft laugh and teasing words. "you're just saying that because your cock's throbbing right now."

simon growled at your words, the pace of his hand slicking up and down his arousal growing ever quicker, faster, needier. your filthy words were working."not true. i miss you even when m'not trying to fuckin' cum, lovie."

"i can tell you're close, si." you purred over the phone, your free hand trailing down the front of your body and hooking around the waistband of the sweatpants you were wearing. pulling them down to your mid thighs, your fingers slid into the fabric of your panties with a soft hiss. "your breathing gets all heavy. you get all growly, all loving and soft. you wanna cum, huh?"

"god." simon all but whimpers, hips stuttering slightly in their rhythm as he forced his cock up into his open palm. "y'know me so well, lovie. so. fuckin'. well—fuck, need to cum. wanna cum for you, sweetheart."

the pads of your fingers slipped and slid around your wet heat, bumbling slightly against your clit as you tried to focus solely on pushing simon over the edge. your lips curled into a devious smirk. "yeah? wish you could be here while you cum—maybe i'd let you fill me up this time. oh—yeah, you like that, huh? just wanna fuck me till i'm leaking and dripping with you, huh?"

simon couldn't even give you a warning that he was about to cum, instead just letting out a chest-ripping growl as he finally plunged over the edge. his breathing was ragged, filled with uneven potholes that caused his breath to catch in his chest.

the squelching and schlicking noise had subsided, replaced by simon regaining his composure and your soft, panted breath. you were certain you were being quiet as you stroked your wet heat with the tips of your fingers—that was until simon spoke up huskily.

“i know what you’re doin’. lovie.”

[lxvvie]

Maybe Simon going to a like a mandated knitting circle and just meets you.... as he is getting flirted with my grandmas (My what a strong boi)

Just imagine Simon meeting the reader through the knitting group and then it becomes a group-wide effort to push the two together because they'd be so cute as a couple. This is so sugary-sweet that I should write about it.

But anywho!

Simon was forced to go because the guys said he was "too on edge" and that he "needed a good stress reliever".

He's an anomaly in a sea of adorably gossipy meemaws who think it's absolutely delightful that some of the youth are still interested in knitting. And hey, at least he can learn to patch his shit up when it gets torn.

Because of this, he also experiences the following:

Being called everything from 'poppet', 'dearie', 'sweetheart', 'honey', and... Silas (he lets it slide because what the hell). Flusters him more than he cares to admit.

Getting the latest gossip. If Simon thought shit on base was scandalous, the stuff he hears in his knitting group of ALL places took the fucking cake.

Finding camaraderie in their life stories; some of the women he met had close family members who served and/or they served themselves.

Said adorable meemaws playing matchmaker. Oh yeah, they have plenty of grandkids and grandniblings who would love a strapping young man such as him. Oh, fucking hell...

Simon finds out that some of the women have taken to jokingly calling him their "knitting husband". He may or may not have considered giving them Price's number in revenge lmao.

Never going without baked goods. Ever. Fuck, they're spoiling him rotten with all the sweets they send him home with.

Becoming more attached to the group than he expected; Ghost continues to go long after he's required to. Imagine the look on everyone else's faces when Simon leaves for their meeting saying that he has to go see about his girls. Or something like that. The fuck's so funny, Johnny?

[diejager]

Hello hellooooooo

I hope you are doing great !!

(I was waiting patiently for your requests to be open again lmao)

So, my brain was just thinking of something for monster!141 and I just need to share it somewhere 😵‍💫

As you may know, penguins' love language is giving pebbles to their loved ones

Penguin hybrid!Hunter just giving monster!141 pebbles and little rocks to show them that they love them 🥹

Alright, I'll go back to my knitting now BYE

*gets out by the window with a parachute*

Pebbles Cw: weird courting, tell me if I missed any.

You didn’t have any noticeable differences to a human, having the appearance of any human with a some quirky and funny behavioural traits that all of them enjoyed. You had your moments of oddity, but you didn’t seem that far from a human, having no tail, ear or horns, your skin as smooth and soft as any. They dropped their suspicions of you being a hybrid, a monster or even an inter dimensional creature of some unknown source.

And somehow, they find small trinkets - small, round pebbles picked out of a bunch to be perfectly rounded, smooth edges and glistening under the light, and sticks, long and robust, but small enough to sneak into the base without being caught - placed in the areas they often found themselves frequenting.

Price would find a cluster of pebbles on his desk, arranged neatly in a ring, a curious little thing that he shrugged off, putting them away for the time he’d be able to catch the culprit red handed in the act. Price chucked it up to being Soap and Gaz pulling a prank on him, an unsuspecting and benign trick for a little laugh between them, he didn’t bother with it too much.

Ghost found his small collection of sticks and rock on the books he liked to read, placed near the corner of his desk in his office, the arrangement was neither crude nor clean, it was a chaotic abstraction that he didn’t understand.He didn’t know what to make of it, no one would be brave enough - stupid enough - to pull something like this on him and on his stuff without knowing the risks they put themselves in.

Soap and Gaz had a few placed that belonged to them alone, like their rooms or their locker in the armoury, small areas that everyone knew was theirs. Gaz was the first of the two to find flowers and pebbles in the top compartment of his locker, picked with utmost care to keep the petal from bending. Soap found his collection of sticks and flowers stitched in a pretty crown placed around the collar of his vest, a little present full of romance and adoration. Both of them couldn’t help but find this weird act endearing.

Until Price saw you rush out of his office, a sweet, love-filled smile plastered on your face as if you’d been given the miracle of your life. If he pushed the thought farther, he could almost see a little tail wagging behind you, oh so overzealous and overjoyed with something you did. Peaked by it, he looked into his room and caught the bright petals of a daisy gently placed in the middle of a wreath of stick. He looked at it with a renewed aww and curiosity, feeling your affection roll of your intricate design, made and catered to him as if you’d made each and every single one of his boys a little courting gift-

It was an instinctual courting behaviour seen in monsters and hybrids alike. It stopped him in his tracks, causing him to question himself and your file, he’d been sure that you were human through and through, holding not a single ounce of monster blood in your veins, you’d done tests. Tests, he had to remind himself that these tests were - despite being physical and DNA tests - noted down if the recipient had any traits deemed worthwhile, something useful in the minds of a battle or in a dogfight.

That would give reason to some missing holes in your file, the little things that made you so charmingly you in every aspect was missing from your papers, reserved for people who came to know you. It warmed his heart, to see you so comfortable with them that you ended up forging such strong, emotional connections that you started giving them gifts. He’d have to take it up with the other boys, tell them what he just found out: your little, courting gifts, your hybrid roots that they could explore and your lovable smile when you’d successfully given your gift, and see where they would go from there.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @mixplara @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @stay-088 @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

[thewordypeach]

Cream

Cream (Milk)

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader word count: 2.9k warnings: 18+, NSFW!!!!, smut! smut! smut!, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v = creampie, oral, titty sucking and titty fucking, (lactation kink), implied breeding kink, squirting, etc. summary: Joel needs his thirst quenched, and only one thing in this world can do it - author's note: ummm … so this sequel had me questioning my life choices. like i do not know what possessed me to take it this far lol so you better blow it up like you did with ‘Milk’ 🤭 anyways, i hope you like it <3 xoxo the wordy peach

It begins with: “You’ll never guess what they’re playing at movie night,” 

You look at Joel, a single eyebrow raised. Joel wolfishly grins, his brown eyes sparkling, “Austin Powers and the Spy Who Shagged Me,” 

He watches as your eyebrows knit together in confusion. Joel can’t believe you don’t remember the conversation from last week, the one that had you confessing to him that you felt like one of those fembots from the aforementioned movie. He steps closer, head dipping to your ear, whispering: “Machine gun titties,” 

That’s all it takes for you to remember. And it has your cheeks flushing pink. Sheepishly, you smile at him. But, of course, the cock block herself pipes up: “The spy who what?”

Ellie, you spunky little shithead. You love her to death. You never want her to grow up. But lately, she’s been ruining your alone time with Joel. You know she just wants to be a part of the family, and she is. It never even crossed your mind to think otherwise. She’s the daughter you never had. Sometimes you wish she’d just go and make friends that aren’t you or Joel. 

You look at Joel, waiting for him to answer. But Joel is expectantly gazing at you. A playful smirk ghosts across his lips. He thinks it’s your duty to explain the birds, the bees, and everything between them to Ellie. Of course, she knows most of it. But she questions absolutely everything. Just yesterday, you had the unfortunate experience of explaining anal to her; Joel walked out of the house when she asked and didn’t return until later. 

You poke a finger into Joel’s chest, hissing at him, “It’s your turn,” 

His face goes slack before he gives you a sullen look. He pouts those luscious lips of his, “But darlin'….” 

“Don't darlin' me, mister. You owe me for yesterday,” 

Joel continues to pout but eventually relents. He turns to Ellie with a face void of any emotion: “It’s a classic movie from the 2000s,” 

“Yeah, but what does shagged mean?” Ellie asks. Her eyes look between you and Joel, waiting for an answer. Joel grows uncomfortable. He’s never been one to talk about this kind of stuff. 

“Yeah, Joel. What does shagged mean?” You ask. 

“It- it… it means…” Joel stutters and stumbles over the words. His face is turning pink. He looks flustered as he searches for the right thing to say. You’re enjoying him floundering around. In one great, big breath, Joel spills out: “It’s a British slang term for intercourse,” 

Ellie blinks at him several times as she repeats what Joel just said to her. She starts chuckling, “Shagged means sex?!” Ellie turns into a mess of laughter. She’s clutching her sides. It’s not that funny. But you like watching her have fun. It brings back the innocence and reminds you of childhood. You were young when the movie came out, and the world was ravaged by fungus a few years after. So you cherish this moment of hilarity. You rub your tummy and smile at how much fun you will have raising this new baby with Joel and Ellie -

You don’t make it to movie night because you’re busy with the nursery, and the thought of walking all the way to town hall makes you cringe. You don’t like going anywhere unless it is essential. You make Joel and Ellie do everything for you. There are still some things you do yourself.

You insist Joel and Ellie go. Ellie doesn’t fight it (she’s so excited to watch a piece of history), but Joel grumbles about it. He wants to stay and help. By helping, Joel means he wants to milk you. He can’t stop helping you, and it’s the only thing on his mind - Joel swears he even dreams about it now. However, there hasn’t been a single moment for him to help you. Tommy has Joel doing everything and anything, and between his brother and Ellie, Joel hasn’t had time for his new hobby. 

So, after he drops Ellie off at the movie (making sure that she is settled and making sure that Tommy will bring her home after), Joel leaves and makes his way back to you. He wants to spend every free minute with you, but more importantly, this is the perfect opportunity to do what he’s been dreaming of without any interruptions. Joel needs his thirst quenched, and only one thing in this world can do it -

You hear him before you see him, and then you feel him. His arms wrap around your body, and he presses his chest into your back. You sink into the warmth, eyes closing and throat humming. His hands briefly touch your stomach before they find their rightful place. Joel cups your tits, placing each of them into his hands, and marvels at the heaviness. So full of his special cream. 

