#call of duty blackout

[8-rae-rae-8]

Yoinked off my server

[writer-of-various]

Tank Dempsey | BO4 Blackout

His lips 🤭 I love this man forever and always ❤️

[the-whispers-of-death]

katie's very much so enjoying being the younger sibling. she takes on blackout really easily after he befriends rosemary. frost... maybe less so. but she does treat them like theyre both her older brothers

katie: ... what the fuck are you doing here, last i checked you dont have the keys

frost: kids shouldnt curse. and blackout invited me in :3

katie: im NOT a kid. and blackout isnt even *home* right now!

frost: .......... uhhh your catgirl girlfriend thing did it? :) ((seriously why is a cat named after a bug smh))

katie: ... i heard that.

katie: and im telling mom youre being mean to me and mārīte. have fun not getting dessert. she made tiramisu as well. sucks to suck doesnt it

~ rusty

Frost, hiding the key to the house that he secretly made: You're such a snitch, what do you mean you're going to tell Mom that I'm being mean to you and Mārīte? Wait, why am I call Rosemary "Mom"? Anyways, I'm not being mean!

Frost finding himself being adopted by Rosemary is a funny thought to me. He was just here to make sure Rosemary and Katie are treating Blackout well, and now he's adopted by her.

Classic.

Blackout comes home and asks Frost what he did to not get any dessert. He hides a giggle when Katie and Frost go back and forth on whether or not Frost was actually being mean.

[onlycodcanjudgeme]

Lights Out: Black Ops

Twists and turns. Bullets and burns. Voice in your head. Listening to the dead.

The Longest Timeline COD series of them all, spanning across more than 160+ years, the Black Ops series gives a historical fantasy/historical fiction view of what the world could have looked like with a little gas and a lot of mind games. Survive the Battle of Stalingrad with Reznov and Petrenko. Solve the riddles in Mason’s and Bell’s heads. Fight for forgiveness with David Mason. Fear the tech takeover with Jessica Mason-Green and Jacob Hendricks. Black Ops brings a unique concept to the COD franchise that leaves an impact on its players forever.

Share your Black Ops themed creations with us by tagging us at @onlycodcanjudgeme ! We’ll try and reblog as many as we can today !

[phantasm-echo]

POV: you wake up in the middle of your own autopsy with force powers then immediately get brainwashed into falling to the dark side

I was reminded of the fact that I haven’t drawn inquisitor!fives’ autopsy scars in way too long so here I am, delivering a few too many Fives 💀

Anyway I know I don’t post much about the AU on here so props to anyone who knows what’s going on here even slightly, I’ve decided to nerf siren!echo (who WAS part of this AU yes I know quite random) but since him being turned into a siren kinda limits what I can do with him story wise he is now an AU of the AU.

That means the name I came up with for the au (dead mean walking/swimming or dmw(s) as I’ve been tagging it) is kinda irrelevant. I’ll just call this the inquisitor fives AU but if you have any AU name suggestions feel free to drop them.

Here are some of the major factors of the AU:

It gets worse before it gets better

(WARNING: there are quite a few heavy topics covered in the AU such as torture, dehumanisation and su*cidal thoughts, so pls read at your own discretion)

- fives wakes up in the middle of his own autopsy with force sensitivity, then gets brainwashed into falling to the Dark Side by Palpatine. As an Inquisitor, he does not remember anything about his life because those memories were blocked by Palpatine.

- Palpatine discovers that Fives is essentially immortal, and any injuries inflicted on him will heal no matter how bad.

- when echo gets rescued from skako minor, he is recalled to Kamino for experimentation, first of all so they can figure out what the Techno Union did to him, second of all to see how he survived his injuries. Nala se, who knows that fives came back to life, theorises that since he and echo were tube twins they share the “immortality”. He is kept on Kamino for VERY extensive experimentation where terrible things happen to him (cough vivisection cough lobotomy) and so never joins Clone Force 99 even if he did work with them on Anaxes.