“They’ve gotten bigger, haven’t they?” Joel murmurs. His cock is already hard and straining inside his pants. Hell, on the walk home, the prospect of milking you had him almost cumming right then and there. 

“They’re definitely heavier,” Joel adds as he squeezes them. He notices you aren’t wearing a bra, and with one simple motion, he has his shirt on the floor (the only one that fits you). You’re facing him now, chest and belly exposed. The sight of you has him losing it. Joel feels happy and excited, and everything in between that. Joel can’t believe that you're his, and he’s yours. Nor can he believe his eyes because your tits are definitely bigger, and your nipples are already dewy with that milky nectar he loves so much. 

Joel groans, latches his mouth onto your right side, and starts suckling like a starved man. Your nipple is already stiff and responsive, and you feel the sensation of milk rushing through to meet your partner’s greedy tongue. His hand expertly kneads the pillowy flesh, expressing even more of the sweet cream that has him hard as a rock. Joel starts to breathe deeper and sucks harder, causing you to moan. 

Your fingers comb through Joel’s hair, and you hold him there because the pleasure of having Joel drain your tits is undeniable; in fact, the more Joel sucks and licks your nipple, the more your arousal grows. You have to remind him, “Joel…. We have less than ninety minutes -”

He grunts in response and moves his mouth to the other side he’s been neglecting. The feeling is indescribable, and you relish it. The relief Joel is giving you is insurmountable. But it also has you growing impatient with him. Your core is aching for his cock, and your hands travel over his body. You feel his muscles, thick and robust, beneath the plaid shirt. You need him now. 

“Joel,” Your hand drops to the bulge in his jeans, and you gently rub it with purpose. The friction makes Joel groan, finally lifting his head from your tits. His eyes are filled with a dazy lustiness that makes you fumble with your words. Still, it doesn’t matter because Joel is suddenly pressing his lips against yours and kissing you with an ardour that makes you forget everything you are about to say. 

You taste the substance that has Joel acting ravenous. It reminds you of cereal milk because it’s so sweet. You part from his lips, whispering, “Can I taste you now?” 

He doesn’t have time to answer because you’re already lowering yourself to your knees, planting them on the ground in front of Joel. With one hand, you pop open the buttons of his jeans and pull down the zipper. Roughly, you tug at the opening and watch as his thick, luscious cock springs free from its confines. At the sight of it, you lick your lips. Your fingers wrap around his length and slide over his stiffness. The movement makes Joel shiver, and when your lips finally touch his cock, a groan escapes from his throat.

Joel has been so concerned about making you feel good that he forgot to consider himself. Suddenly, you thrust him inside your mouth while twisting your hand down his cock. He quickly fills your mouth, and his hand grasps your hair in hopes of controlling you. However, he’s fine with letting you have your way right now. It’s been a while since you had the opportunity to please him; Joel loves how the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you’re so adept at sucking him off that his length doesn’t make you gag anymore  - 

Expertly, you glide your mouth from the hilt to the tip of Joel’s cock, coating it in your saliva. Joel’s eyes nearly roll into his head because it feels so fucking good. It’s the only thing he can tell you because he’s almost lost his mind from the bliss of your mouth sheathing his cock. You don’t stop until Joel gasps for air and asks you to stop. 

“Babe, babe, babe,” His voice is husky, and he roughly pulls on your hair. You gasp and gaze up at him with a thick string of spit connecting your lips to his cock. Joel quivers at the sight and has to remember what he will say. You wait patiently. Obediently. 

Breathlessly, he asks, “Do you want me to fuck you here? Or…”

Without skipping a beat, you reply, “Here,” 

Joel doesn’t need to be told twice and is quick to shed his jeans before he starts to help you. You lean forward onto the palm of your hands and watch as Joel goes behind and begins to slide off the sweatpants you’re always wearing. Not that Joel minds. He knows it’s the only thing that fits you because you remind him every damn day. Once the sweatpants are off, he tosses them to the side and stares lovingly at your ass. It’s so round and perky and panty-less. He’s genuinely surprised, and it makes him smile. 

He caresses your fleshy cheeks, asking, “Is this for me?”

Joel can’t see your face but can tell you are blushing. Sheepishly, you admit, “As soon as you left, I took them off - for easy access,”

“Oh, darlin’,” He swoons, “You’re so sweet to think of me,”

Joel pries your sweet cheeks apart and buries his face, his tongue immediately swirling around your puckered asshole. Mewls spill forth from your mouth, and you wiggle your hips, trying to splay them apart because your body needs more. Joel’s tongue slithers down, lapping the juice practically pouring out of your needy, swollen cunt. He licks and sucks with wild abandon, groaning at your deliciousness. He doesn’t stop until you are begging him, “Joel, fuck me. Fuck me with your big cock, please. Oh god, fuck me, already!”

He removes his mouth from your exterior and replaces it with his cock. He rubs and rubs his bulbous crown between your molten wetness, gliding it back and forth until it’s coated with your slickness. When he thinks it’s enough, he pushes into your tight cunt. At first, your channel is resistant. But slowly, your velvety walls happily start devouring Joel’s cock until his entire length basks in the warmth. 

You are gasping at the sensation of being stretched out. It’s almost too much in this position, and a small rock of Joel’s hips gives way to your first orgasm. Your vision swirls as a wave of ecstasy comes crashing through. Your fingers grip the carpet as your cunt swells and clenches his cock. Your back arches as you cry out, “Fuck, Joel,”

Immediately, he stops, thinking he has hurt you or the baby. Panic-stricken, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“N-n-nothing,” You stutter out, attempting to catch your breath. Your lungs greedily suck in the air, saturated with the smell of sex. You tell him, “You made me cum,”

“Already?” He murmurs and devilishly thinks about the five times he made you cum last week. Joel rocks his hips again, and you whimper at the movement. At a glacial pace, Joel pulls out before sliding back in and burying his cock to the hilt. You’re gripping the carpet and moaning like crazy. He’s sure the neighbours can hear you, which drives Joel forward. He wants them to know how good he is at fucking you. 

Joel grabs your hips, nails sinking into the fleshy bits, and plows in and out of your pussy. He’s pulling all the way out and pushing all the way in, ensuring you feel every inch of his girthy length. Your body is rocking beneath his, tits swaying like udders. You reach between your legs to touch your clit. It’s pulsating and yearning to be touched. You gingerly circle it, knowing a light touch is enough to send you over the edge. And you’re right because, within seconds, your second orgasm is rolling through.

You wail, “Joel, Joel, Joel,” but Joel doesn’t stop this time. He continues to youthfully spear your pussy and watches as your creamy juices coat his cock. Vigorously, you rub your clit because a third orgasm is imminent. Your back arches and your hips are high in the air, and Joel stops, pulling out completely, to watch as your pussy trembles with another orgasm. Your thighs are dripping with your juices, and his name still spills out of your mouth. Repeatedly. 

His hand squeezes your hip, “Mmm, darlin’. That’s your third one - should we slow down? Don’t want to hurt -”

“Need more,” You interrupt him, “Need to cum more, Joel,”

Joel shakes his head, “Darlin’,'' He knows you aren’t thinking straight, driven to recklessness because of the pure ecstasy that has raptured your body. You turn over, laying on your back. You splay your legs apart, and your pussy glistens in the light. It’s so swollen, so puffy. Your hand is back, and your fingers are working your clit. But from this angle, it’s a little more challenging because of your protruding belly. And it’s making you frustrated. Especially because Joel is just watching, not helping. 

“Joel,” You growl, “Fuck me,”

A single eyebrow of his shoots up, and you begrudgingly mutter, “Please,”

Much to your surprise, Joel moves. However, instead, he hovers above your chest and settles his cock in the valley of your tits. His hands squeeze them, and the milk for his unborn child sprays out, sprinkling across your chest and hitting his cock. At first, Joel goes slow, his cock passing between your tits. It’s a different kind of friction and holy hell… it feels good. His cock, slippery with your juices and milk, has him gliding through your breasts with ease. He grips harder and fucks your tits faster, rocking his hips back and forth. 

As he slips in and out, he milks your bountiful breasts in the process. He does it until you are soaked. He’s breathing hard, and his balls are tightening. He’s close, so fucking close. But he doesn’t want to finish like this because he knows you want more orgasms, and who is he to deny his pregnant partner? You have been carrying his baby for months, and it hasn’t been easy. And Joel knows that once the baby is born, you won’t be able to have sex for weeks. Not until you’re healed. So, why not let you live a little? 

He pulls his cock out of your cleavage and moves his face to yours, kissing you passionately. His tongue swirls and mingles with yours before he shifts down. Joel latches his mouth around your nipple and practically inhales a gulp of cream into his mouth. He doesn’t swallow and comes back up, kissing you again. Messily, Joel washes your mouth with your milk. It’s sweet and warm, and it’s fucking kinky as hell. It has you moaning into Joel’s mouth. He moans back, letting you know he loves every moment of it too.

As he continues to kiss you, Joel reaches down and takes his cock, sliding it over your puffy and sensitive lips before pressing it into your velvet channel. Your body welcomes him, and your mouth drops, gasping as you effortlessly fit his entire length . Once more, Joel explores your warm depths with a vigorous youthfulness. His flesh is clapping yours over and over until you are yelling his name over and over. Your hands are gripping his forearms, nails digging into his skin. 

“Mmm, Joel, mmm, Joel, gonna cum, Joel, mmm - fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your eyes roll back, and an unwavering fourth climax raptures your body. A euphoric release rolls across your body, and you undulate beneath Joel. He watches as your belly quivers, and he feels your cunt trying to expel him, and when he does finally pull out, a massive bolt of liquid escapes - he realizes you’re squirting. Something he’s only heard rumours about. He’s astonished by the amount of liquid that is coming out and by how long your orgasm is lasting.

Meanwhile, you are gasping for air, lungs greedily gulping it down. You have no idea what happened; all you know is it’s a big wet mess down there. You’re gazing at Joel, cock-drunk. Orgasm-drunk. Your brain is buzzing with satisfaction. Your fixation on cumming has been satiated. However, your partner is still rock hard. He still needs to cum, and he’s more eager than ever before. He shoves his cock back in, and the molten wetness has his cock quivering as his climax punches through, pushing him over the edge.

He doesn't warn you. He doesn’t have to - the damage is done. You’re reaping what he sowed. Joel shoots his seed as far into you as possible with a single thrust. His hands touch your belly, caressing the soft skin, and he pushes his cock even deeper, where he empties the rest of his balls. When he pulls out, his cum mixed with yours oozes out from your crease and pools onto the carpet beneath you. 

You dare to smile up at him, murmuring: “Thank you, Daddy,”

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 27th:  Haunted House | Hunters Moon - Ghost | Funny read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Haunted houses are supposed to be scary– fog, strobe lights, creepy crawlies and otherworldly creatures. Eddie’s prepared for all of that when he takes the job at the local haunt during his favorite time of year– it’s in the name, after all. 

What he’s not prepared for is Steve Goddamn Harrington to show up with a gaggle of pre-teens nipping at his heels like baby ducks demanding attention. 

“– don’t need your bat, it’s fine! It’s fake, Steve, c’mon.” He hears one particularly loud mop-headed kid arguing from behind his perch. 

Faux blood drips from the gash built up on his forehead down his nose and he smears it across his cheek, both for effect and because as much as he loves the hideous clown role, the viscous corn syrup trickling down his face makes his skin crawl. 

Wait, he thinks, furrowing his eyebrows as best he can beneath the special effects makeup. Did that kid just insinuate Steve Harrington wanted to bring a bat into a haunted house? 

“Yeah Steve, are you scared of spooky clowns now?” Another of his group sneers, this one a bit taller, skinny with darker hair. “Gonna show off and clobber some poor innocent actor like you did that demo–”

Steve hisses loud enough still for Eddie to hear him and grabs the kid by the shoulder. “Say it a little louder, why dontcha, Mike? Jesus Christ.” 

“Well, are you?” A redheaded girl asks as they get closer and closer to the entrance.

“After everything real we’ve seen, you think I’m afraid of what I know is fake?” Eddie can make out the shape of Steve standing with one hand on his hip and his finger pointing around at each of the kisd. “This was you little shits’ idea, remember that.”

Eddie’s grateful he’s toward the beginning of the haunt. He gets to set the tone for the rest of the show, and when someone particularly interesting piques his interest, sometimes he follows them around. Breathes down their neck a little, stands just a little too close without blinking, tilts his head with a ghastly smile when they turn around. 

Before they’ve even entered the house, Eddie’s decided to have a little fun with Steve Harrington. 

The fog machine kicks off, curling up from the floor around their ankles, spiraling like snakes up to the ceiling. Eddie grins and prepares himself for scare number one. 

The jumpscare. 

“Ow, you’re on my foot, asshole!” One of the kid whispers. 

“Then don’t stand so close!” Another responds. 

“We’re literally in a fucking hallway–” 

“Guys, language! And while you’re at it, shut the fuck up and pay attention!” 

When they’re in classes together, Eddie has to choke back the amused grin that plays at his lips when Steve shows off his bite but nothing is real in a haunted house anyways.

He lets himself smile. 

At least, until the sound machine groans to life. He waits for them to look around, to seek control, to figure out what the noise is and how to defend against it. 

“Welcome!” He screams with a cackling laugh, leaping out from his hiding spot and landing in a crouching position. “I hope you like it here, because you’re,” he circles around them with bent legs before leaning closer and shouting, “never leaving!” 

All of the kids scream simultaneously, devolving into nervous laughter. Steve though? Eddie watches Steve seize up and instinctually yank the kids closer to him. 

It’s not what he expects from the King of Hawkins High, dethroned or otherwise. Eddie’s heart clenches as he locks eyes with Steve, flitting back and forth between the rest of the haunt and the door they’d just entered through. His nostrils are flared, his lips tight, his eyebrows knitting together above his nose. 

Eddie’s gonna follow him alright, but not for the reasons he's initially planned. 

“My name is Krusty, and I’m your new friend.”

He circles around Steve like a predator and leans closer, his lips nearly grazing Steve’s ear. “Follow my lead, I’ll get you outta here.” 

Steve turns too quickly and their faces narrowly avoid one another, shoved between the kids itching to keep moving and the wall. Eddie nods and tries to make his smile comforting and reassuring. It must work because Steve’s shoulders drop from his ears and he whispers back. 

“Thanks.” 

—

Eddie bangs on the wall each time they enter the new room, cackling and yelling things like Fresh meat! and Look, I found us some new friends! The kids seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, and even Eddie can’t help but laugh when one of his fellow scare actors snorts in the curly-headed kid’s ear loud enough that he damn near jumps into Steve’s arms. 

“Jesus Christ, Dustin!” Steve topples backwards into Eddie, who braces himself against a prop cotton candy machine. “Remember earlier? It’s fake, Steve, c’mon?” 

From around Steve’s shoulder, Eddie sees Dustin shoot Steve an annoyed look with wide, incredulous eyes. 

“Alright, alright, you good?” Steve rectifies, his voice softer.

Dustin nods and straightens himself out with a pat on the head and ruffle from Steve before walking forward to rejoin the group.

“Last scare, Harrington” Eddie takes the opportunity to whisper in Steve’s ear, dropping out of character entirely. 

Who can blame him? How can he be expected to stay in the headspace of a terrifying, bloody clown when Steve Harrington is in his space, protecting little sheep when he’s afraid himself? And wearing some of the tightest jeans he’s ever seen?

He’s just a man. 

Steve whips around with furrowed brows and a wrinkled nose. “How the fuck do you know my name?” 

“Krusty knows everything.” 

He tries to shift back into gear and grins as he licks the fake blood that’s dripped down his nose to his top lip. It must be the fog machine, because there’s no way he just caught Steve’s eyes flickering down to track the movement. 

Nothing’s real in a haunted house. 

“Your children seem to have disappeared without you, let’s go catch them. Before someone else does.” Eddie claps his hands together with faux glee and skips ahead. 

The last room of the haunt is Eddie’s least favorite, truthfully. No actors, no human presence, just disorienting, kaleidescopic strobe lights, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling tangling themselves in whatever they can reach, and disembodied, whirring noises blaring from the speakers. If anything, it just gives him a headache. 

Steve’s charges handle it well enough; like many others, they complain that it was boring and Eddie overhears some of their constructive criticisms. He agrees with their stance, but can’t spend much time focusing on that. 

Not when he looks back to check on Steve only to find him with one hand over his eyes and the other scaling the side of the wall, cobwebs sticking to the sleeve of his jacket and knotting in his hair. 

Before Eddie can think about what he’s doing, his feet make the decision for him and he approaches Steve, places a hand on his lower back. Steve startles against the touch but doesn’t move his hand. 

“Just keep your eyes closed and I’ll get us out, okay? We all fuckin’ hate this room, trust me.” 

Steve nods and takes a shaky breath, letting Eddie guide him through the room as quickly and discreetly as possible. “It’s just the goddamn lights, man. I get migraines and these are the worst. Those kids give me enough headaches without the extra help.” 

Eddie gives a soft chuckle and shakes his head, looks Steve up and down briefly before they reach the end. Selfishly, Eddie wants to take his time and soak up the false reality of the haunted house and the safety it offers because really, in what other world will he ever be this close to Steve Harrington again? But he can tell the guy he’s suffering and Eddie has his fantasies to fall back on later. 

They’ve gotten him this far. 

“Why’d you bring ‘em then?” He asks, curious. 

Steve shrugs and sighs. “They’re good kids and wanted to come, and I’m the babysitter so, of course, it’s me. Gotta make sure they’re safe.” 

He says the last bit with a heaviness that Eddie doesn’t quite understand but they take their last few steps out into the night. The illusion of the haunted house crumbles, Eddie removes his hand as though he’s been branded, and Steve’s eyes flutter open. 

“Well, you did great. Your monsters are over there.” Eddie gestures with his chin towards the open field where six kids sit in a circle, laughing a bit too loudly. 

“Better go wrangle them up.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and comes away with a cobweb. 

“Oh yeah, you’ve got a little–” Eddie starts, reaching up impulsively to pick what he can out of Steve’s hair. 

He’s touching The Hair’s hair, and he doesn’t catch the rumored Harrington right hook for it. Instead, Steves stands silent as Eddie works, staring and blinking a few times. 

“There ya go, de-cobwebed. Free of charge,” Eddie smirks with pursed lips. “Unless you wanna tip, there’s a jar up front.” 

“Thanks,” Steve starts, running both hands through his hair and shaking as though to make sure. Or to torment Eddie. Maybe both. “For this and for uh, that.” He jerks his thumb behind them towards the house. 

“Any time, man. Any time. Spread the word, will ya? We could use the business.” 

Steve smiles at him as he turns to walk away, and Eddie wishes it was really him on the receiving end. But it’s not, because Steve doesn’t recognize him behind all the makeup. He’s just Krusty: bleeding heart, overly kind menacing clown. 

It's true, the motto. Nothing's real in a haunted house.

“Oh and, hey,” Steve calls out when he’s just a few steps away. 

“Yeah?” Eddie responds as Steve turns to look over his shoulder.

“See you in Click’s class on Monday, Munson.” 

[dabisqueen]

College Touya x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 11K

⇢ plot: getting into one of the most prestigious universities comes with a (literally) huge surprise

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, lots of dialogue, bantering and bickering, use of alcohol, Keigo is being a spoiled rich brat so he's not getting any ass but Tenko is finally getting his d*** wet and Touya as well, a bit of yelling, some kabedon action, steamy kissing, dry-humping, unprotected consensual sex, multiple orgasms, creampie

⇢ personal note: this was just another AU I was dreaming about. First time writing this kind of trope. Thanks to @/dreamy-collective for being my beta!

***

Moving away from home and starting your first year at a university was a challenging act on its own. So it was given that you were busy trying to adapt to the new college life, learning the campus layout, and establishing a daily routine. In other words– beginning to experience life as a university student.

But not only that. The university you had managed to get into was one of the most prestigious ones in the country and with the priciness of its tuition, you were glad to have landed several scholarships that needed extra effort.

Therefore, starting classes not only meant trying to cope with the pretty busy schedule change but also putting in your highest effort to keep your grades among the best. So you barely spent time socializing with people in the tight-knit community of the college campus. And a week into the semester, you still hadn't made any real friends yet, except for your roommate. 

Still, even though you didn't belong to the social circles on campus and you never cared for gossiping, certain rumors spread so far that even you heard them. About these three guys, all seniors belonging to the privileged elite of the university, stirring quite the fuss– especially the raven-haired and the blond one. 

It was the second week and your roommate and you were approaching the main entrance to your college building, ready to go to classes. But you stopped dead in your tracks, an all too familiar sight ahead of you. For a moment you questioned reality, having not seen him in almost a decade. 

"What's he doing here?" You asked, stunned. 

Of all places in the country you had to meet him here. Life has its shitty ways of fucking with you.

"Who?" Your roommate asked, her gaze following yours to some guys standing across the yard by the wall, smoking.

Staring straight ahead, you would've recognized him anywhere– hands lazily stuffed in the pockets of his dark ripped jeans, the usual bored expression on his face. That all too familiar mop of raven hair with bangs falling over his brows, those broad shoulders—

—and those incredibly piercing blue eyes that just now flicked up to look at you.

Shit, you tried to calm yourself, No need to panic. He won't recognize you after all these years.

But that hope was thrown out the door as quickly as it arose when he aimed a wickedly seductive grin right at you, his strikingly blue eyes continuing to observe you.

Damn, he knows.

"Ok, we gotta go. Now!" You swung around and swiveled around your roommate who struggled to catch up with you. "We're gonna take the back entrance."

"Hey, what was that just now?" She breathlessly asked.

"Nothing." You grumbled, reluctant to get as much distance between you and those mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Oh, don't you dare nothing me!" She took a few wider steps to catch up with you. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You might be right about that," you muttered under your breath. "Let's go, we'll be late for classes."

***

A sound stirred you from your work assignment late at night. "You're not telling me something."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Looking up, you saw your roommate standing at the door of your bedroom.

She cocked an eyebrow, kicked off the door frame, and walked towards you.

"The raven-haired guy. This morning." She continued, "I saw him looking at you– and then you freaked out."

Oh no.

"It's Touya Todoroki." She stopped in front of you, placing her hands on her canted hips, "The hottest guy on campus, according to what I've heard."

"Don't know what you're talking about." You mumbled, the tips of your ears turning scarlet as you kept yourself busy counting the dust specs on the screen of your notebook.

"C'mon! I know you're hiding something," she sat down next to you, batting her pretty, long lashes at you. "You've got to tell me."

Inhaling deeply, you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm your tired and overworked nerves.

"Alright." You sighed. "But this stays between us ok?"

"Pinkie swear!" She beamed at you, offering her smallest finger and you locked it with yours.

"Touya and his buddies Tenko, and Keigo—we used to be childhood friends. We grew up together living in the same neighborhood." You pulled your hand back and tugged a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. "We also went to the same elementary school."

"Aw, that's so cool!" She giggled, urging you to continue. 

"Yeah, really sweet–" you huffed and looked straight at her. "Did you know he calls me Cheeks?"

"No—but that's adorable!" She smiled.

"You know what it stands for?" Cocking a brow you waited.

She shook her head.

"Buttcheeks." You inhaled deeply before continuing. "In second grade, he pulled my pants down in front of everyone - even the teachers. I was the laughingstock of the entire school for weeks."

"Oh sorry," Your roommate was visibly afflicted. "That's not so adorable."

You continued, picking up a few pieces of lint off your pants. "A year later, my parents and I had to move away to another state. That's when I saw him last."

"Mhhh, maybe he was a jerk back then," she pointed out, "But did you ever think about him having changed?"

"Nope. People like him don't change." You added bitterly. "I need to focus on my studies now, ok?"

"Yeah, sure." She sighed.

And with that, you ended the conversation, your roommate straightening up to return to her room and leaving you to finish your essay.

***

As you were leaving your classroom, you stopped dead in your tracks seeing Touya with Keigo and Tenko, leaning his back against the building wall, observing you, hands buried deep in the pocket of his pants. 

Touya just rocked the hottest-guy-on-campus look. Even though his frame was lean, he was well-toned, his body reeking of masculinity. He was wearing a plain black long-sleeve shirt, tight black pants, biker boots, and rings on his hand as well as piercings in his ear. 

But it wasn't just his physique. His presence alone took up space and dominated like nothing else and you had to take a few moments to catch your breath. A few moments that were over too quickly when he started to strut over into your direction, his eyes strikingly light blue.

You instantly turned to make an escape, but at that same moment a door to a lecture room opened and a crowd of students poured out, crushing your plans to get away.

"Well well well, if it ain't Cheeks," an arm slung around your neck. "Of all places, I've never expected to run into you here."

The subtle scent of expensive cologne surrounded you and his own scent, warm and masculine at the same time. He smelled amazing, and it left a feeling in you that you couldn’t place your finger on.

Shit.

"Fuck off, Touya…" you mumbled, a bit of color rising to your face.

"Why so rude?" He chuckled and leaned in closer. 

A group of students had stopped to watch the two of you talk, chattering behind raised hands.

"What are you doing here?" You tried to get away from him but his embrace was too tight. 

"Could ask you the same." He hummed back with a curious grin on his face.

"I'm enrolled in classes, duh." You remarked, trying to keep your tone flat.

"Heh, I'm a Senior." His free hand came to pinch your cheek.

"Did your dad bribe the University Board to get you in?" You looked sideways at him, shamefully breathless at his close proximity. 

His eyes seemed so captivating—more than they used to when he was a kid.

"Naah— got in here myself." He grinned, icy blue eyes flashing. "Excellent grades."

"Doubt it." You hissed at him.

"You're hurting my feelings, Cheeks." He gave you a light chuckle that you felt way too much in your chest.

Rolling your eyes at him, you finally managed to shrug his arm off as he loosened his hold on you—when you heard another voice closing in. "Hey, Touya, who's that Hottie here?"

It was Keigo, narrower and shorter in build than Touya, with windstrewn ash blond hair swept messily backward. He was blatantly showing off his wealth, wearing luxury label clothes, and sporting a huge Breitling aviator watch on his wrist. 

"Don't you recognize her?" Touya glanced at him over his shoulder.

The blonde looked at you with a slight arch in his eyebrow. Then his golden eyes lit up in surprise. "Shit, it's Cheeks!"

"Damn, it is," Tenko muttered, who just joined the three of you. With the long tangled hair and the simple, black hoodie pulled over his head, he seemed more innocent than the other two, which was a welcoming change. The only thing giving him away was the rather geeky expensive Devon Star Wars watch at his wrist.

His cheeks reddened behind his pale bangs when your eyes met and he muttered a shy, "H-Hi Cheeks…" before averting his gaze, awkwardly scratching his nape with his fingers.

Keigo however, stepped even closer, his golden brown eyes mustering you as he leaned in, flirtatiously. "So—you got a boyfriend?"

"Nice move, but– no." You groaned. "Not interested in one as well."

Just as Keigo was about to say something Tenko interrupted, looking at his watch. "Guys, we need to go now if we wanna get to class in time." 

"Yeah, we're coming." Touya looked at you with an amused glint in his azure eyes before turning to leave.

"See ya, Cheeks." He waved goodbye as they strolled off.

You couldn't help but follow him with your eyes, when suddenly Touya stopped to toss you a look over his shoulder, grinning when he caught you staring, before continuing on his path.

Shit, you felt your cheeks burn. Shit, shit, shit.

Your roommate, who had stood off to the side unbeknownst to you now stepped close, letting out a deep sigh, "Sorry, didn't want to interrupt. But damn, are you lucky."

You bit your lips as you continued to watch him. "Jerk. I hate him."

"Oh, are you sure? You blushed there quite a bit, I'd say." She sheepishly added.

"Thin ice, girl." You pursed your lips at her, "Very thin ice."

She only giggled in response.

"I would give everything to be fucked by that guy." She gazed at where he was walking off with Keigo and Tenko. "C'mon, just look at him!"

You leveled her with a flat look and folded your arms under your chest. She sighed. 

"Girl, he's rich!" She wiggled her hand in his direction, "His dad is fucking loaded!"

"I don't care about all that, you know me" you commented nonchalantly.

"But—I heard he's even going to graduate summa cum laude."  Her eyes became dreamy, "If you land with him, you hit the jackpot."

"Oh, s'that so?" You picked up your bag. "You can have him. I'm not interested"

"You should be. I heard he also fucks like a God."

"Good thing I'm an atheist then." You winked at her and turned to walk away, trying to ignore the wet stickiness in your panties that wasn't there before.

***

The following weeks were absolute torment. Even though Touya was a senior and the paths you crossed were rare, he was constantly around, repeatedly seeking you out in the crowd, his little naughty grins always catching you off guard and making your face heat up. He was smooth, you had to admit, and surprisingly persistent– despite your constant rebuffs.

So it wasn’t long until your name unwantedly became the talk on campus. People were staring at you, muttering behind your back, wondering who that normal girl was that managed to get Touya Todoroki's attention. You weren't used to the looks that everyone was giving you, and felt utterly uncomfortable.

Whenever possible, you avoided large groups of people while on campus. Still, it was unavoidable that some girls' stares always followed you, their whispers behind raised hands a constant backdrop in your head.

It was frustrating, in more ways than one. Because even though you tried to deny it, you started catching yourself having constant thoughts about Touya. And they weren't exactly innocent ones. Whenever you saw him from afar, your chest tightened and your heart thundered a thousand miles a minute. You couldn't shrug off this feeling of wanting to be close to him, to hear his sultry voice, and to run your hands through his raven hair. 

Albeit your own feelings – or rather to deny them – you dedicated yourself to your studies for the next few weeks. So it was no surprise that when midterms came around, your relentless studying paid off, walking out of classes with the highest grades of all.

***

It was late spring and a sudden heat wave had hit your area, making everything unbearably sticky and gross. You opted for a midday walk as some sort of a stress reliever when you heard steps approaching and a familiar voice saying "Hi Cheeks–"

Touya came to a stop right in front of you, dressed in a short sleeve shirt. Intricate black and blue flame tattoos decorated both his arms, complementing his natural looks perfectly. 

After reaching inside the pocket of his jeans, he took a cigarette out of the box he had retrieved, and placed it between his lips. He lit it up, a cloud of smoke billowing up in the air as he exhaled deeply. His smoldering turquoise eyes dragged up your body and stopped at your lips.

"Wanna go eat something, Cheeks?" His gaze continued to linger on your lips.

"Sorry, I think I just lost my appetite." You deadpanned.

"Cmon–" He tilted up his chin, looking at you, smirking.

"Touya, I'm not interested."

"But I'm hungry…" And his eyes flicked back to your lips. 

"Go eat alone then." You mumbled.

Looking up at him, you noticed his rapturous looks, something wicked and flirtatious flickering behind the azure hue of his eyes. Your stomach somersaulted and you knew it was lust in his heavy-lidded eyes when your gazes locked.

"I'm not hungry for food, Cheeks—" his voice was husky, successfully making your spine tingle. 

"Oh for God's sake," you tried to swat his chest but he dodged gracefully, a playful smile on his face, taking another drag of the cigarette he was holding between his fingers.

You couldn't help but stare at his sinfully seductive lips, the way they urged to be kissed—

Okay, let’s not go there, you mentally slapped yourself.

But you were caught already as he observed the way your cheek reddened and cocked his head, eyebrows raised. “Bet you're thinking about me right now, Cheeks.”

"Excuse me?" You lied, the spreading blush reaching your ears, “F-Fuck off Touya!"

You felt like you were seconds away from exploding, with your heart rate blasting through the roof. 

"I think I'm making you nervous." He grinned, 

"God, you're so full of yourself–" you started.

Luckily a high smooth voice interrupted your little bantering. 

"Hey Toto, been looking everywhere for you!" a stunning girl approached.

Touya didn’t even pay a glance as she got close to him, manicured fingers trailing up his arm.

"Missed you, baby" she pouted her plush lips at him, "Why haven't you answered any of my calls?"

Touya sneered, his usual bored expression back on his face, "Should be self-explanatory."

He placed his cigarette between his lips again, sucking in his cheeks, his hooded gaze not leaving yours. 

The girl was stunned by his rude reply but then seemed to brush it off. Moving her face close to his, she purred, “What’s with the attitude, baby?"

"Told you, I have other plans..." Ignoring her completely, his eyes continued to be trained on you as smoke billowed around his face.

Even though he was clearly not interested in that girl, it still left a pinch of bitterness in your heart. You felt disappointed. You'd heard that he had gotten around quite a bit– but seeing the girl just being so much better looking than you made you feel so inferior, so ugly, so—

—you had to get out of here. Now.

"I think you should satisfy your hunger with her," you pointed out and before he could reply, you shouldered your bag and left down the path to the library.

You heard Touya call after you but then the high-pitched voice of the girl interrupted, followed by rough cussing on his behalf before you could get out of earshot.

Serves him right.

***

This irritating, depressing sting of jealousy had been gnawing away at your heart ever since the scene outside with the girl and left you almost sleepless at night. Let's face it, you weren't exactly a virgin anymore either. But your experience had been rather—bleak, to put it nicely. With some random guy. For a whooping ten seconds. Leaving you beyond unsatisfied.

But Touya– he must have been in bed with so many girls, must have gathered so much experience that the thought alone made the bile of jealousy rise in your stomach. And as it was apparent to you, all the girls he had were all pretty and perfect and you couldn't help but feel inferior to them. And you hated yourself for thinking this way.

But that wasn't the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied– no. You couldn't quite shrug off the idea that – even though he served her off, or maybe just because of that – each girl was just a joke for him. As were you.

You had just finished your last lecture for today and, grabbing your iPad from the counter you winced, a stinging pain shooting through the tip of your finger. You pinched it between your thumb and index finger, seeing a splinter stuck in it. You knew you had to wait till later to get it out with tweezers at home.

You sighed as you exited your classroom ready to head outside—when you felt a soft hoodie sleeve slide along your neck as an arm draped around your shoulder, the subtle scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke starting to engulf you.

It was familiar, comforting—

—and yet still so unwelcomed.

"There you are, Cheeks, missed ya." Touya's low, sultry voice close to your ear sent instant shivers up your spine. 

Your step faltered and you spun around only for another arm to coil around your waste. Dragging your gaze from his chest up to his face you instantly shrunk beneath the intensity of his stunning blue eyes. Your mouth opened but nothing came out, too struck by how inexcusably handsome he looked up this close.

"That really hurts, huh?" He said with his husky voice, looking down at your finger.

"Let go of me, Touya" you shivered under his touch and tried to shake off his arm.

His eyes never left yours as his hand wrapped around your hurt one, bringing it close to his face. Breathlessly, you watched as he latched his lips around your fingertip and flicked his tongue over the wound before starting to suck.

You inhaled sharply, as a piercing pain shot through your finger, his eyes heavily lidded with lust and desire when you locked gazes.

Shit.

Suddenly, the pain was gone and he released your finger. He stuck out his tongue, the splinter sitting on its tip. He turned his head to spit it away and let go of you, smoothing his hair back. He watched with an amused grin while your cheeks went slowly ablaze.

"D-Don't do that, Touya," you stuttered.

He leaned close, propping himself against the wall next to you. There was that smirk again— the one that made your heart skip a bear. His hand came up to tug a strand of hair behind your ear and his light warm touch had your stomach flutter.

"Don't do what?" He cooed.

"D-Dont touch me." Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

Damn.

You hated it. You hated how he made you feel inside, how he made your body react to him. You felt heat rising inside of you again and your resentment towards him increased.

“I'd say you like my touch,” he smirked a bit wider seeing the rosy blush spread on your face. "It's more than obvious."

“You wish,” you retorted, shifting to the side, further away from him.

"And I need to go now, I need to work on my scholarship project." You mumbled as Touya watched on with his lazily lidded eyes.

As you took a step away from him, you felt him hold you back by your arm.

"Wait!" He called out and you stopped, staring straight ahead.

“Listen, Cheeks. I want to apologize,” he sighed, sounding pensive. “You’re busy and here I’ve been, like, keeping you from your work."

Turning around you took him in. He seemed apologetic. And honest.

"I really like spending time with you." He cocked his head, slowly releasing his hold on you. "Why don’t you tell me what the assignment is about so I can make up for distracting you by helping out?"

This was unexpected. His honest expression caught you off guard, and, hesitating for a moment, you told him about your assignment. Not before throwing him a glare–out of mere spite. 

"Well, come to think of it," he mused, "That's a topic I aced last year. I could help out."

Of course, he did, you mentally slapped yourself.

"Ok, here's my offer," his smile became wider. "I'll book a quiet room at the library and help you out."

"Ok, but we only study." You scrunched your nose cutely at him.

"Aw Cheeks, I'm hurt that you think so lowly of me." He chuckled, "Of course, we will only study—promise."

His cerulean eyes were lit up beautifully, bright, with a glint of his usual mischief in them, but also integrity. It brought back memories of when you were kids, of how he used to look at you back then. Full of contentment and—

"Ok," you declared defeat. "Three o'clock. Library. For studying."

He whipped out his phone, asking for your number and typing it down in his contact list.

"Yup, just for studying." Placing his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, he leaned in and pecked your cheek before you could even register his actions. "See ya at three, Cheeks!"

And then he strutted off, hands lazily stuffed in his pockets. As you watched him leave, you noticed the whispers from your classmates as he passed, some eyes even trained on you. It made the heat in your face even more obvious and you quickly turned to walk away.

***

It was half past two and you were sitting at one of the reading tables aligned along the wall in the basement of the library. Touya had texted you that he had successfully booked a room down there. As you were trying to kill time, you were reading in preparation for the meeting. The supportive stone pillars served as dividers in between the tables, yet not as any kind of soundproofing.

At the table adjacent to yours, two girls had been keeping you from studying, irritating you with their endless gossiping. Finally, it sounded like they were gathering their stuff when—

"Have you heard the latest news about Touya?" The first one whispered.

"Spill the beans, bestie!" The other urged.

Oh no, here we go, you thought, clearly annoyed by the fact that every girl seemed to know something about him.

"A girl I know from a party said she slept with him recently." The first one started.

You rolled your eyes. This was the worst conversation to listen to. You tried to focus back on the book, starting to read the first line when—

"You know, she claimed they did it here — in this library."

Oh for Christ's sake, you slammed your hand on the pages. You were close to standing up and leaving. But the desperate urge to want to hear where this was heading took control.

"No way, that's so hot!" The other girl gushed.

"Yeah, can you believe it? She said he invited her for a study session." You heard her shifting in her seat.

You froze, all blood starting to drain from your face.

"What, really?" The other girl's voice was high with excitement. "That's so treacherous. And naughty—"

"He signed up for a quiet room and then they fucked—" there was the sound of fabric rustling as the first one stood up.

You didn't listen any further as all sounds around you started to disappear. The pen you had clutched between your fingers slipped away from your grip, clattering onto the table.

Your heart pounded in your ears and your throat constricted. With your stomach churning and tears starting to form, the world seemed to spin as you slowly rose on your wobbly feet, snatching your belongings.

As you started walking, it felt like gravity had been turned up as every muscle in your body suddenly felt too heavy to move.

God, why did you fall for this…

***

"Please!" 

"No." You scoffed.

"Pretty please?!" Your roommate tried again.

"Still no."

Considering for a second, she continued, "I'll do the dishes for the entire next month."

Contemplating your answers for a second, you exhaled heavily. "Still no." 

She groaned out loud, but then offered with a mischievous smile on her face. "I know secrets about you that I'm not gonna hesitate to spill."

"You wouldn't dare—" You let out a harsh breath, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

"Try me!" She boasted.

You turned your attention back to your studies.

"Ok, dishes and groceries. For a month."

You let out a deep sigh, closing your book with a loud clap. "Fine."

***

So, this is how you ended up at Keigo's birthday bash - organized and hosted by none other than Touya Todoroki. 

You wanted to leave before you had even arrived. Ever since you walked out of that library a week ago, you had successfully avoided Touya and ignored every one of his calls or messages. And now you were here, able to run into him at any minute.

The party had been the talk of campus for quite a while and everyone had taken desperate measures to get their hands on the limited tickets. Even though Tenko teued to convince you to attend, you kept refusing. That was, until your roommate came into your room, fanning her face with two of those most sought-after invitations, courtesy of Tenko, and bribed you into joining her.

The party took place in an opulent suite at the noblest hotel in town, owned by none other than Enji Todoroki, Touya's dad.

Standing against the wall in a corner of the spacious two-story living room area, you took a glimpse around to take in the scene. There was a huge bar and a professional flair bartender currently doing a performance flipping his mixers and bottles, perfectly emphasizing the sleek contemporary furniture.

The entire room was filled with pro lighting effects tailored to the music of a professional DJ playing off to the side. A huge luxury buffet with an assorted arrangement of foods - all masterfully prepared - was placed against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. It wasn't only a feast for the eye, but also one to spoil the palette.

Your roommate had already excused herself to approach some of the Seniors standing at the bar, leaving you to yourself sipping on your gin & tonic. Sliding your free hand along your dress, you nervously tugged at its hem, trying to pull it down further. Your roommate made you buy it earlier this afternoon and it felt way too short and way too tight for your liking. 

You sighed and stepped towards the well-endowed buffet table when an arm wrapped around your waist from behind and pulled you around.

"Hey, Cheeks!" A voice whispered close to your ear– but it wasn't Touya's. Blond hair tickled your cheek as Keigo dipped his head against the curve of your neck, his warm soft lips grazing your skin.

"Keigo, let me go."

"But you feel so nice." He slurred, a hand starting to wander lower. "And warm."

"Keigo–" You tried to free yourself from his embrace, "Let. Me. Go!"

"Sorry, not happening," holding you with one arm tightly, he quickly chugged a glass filled with whiskey he was holding before placing it carelessly on a catering table nearby.

You tried to push against him but years of being on the Varsity Team had obviously paid off – he didn't budge an inch.

"Lemme kiss you..." He whispered against your neck, tongue dipping out to taste you.

An uncomfortable feeling spread through you, his breath hot against your skin, heavy with the scent of whiskey. 

"Keigo, keep your hands off me–" You kept struggling against his hold as his hand slid down from your waist to your ass. “I swear to God, I’ll punch you."

Just that second you were pried out of Keigo's grip. You lost your footing and stumbled back against a warm body, a strong arm keeping you from falling. Seeing Tenko casually restraining an obviously drunk Keigo, a suspicion arose as to whose arms you were in. As you tilted your head up, a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes glanced down at you, a mischievous glint in them.

Yep. Touya.

"Please don't punch him." Touya chuckled, making sure you had safe footing before releasing you and sending you an apologetic smile. "He's just a bit drunk."

The blond man swayed in Tenko’s embrace, grinning stupidly at you, "Pfff, I'm not drunk! I'm sexy…"

"Well, you better keep restraining me or else I'll punch his pretty face nonetheless…" You growled in return.

"Ha! She said I'm pretty," the Blonde beamed, obviously delighted about your description of him.

"Tenko, please take Keigo over there," Touya nudged his head towards the other side of the room, "I saw a bunch of sorority girls looking for him."

"Yeah Tenko," Keigo's face turned bright and he slurred, "Let's go get some ass!" 

And with that, he raised his fist and stumbled off through the crowd, with Tenko rushing after him but not before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Trapping your chin between his thumb and index finger, Touya angled your face upward as he raked his eyes over your features. "You're OK there, Cheeks?"

His scent was intoxicating. It numbed your mind and sent heat straight down between your legs. Embarrassingly enough, you noticed how just this subtle gesture of affection had your panties stick wetly to you in an instant.

"Thanks, Touya," you muttered and tried to push past him, trying to get away from him. 

But he was quick to wrap his arm around you, keeping him close to you.

"Nuh-uh, you're staying with me." He grinned, picking up a nearby fresh glass filled with amber liquid from a table. "You keep disappearing on me…"

"Oh, so what—you need me to punch you as well?" You cocked a brow at him.

"Worth the risk." A smugness settled on his face as he took a sip of the amber-colored drink from his glass.

The liquid glistened on his lips and your eyes flicked unconsciously to them before he licked it away. They were the most alluring feature, soft and slightly parted—and again you couldn't help but fantasize how they would feel pressed against yours.

You were quick to avert your gaze again. But an unwanted desire grew in your chest, and you clenched your thighs in an attempt to stop the heat from spreading.

But Touya's mouth quirked suspiciously at the corner, having seen your wandering gaze. 

You took a deep breath to keep your annoyance at bay. "What are you smiling at?"

"Hmmm let me think…" he tipped his head and added with a cheeky expression "You, staring at my lips?"

"No, I wasn't," you braced your hands against his chest in an attempt to free yourself.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks when you felt him, all the firm muscles under his soft shirt, warm and solid, his strong heartbeat pounding against your palm.

Shit.

It stirred something inside you, making you aware of just how attractive he was, how close you were to him, feeling the heat radiating off his body, his sweet breath fanning your face. The blush kept spreading to your ears especially when you noticed something else that was solid as well. And it was pressing against you. 

Just lower.

Your body felt hot all of a sudden and you tried to blame the little alcohol you had consumed so far. But the thought of how his chest would feel, bare underneath your skin, how it would feel to press your lips against it clawed its traitorous way into your brain.

Luckily the train of thought was cut short.

"I'm pretty sure you were staring at my lips," He fought back a grin as he raised an eyebrow. 

Bastard, you cursed inwardly a few times for having been caught red-handed.

"No, I wasn't," you answered, wincing inwardly from sounding so weak.

A pleased sound rumbled deep in his chest. "I think you're lying, Cheeks."

Why is he so infuriating, insufferable and so–

– goddamn attractive.

"Touya, please–" it came out as a mere whisper while you swallowed nervously.

“Please what?” He tilted his head, looking amused. “You don’t have to be shy, you know.”

He was obviously having a blast with your reaction. He has always been like that. One second he was nice and sweet and the next second his blatant cockiness annoyed the hell out of you. 

“I’m not shy.” You tried to defend yourself. "You're just annoying, that's all."

His eyes slowly dropped down to your mouth and you felt it straight in your belly. It took over your senses and clouded any coherent thoughts.

“And you’re pretty." Touya whispered, leaning in further.

“What do you want from me?” You trembled beneath his gaze, suddenly feeling so vulnerable.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tilting his head to the side, he angled his mouth above yours. “You."

You could feel his warm breath on your lips, the tip of his nose tickling yours. Maybe he did change. Maybe he really was interested in you. So without thinking any further you let your lids flutter shut, parting your lips when–

"Oi Touya!" A guy shouted at him over the noise of the crowd and the music, "Am I interrupting something?"

Your eyes shot open as both turned your heads towards a young man with short auburn hair approaching, wearing a black shirt and white tie.

"'Course you fucking are, dipshit!" Touya growled at him, obviously not happy about the guy's appearance.

The other took you in before asking, wearing a stupid grin on his face. "What happened to the cute blond girl from before? No wait, she was brunette, wasn't she—?"

"Shut it," Touya hissed, loosening his hold on you as he was ready to approach the other man.

Memories of the conversation between the two girls at the library flooded your mind and it churned another feeling inside you— one of betrayal. And suddenly you felt so dumb for thinking that he'd ever change. He would always be the guy who humiliated you and would do it again without thinking. And with that last thought, you dove under Touya's arm to start digging your way through the crowd toward the exit.

There was a loud cuss as your dark-haired admirer picked up the pursuit. But even though he was larger and stronger, you were quite agile, twisting and diving around and under people.

"Cheeks, stop!" Touya called after you.

But you didn't think of it. You almost reached the door when fingers clamped around your wrist and pulled you back.

"Fucking stop running!" Touya glowered at you, his tone aggravated. 

"Let me go!" You dug your fingers under his to try to free yourself from his grip.

"Hell no," he hissed and turned around to drag you up the stairs with him. "We're gonna have a talk."

"I don't want to though." You continued to struggle.

"I don't care, I'm sick of this!" He didn't even look at you as he arrived at the mezzanine floor.

"Touya please, you're hurting me," you whimpered, his grip on your wrist relentless as he kicked open the first door.

Touya shoved you into the room, booting the door shut behind him and you stumbled, catching yourself on the couch. Turning around you visibly paled. Touya stood in the doorframe, you'd never seen such a serious expression on his face. As he started approaching, you backed up, shrinking away under his intense glare.

"Touya, let me go–" Your voice sounded too shaky to be strong.

"No, you're not leaving until we've talked." He answered while approaching.

"You're scaring me—" You stepped further back until your back hit the wall. 

He was taking another stride until his body was directly in front of you, slamming his hands against the wall next to your head, caging you in.

"Touya—" You sniffled, "What's gotten into you?"

The blue of his eyes was dark, pointed sharply at you. 

"You're asking what's gotten into me?" His voice was dangerously low and rumbling. "Should ask you the same! Every time I wanna talk to you, you run away."

You cringed at his harsh words, his mouth pressed to a thin line, its corners angrily twitching.

"I want an explanation" He lifted his hand to slam it against the wall again, giving his words ample support.

"You pulled down my pants!" You yelled at him.

There. You said it. 

His expression turned puzzled, seriously taken aback.

"You're still mad at me for that?" His tone turned more aggravated.

“You ridiculed me!” You glared back at him, feeling your eyes watering up.

"That was ages ago!" He slammed his palm against the wall again. "I was a fucking dumb kid!"

Your bottom lip was trembling when your eyes locked. Frustration and anger clawed their way up your chest and without thinking you blurted out, "And what about the girl you fucked in the silent room? Were you gonna pull the same stunt on me?"

Your entire body was trembling by now, tears sitting heavy at your lash line.

"What the—no! Who told you that bullshit?" By now, he seriously seemed confused.

"It's no bullshit!" You spat back, "Some girls talked about it while I was waiting for you."

"So, that's why you left…" his eyes darkened, "Listen Cheeks, people say a lot of shit about me. If you would've just asked–"

"And what about that blond–" you cleared your throat, trying to suppress a sob, "No, brunette girl earlier on?" 

"Oh for fucks sake!" Touya's anger was palpable by now. "Kai hates me and always makes up shit like this just to get at me."

"I don't believe you." You turned your face sideways to avoid his gaze.

He stared at you in disbelief for a moment, before—

"You don't believe me?" He almost yelled at you. "I've been honest with you the entire time and you have just been so—aaahhh!"

He slammed his palm against the wall again. You flinched at its impact, a single tear freeing itself from your damp eyelashes, making its way down your cheek. Another one quickly followed. You choked on a gasp and noticed you had held your breath. Slowly, you breathed through trembling lips.

A heavy silence settled between you, the only audible sound being his heavy breathing and your silent sobs.

There was a subtle touch to your cheek as a warm hand gently cupped your face, turning it towards him. 

"Look at me," he said, his voice much softer.

You did, your gaze slowly rising to meet Touya's eyes. All anger was gone from his features, another expression instead passing over his face, one that was almost... tender. And affectionate.

His azure eyes took you in, the way you sniffled softly, another tear rolling down your cheek. His thumb brushed the tiny drop of salt water away as he continued gazing at you.

"Never made a girl cry like this before." His voice was low and made your heart pick up a beat, "Except for in my bed underneath me."

You giggled, sniffling, and leaned into his comforting touch. "You're such a dick…"

"I know," he chuckled and shifted forward, subtly eating up the space between you.

You could feel his warm breath fan over your skin. Then his lips ghosted over your cheek, the tip of his tongue dipping out to lick away the salty warmth of a single tear.

"Please forgive me?" He murmured against your skin, moving lower, following the trail of your tears, licking them up, one by one.

It was hard trying to formulate a response with his warm lips on your skin. You tried to say something, tried to push him away but you had forgotten how to speak – how to move.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he breathed and adjusted his direction, going lower, and lower, his tongue flicking out to lick the corner of your mouth.

You sucked in a little breath of surprise and he took the small advantage to move his mouth over yours, dipping his tongue inside.

You let your eyes flutter shut, your entire brain short-circuiting as it hit like a lightning strike. You forgot yourself, forgot everything else except for the tip of his tongue on yours. 

Your mouths started to sensually and slowly work against one another as were your tongues, leaving you lightheaded and knees buckling as you moved your hands up to steady yourself on his hips.

He smelled and tasted like the best thing you've ever tasted, with warm skin, and a hint of smoke. You kept kissing like that, his hand cupping your face, sliding behind your neck, to cup your nape, to angle your face and pull you deeper into the kiss.

You felt his thigh slip between yours, pinning you in place. The unmistakable press of something stiff against your hips caught your attention, making you gasp into his mouth. Goosebumps cascaded up and down your body and you felt each hair stand on end.

With each roll of your tongues, he humped his clothed erection against your core. A small whimper spilled past your mouth and it earned you a quiet hum of approval in response.

You were starting to lose your mind as you continued to intensify the kiss, mouths working against one another. He groaned at the way you ground your hips forward, meeting his in a desperate attempt to feel more of him.

His movements became erratic before he pulled back, panting heavily, eyes dark and hooded with lust.

"Jesus fucking–" his words came out hoarse and breathy.

Then his hands swept along the back of each of your thighs to lift you off the floor and onto his hips.

You squealed his name against his lips as he swung you around and laid you down on the soft sheets of the queen-sized bed in one swift motion, his mouth not once leaving yours.

Fitting himself between your legs, he spread them easily with his body, grinding his pelvis against your clothed heat, making sure you felt just how huge he was and how much he wanted you. 

With each rut, he pressed his throbbing cock directly against your sensitive nub. It had your blood boiling, your core clenching and you canted your hips to meet his, the coil inside of you tightening by the second.

"Touya–" you panted into his mouth, nails digging into his shirt.

It felt better than anything you could've imagined. The pressure in your guts increased, the coil wound tighter and tighter, a white heat starting to blister, and with the next press of his hips against your mound—

“Touya, wait!" you gasped against his mouth, but it was too late.

Your orgasm exploded and had you moan into his mouth, back arching off the soft mattress, pressing your breasts against him.

His movements stalled and he looked at you with a puzzled look on his face.

"Did you just…?" A surprised smirk spread on his face.

You just laid below him, trying to catch your breath, cheeks bright red and lips raw and swollen from the intensive kissing.

"Yes, you did!" His soft chuckle vibrated through you, making you squirm underneath him.

"S-Shut up," you muttered, your hand raising to cover your blushing face.

"I think it's cute." A hand slid into your palm, fingers interlacing with yours as the other rose to brush a piece of hair away from your eyes.

"I'm just sensitive." You tried to explain, your face warming.

"I love that about you," he said, his warm breath fanning against your skin. "No need to apologize."

"You're just messing with me" you murmured, eyelashes fluttering shyly.

"I'd never," you heard him say under his breath.

You both stayed like this for a few more moments, warm bodies pressed against one another. 

Then he asked, tentatively, "So, you want to stop here?"

Carding your fingers through his messy hair you laughed, "You better not--”

He buried his face in your neck and groaned deeply. "God, why do you have to be so perfect—?"

"Trying my hardest," you giggled.

He started nibbling against your pulse, making you writhe underneath him. You could feel him smirking against your skin at your reaction, lips finally brushing yours and you untangled your fingers to pull at his hair. You started kissing, deep and longingly, darting your tongue between his lips to get a better taste of him. He kept kissing you, deep and messy, just pausing to nip at your lips before shoving his tongue in your mouth again.

Without breaking the kiss, you propped yourself up on your elbows. Touya wrapped his arms around you, grabbed the zipper of your dress, and slowly pulled it down to its bottom. Hooking his fingers under your straps, he pulled the dress down over your bare breasts and you helped get your arms out. Leaning back, he gently guided you back onto the mattress. When the dress was at your hips and you lifted them, allowing him to glide it over your butt and off your legs. 

The kiss never broke, eyes closed with lust, until suddenly he straightened up, eagerly taking you in with smoldering turquoise eyes. "Shit, you look more beautiful than I imagined." 

"You imagined—?"

"Oh, you don't know how often I dreamed about you." Tracing his fingers around the curve of your completely exposed breasts, "Ever since I first saw you on campus."

With that he sunk down, latching his warm lips around your erect nipple. You sucked in a breath, a blistering heat shooting right through your body as it ripped a loud moan from your mouth. As he continued, running his tongue over your nipples, alternating between swirls and flicks, you gasped for air. His mouth closed in on one, then the other, sucking and biting lightly, while Touya hummed in approval and continued his ministrations on the other breast. 

When he stopped, you looked up at him. There was so much heat between your legs, and you were dripping wet.

“Can't believe that after all these years I finally have you in bed with me." He breathed out heavily, eyes glazed with lust as he peered at you below him. 

And If it was possible to fuck you with a look, this was it.

You swallowed your breath, heart thrumming loud against your chest. “What are you waiting for then?"

“Atta girl,” he said and hooked his thumb under the hem of your panties, pulling them down and off your legs.

Grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs apart, his breathing became faster, seeing your glistening folds, all that arousal seeping out.

"Cheeks, let's skip the foreplay." His face took on a pained expression as he gulped. "I think I'll bust a nut in my pants if I wait any longer."

Tilting your head, you took in the huge, twitching bulk in his pants, urging to be released. "Y-Yeah, go on, I'm ready."

"Thank God." He growled deep and low, hooking his fingers under his shirt.

Pulling it over his head, he threw it carelessly across the room. When he started unbuttoning his pants, you gasped as you saw a neatly trimmed black happy trail leading up to—

Sitting on his knees he pulled his pants down. 

—his pierced cock. 

Jesus Christ. Figured he was pierced– and went fucking commando.

You realized you were holding your breath when he had his eyes on you, asking with an unexpectedly low voice of his, “Ready?”

You nervously nodded when Touya was settling himself back between your legs.

Grabbing his cock at its base, he positioned it against your shimmering folds, sliding it back and forth over your slick pussy instead of putting it in. Precum mixed with your slick, his gaze transfixed on your face, waiting for approval.

The way you tentatively bit your lips was all he needed.

His cock started pressing hard against your entrance, and after a bit of resistance, the head popped in with a burning stretch.

Simultaneously, the both of you moaned out loud and tried to hold your composure. With gritted teeth, Touya pushed further agonizingly slow, groaning, each piercing slightly resisting before finally slipping in.

You felt split open, so sensitive that you struggled to last as he pushed in further, deeper. When he was finally inserted, you couldn't help but cry out again. It wasn't only the length that was impressive. The thickness and piercings were what got your head spinning. 

“Fuck,” Touya hissed through his teeth, desperation in his voice. His head dropped against your neck, his hand tapping out on the sheets.

"I-I think I need a moment here," he panted against your skin, his stiff cock wildly throbbing inside your pussy, close to painting your insides white with his creamy release.

"Whom are you telling," your breathing was labored, trying your hardest not to cum on the spot. 

"Shit, you're so…" he gulped, "Why are you so fucking tight—?"

"Cause you're huge!" You gasped sharply, clenching even harder down on him.

His breathing was still strained, his face still buried in your neck.

"So, do you need me to distract you?" You wheezed. "Pinch something or maybe—punch you?"

"Don't you dare," he chuckled, playfully biting the skin of your shoulder.

“I would never---” You giggled, close to bursting out into laughter over him.

Noticing the tension inside you slowly subsiding, you placed your warm palm on his back, gently running it up and down his stiff back, hoping he’d finally relax. Feeling the muscles slowly soften under your touch, his nether regions calmed down as well. 

"Ok," he finally breathed, "Ready?" 

You only nodded and he—

Holy shit.

You weren't prepared for this at all. Your hand was clutching onto Touya's shoulder for dear life as he began to slowly pull out. All nerve endings were on fire instantly and one hand darted up to clasp over your mouth. 

It felt amazing, his piercings adding just the right friction, his girth to the heavenly pressure. Touya grunted as he stopped, only the cockhead still buried inside your wet warm walls.

Then without a warning, he leaned his weight onto you, sinking his entire length into your pussy again, all the way to the base. He started a hard and deep pace, knocking the breath out of you.

“Touya—” you hit your head against the headboard from how urgently he thrusted forward.

“Cheeks,” he uttered between heavy breaths as he continued to slide his cock in and out of you. “How the fuck do you feel so good?"

"Y-You tell me—" You moaned.

Placing his hands on your hips and wrapping his fingers under your back he suddenly sat on his knees, lifting your butt off the mattress. Forcefully, he pulled you off the pillows and towards him, onto him, and slung your legs over his shoulders. 

Oh! was the last coherent word that your brain came up with before he started fucking you in earnest now.

Fisting your trembling fingers into the bed sheets, you bit your lower lip at the feeling of the steady push and pull, making you gasp and clench around him harder.

Touya muttered feverishly, “Fuck, you’re so wet,” under his breath, dropping his head out of pleasure. "You're dripping down my balls–"

He leaned closer to you, knees at your arms, chest pressing against your breasts as he kissed your lips while continuing to move his hips. His mouth was warm and wet and eager against your own and you clutched your hands around his nape for stability.

You slowly started losing your composure, struggling to hold back your orgasm. Still, you begged for more, more– and he delivered, thrusting into you deep and raw, faster and much more forceful than before, stimulating that special spot in you, brutal and quick.

And you couldn’t help but sob at how good it felt. Never in your life had you experienced anything like this. He hit all the right places, his piercings adding perfectly to the friction. You felt the coil inside you so close to bursting again.

Oh my god, you were gonna cum again.

You honestly never thought that sex could bring this much pleasure, with it feeling raw and amazing at the same time. Your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, squelching sounds mixed with your incoherent sobbing and his low groans, while Touya's heated gaze drank up the lewd expression on your face as you came.

“Wanna fill you up with –fuck– my fucking cum, Cheeks.” He emphasized each word with a hard thrust, making you moan even harder around his length.

You could barely speak at that point, couldn’t even find the energy to move so he slid his hand between your legs, talented fingers starting to rub your clit. 

His mouth found yours again and he kissed you– hungry and sloppy– muttering under his breath, "Do you want me to fill you up? Do you want my cum inside of you?"

"Oh god, yes." You whimpered breathlessly into his mouth.

He started to give you deeper, harder strokes now. You were close to crying, with it all being too much. Your vision became blurry from all the tears in your eyes and your body trembled, legs shook as his thrusts prolonged the orgasm and unearthed another one right behind it.

It made your eyes roll back and toes curl, losing all control as you felt the tingly feeling begin to unwind in your abdomen. You were a mess below him by then, pleading for him to go faster, harder, voice wracked with sobs of ecstasy.

The pleasure coiled, tighter and tighter. You couldn't hold back anymore, with him sliding in and out of you at this insane speed, his cock pounding into your G-spot with every thrust forward, working you both towards your shared high.

Your cries and the wet, squelching sounds of your messy unity echoed off the walls. You didn't care if people at the party downstairs could hear, too lost in each other's pleasure to think about anything else.

“I–,” he slurred, completely out of control. “I’m gonna cum.”

And then Touya’s head dropped against your shoulder, hot breath coming out in rough pants from the exertion. His eyes rolled back and he shuddered — pounding deep into you, erratic and needy. 

The sight of him being so close to bliss, the feeling of him slamming his dick into you— you couldn't handle it, and it had you falling over the edge again. The tension burst, another intense wave of pleasure racking your body as you gushed around his length. It felt like you shattered into a million pieces and then he pulled you back together again.

With his rhythm becoming sloppy and one last thrust, he came deep inside of you. sharing this moment of all-encompassing pleasure with you. 

You felt Touya toppling on top of you almost immediately, chest rising and falling fast as he tried to pump back some air into his lungs.

“Holy—,” he said, breathing heavily at the juncture of your neck.

"Yeah—" you wheezed, trying to get your heart from racing in your chest.

You both stayed like that, drunk on the endorphins rushing through your system. His hair gently brushed over your skin, his soft lips alternating between nibbling and kissing your skin while you ran your hands across his back.

He eventually got soft inside of you and then slipped out, each piercing slowly popping out. Your combined release gushed out, dripping warm and creamy down your ass and onto the sheets below.

Bit by bit, the muffled sounds of the party came back, filling the room. 

"Sooo—" He glanced at you from under his dark bangs. "Are we good now?"

"Touya…."You scolded, shuddering under the feeling of his warm lips against your neck.

"I love how you say my name." He was nosing your skin, "'Getting hard again."

"Imbecile" - you groaned when you felt his soft cock starting to twitch against your dripping folds again.

He chuckled at that response, rubbing his slender nose into your pulse.

"But since you asked so nicely— I'll think about it," raising your arms you weaved your fingers into his hair, earning you an appreciative hum.

"You're so mean, Cheeks" he cooed, continuing to cover your skin with little kisses.

"Just paying you back for years of torture," your lips curled into a soft, satisfied smile before you turned your head to meet his lips for another passionate kiss.

***

The constant talk of the professor made for a monotonous backdrop. You sighed, looking at the digital clock on your tablet. Still a few more minutes to go before class was over and you could enjoy the rest of the day off.

You paid little to no mind to the professor's words, thinking about the weekend and all that happened. After you spent the night with Touya, you both woke before anyone else. He offered to drive you home, but not without buying you your favorite coffee on the way there. After a goodbye kiss at the door, he drove off. 

To your surprise, your roommate had spent the night with Tenko and apparently would stay at his place. It was a turn you'd never anticipated but were pretty happy about. And– it left you alone in your apartment, having enough time to ponder the endless possibilities of what that night with Touya meant for you, with it occupying your mind more than you anticipated. Because even though you knew he was probably busy with getting the cleanup organized, it still ate away at you that he didn't even call once.

So needless to say, doubts were nagging at you. You weren’t sure what this meant, what his intentions were. There were a million other girls in the world he could have chosen. So many hotter ones, prettier ones. So, were you just a phase, just another girl in the line of all the others he's had?

The pain in your chest rose as you kept thinking about this. And you finally concluded that he had to have teased you, that you were just another trophy on his wall of girls he fucked.

You hated this. You hated feeling like this, these thoughts making the turmoil inside you grow. You covered your face with your palms, feeling your eyes turn hot and your lower lip starting to tremble. 

Luckily, you were ripped from your thoughts by the shuffle of the people in the room and realized that the lecture was over. You took a moment to steady your pulsating heart, sighed, and stuffed your belongings into your bag, standing up and shouldering it. 

As you headed towards the door of the lecture room and stepped outside, you only took a few steps before someone was by your side, slinging an arm around your shoulders, and pulling you close.

Looking up with wide eyes, you saw Touya, effortlessly handsome as always, grinning at you, "Hey, Cheeks, missed ya."

You didn't know what to say, noticing how people stopped in their tracks to stare at the both of you, whispers starting behind raised hands.

"W-What are you doing here, Touya?" Your cheeks blushed as the wetness of your lashes reminded you of your recent doubts.

"I'm here to see my girl." He circled one arm around your waist, rasping, "I'm sorry, but my dad kept me busy yesterday so I couldn't talk much."

"Oh," you replied as his hand slipped behind your nape, pulling you closer.

"I'm gonna make it up to you, ok?" He leaned his forehead against yours, his perfect turquoise eyes glancing right into yours. "Let's spend the rest of the day together."

You only nodded, brain empty, just filled with his scent, his warmth, his low seductive voice in your ears. It made a certain heat rise inside of you again and you clenched your thighs, secretly cursing him for having such an effect on you. 

Then Touya dipped his head down to press his warm lips against yours, not caring about the increasing number of onlookers. All thoughts left your brain when the wet tip of his tongue flicked across your lips, demanding entrance. His hand moved to your cheek to tilt your head so he could kiss you even deeper. With the rasp of his warm tongue against yours, you tangled your fingers in his hair, making him moan into your open mouth. His kiss, his touch, had your stomach in knots within seconds.

When you both pulled away for a brief moment to breathe, he groaned "God, I missed this." 

He tugged you back towards him, his tongue plunging into your mouth. You felt hot all over, your skin tingling in anticipation, as your desire for him built inside of you. He shuddered slightly when you worked your hand under his shirt, not thinking about anything but wanting to touch him, feel him.

Being in his arms again, feeling him so close, felt heavenly. 

You shivered, wetness pooling in your pants again, “Touya—”

"Bro, what the fuck?" An all too familiar voice interrupted over the whispers of the surrounding onlookers. "You kissing in public?"

Touya groaned and broke the kiss, straightening up. "Got a problem with that, dumbass?"

"Maybe," Keigo approached, raking his manicured hand through his blond hair.

Coming to a stop in front of you, Keigo hooked his thumbs into his expensive Gucci jeans as he took both of you in. "So Cheeks, can I have a kiss as well—?"

"No, you fucking can't." He hissed, his arms circling protectively around your figure. "Don't even think about touching her."

"Touya, I'm sure he didn't mean it like that." You tried to intervene.

Touya looked straight ahead at Keigo. "Oh yes, he did."

"Yep Birdie, I would love to have a taste of you…" Keigo winked at you.

You blink twice, taking a moment to process his words.

“Piss off, Keigo." Touya hissed.

But the blond man wasn't phased at all by the threat.

"Why not?” Keigo smirked, ruffling his hair. “Are you, like dating or what? Cause, you never date---”

You froze and averted your eyes, afraid of his answer because you still weren't sure what this meant to him.

“Of course we are,” Touya said, unfazed, drawing you closer to him.

"W-We are?" Your stomach somersaulted, heart rising to your throat at his words.

"Sure Cheeks, what else did you think?" Seeing you with disbelief in your eyes he rolled his eyes at you. "That this was just a one-night stand? You disappoint me—"

"Her reaction doesn't surprise me at all." Keigo's teasing smirk split into a full-blown grin, "Never took you for a relationship type of guy."  

Touya’s head spun around to face his friend.

"Me on the other hand," Keigo mused, grinning suspiciously at you, "I am all for a serious relationship, just saying."

"Shut it, Keigo," Touya growled upon his words, visibly irritated. "She's mine."

Looking at Keigo you noticed the corners of his mouth wobbling suspiciously, as his eyes flicked to yours before focusing back on Touya.

Oh. Ohhh—

You found yourself holding back your giggles, watching the scene now unravel in front of you from a different perspective.

"Well, ok," Keigo wiggled his eyebrows at you, "My offer's still up though."

Touya growled deep and threatening. "Keigo, I'm warning you—"

The blonde shrugged at the threat before continuing with a big mischievous grin. "So, was he any good? Cause I'm much better—"

"You motherfuckin–" Keigo barely dodged Touya's fist and spun around to run off cackling, only for your boyfriend to take after him.

"I'm also much bigger than him!" You heard Keigo yell, followed by Touya's angry howl.

You couldn't help but burst out laughing looking after them running down the hall like two little children. Needless to say, this was the best start to college for you after all.

[lazycats-stuff]

hallo! hope ur having a good day/night

if you don't mind me requesting, price from cod x civilian male reader (probably in his late 40s/early 50s) who just have the mom energy in him with his knitted cardigan like he always cook food for john (or the whole whenever they visit) and always fussing about his husband's well being

Of course I don't mind! Everyone loves the mom energy.

Summary: (Y/N) Price is the civilian husband of John Price. He worried about the team and his husband.

Warnings: Fluff, worried reader, the other 3 are the kids, injuries, mom energy.

(Y/N) Price was in the house he shared with his husband John. John in a military man, a leader of 141 Task Force, a force tasked with weeding out terrorists all around the globe. They have been together for a long time, even before John got into the army. They got married a little after gay marriage was legal in the UK.

There wasn't really a ceremony, just Price and him signing documents and then later celebrated with their families. John was the one who was always saying that he got lucky with (Y/N). Price has seen a lot of bloodshed, a lot of killings and he always separated his job and home life.

He never brought his job home. That was one of the promises that he promised to (Y/N) when he enlisted. (Y/N) didn't know what to think, but knew that it was to protect him from all the horrors and violence he faced.

And that meant that John's teammates didn't know he was married. They find out one day when they got back from a grueling mission and (Y/N) was waiting for his husband, just ready to pick him up and help him rest.

The rest of the team watched in silence as the two man embraced and then kissed. It wasn't until Soap broke the silence and John introduced his husband to his teammates. He knew they wouldn't judge his sexuality, but was kind of worried about (Y/N) hugging Ghost.

(Y/N) was a person who greeted everyone with a hug, but with Ghost, he must have sensed something and just greeted him with a handshake. Price had excused them both and they left the base, going to their cozy home.

Afterwards, there were visits from the team and somehow, they all got cards for their birthdays and cookies sent through John. Even Ghost got one for his birthday, but (Y/N) doesn't send him one on Christmas.

(Y/N) looked up from his knitting when he heard the door unlocking. (Y/N) was confused when he saw John and the team walking in. He stood up, setting aside his knitting needles.

" What's going on? " (Y/N) asked, confused. They are supposed to be on a mission.

And they supposed to come back in a few days.

" We needed a place to stay. We ran into a problem on the mission. And I know that pro- " John started, but (Y/N) cut him off.

" Hang on. Is anyone injured? I have first aid kit in the bathroom. " (Y/N) asked, looking at the other men.

" Everybody just got scratches and bruises. " Price tried to explain, but (Y/N) could see that Price was lying.

" John, I know you since we were kids. I know that you are hiding something from me. " (Y/N) said, crossing his arms.

" Okay, well, I kind of got shot- "

" What?! Are you okay?! " (Y/N) said, moving closer to his husband.

" I'm fine, we patched it up. " John tried to ease the worries of his husband, but (Y/N) wasn't having it.

" Everyone, make yourselves comfortable while I make sure my husband is okay. " (Y/N) said, dragging his husband to the bathroom.

" (Y/N)- "

" John, show me. " (Y/N) demanded, crossing his arms.

" (Y/N), I'm fine, we patched it up. " John said, cupping (Y/N)'s face.

" I don't care, show me. " (Y/N) said and John sighed.

He started removing the tactical gear and (Y/N) watched him. When John took his shirt off and (Y/N) saw bandages on his chest. He moved closer to it and gently touched it.

" Does it hurt? " (Y/N) asked, looking at Price's face.

" No love, it doesn't. " Price said softly, hugging his husband. (Y/N) sighed, trying not worry now. John is fine.

" Alright. But still. Tell me when you are injured. " (Y/N) said, giving Price a kiss.

" I just don't want to worry you. " John said, holding (Y/N)'s hands.

" John, you always worry me when you are away. But when you are here, I want to know what is wrong. And also, I know you since we were kids and we have been together for a long time. " (Y/N) said softly.

Price just nodded and kissed his husband once more.

" Now, put your shirt on. I have to check on your 3 sons. " (Y/N) said, making Price sigh. " They are not my sons. " Price retorted.

" Yeah, sure. " (Y/N) said, making Price sigh once more.

" Alright kids, " (Y/N) said, walking back into the living room. The trio turned their heads to watch what (Y/N) was saying. " Is anyone hungry? "

Everyone nodded their heads and (Y/N) chuckled. Of course they were.

" Does anybody have any suggestions? " (Y/N) asked, moving to the kitchen.

" Anything. We haven't been eating anything fulfilling. " Soap said from the couch.

" Alright then. Give me an hour to make something nice. "

Price smiled sadly, walking up from behind to hug his husband from behind.

" I'm sorry for bringing work home. " Price whispered into (Y/N)'s ear.

" It was an emergency. I get it. And besides, I can defend myself. You made sure of that. " (Y/N) said, taking stuff out of the fridge.

" I know, but still. I promised you that. Also, is that a new cardigan? " John asked his husband feeling the soft cardigan.

" Yup. I am in the process of making you a matching one. " (Y/N) said, turning his head to kiss his husband.

" I love you. " John whispered into his ear.

" I love you too John. "