- Fives in this time is sent out on many missions by Palpatine that involve him unaliving many people, and after the rise of the Empire he hunts a few Jedi.

- Fox, who throughout the war had experienced many blackout missions where he woke up afterwards covered in blood, is the last living Coruscant Guard commander. (Thorn dies, stone vanishes one day, Thire mistakes Vader for a Jedi and pays the price) Despite the best efforts of his son secretary Dogma (no way!?) Fox has very little will to live, is extremely depressed and borderline suicidal, he would like nothing more than to bite the dust, but still feels he has a duty to the very few remaining corries and so tries to keep it together (he is failing)

- one day Palpatine decides he doesn’t need Fox to do his bidding anymore since he has much better assets at his disposal (Fives), and decides it would be ironic to sic his pet clone inquisitor onto Fox. Fives still doesn’t remember anything, and only knows that Fox is responsible for the main scars on his body and believes fox is the reason he doesn’t remember most of his life, and so sets out to kill fox. They battle it out (ref to that one animation wip I posted) and fives is on the verge of killing fox (who didn’t really try to fight that much, like I said he would very much like to die and dying at the hand of the vod he “killed” seems fitting to him) when he gets a sudden vision of echo.

- all fives knows is echo is extremely important to him and must be rescued and that snaps him out of palpatine’s control. He knows he probably can’t rescue echo alone, and since fox has already been betrayed by the empire he decides “fuck it” and basically kidnaps fox and they run. They make a deal, that once echo has been found, Fives will put Fox out of his misery (fox feels that fives should be the only person to kill him, and only goes along with the plan because he refuses to let anyone else kill him)

- fox and fives proceed to go on an intergalactic road trip to “rescue echo” even though neither of them know how to do that. They become closer friends throughout, and fives slowly regains bits and pieces of the Before

- meanwhile during the destruction of Kamino, the bad batch stumble on echo and rescue him and he stays with them for a little bit before leaving with Rex

- meanwhile Dogma helps the rest of the remaining Corries desert, kills too many storm troopers, and tries to go after his buir fox and the bastard inquisitor who kidnapped him

This is the main stuff you need to know for the AU haha so if you’ve got new name suggestions I’m all ears ty!!

[moonmanager]

Call of duty blackout logo png

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[alabamaonline]

Call of duty blackout trial

It also features Rush, a 6v6 map that "takes place in and around a speedball course. Players also have access to 12v12 Moshpit and the 40-player multi-team Moshpit with Team Deathmatch.

The NukeJacked 24/7 playlist will have the Nuketown '84 and Hijacked maps. If it still keeps occurring which, given the replies to Xbox Support’s tweet, seems like it could be, we’d recommend waiting for a more permanent fix, or reinstalling Black Ops Cold War. In the Multiplayer mode, players will be able to access NukeJacked 24/7, Party Games, Paintball Moshpit, and more. Hopefully, by following these steps you should be able to resolve the Blackout Trial issue. Warzone players will also be able to carry forward their weapons and global-level progress. The access to the free trial comes after the release of season four of the game. The players will only be able to access the Multiplayer mode and Zombies mode during the free trial period. The new free trial mode for Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War will start from July 22 and end on July 29 for players on PC, PlayStation 5, PlayStation 4, Xbox Series X, Xbox Series S, and Xbox One consoles. The company confirmed that between the 17th and 24th of January, you will be able to play the Blackout Free Trial and discover Treyarch Studios’ interpretation of the popular game mode. Developer Activision has also mentioned that users playing the game for the first time will be able to carry forward their progress from the free trial mode after it has ended. Call of Duty: Black Ops 4 will have Blackout Trial Activision has announced that you will be able to try Call of Duty: Black Ops 4 battle royale for free.

However, users will not be able to play the single-player campaign mode during the free trial period. The free access will be available for players across multiple platforms.

Call of Duty: Back Ops Cold War is giving its players an opportunity to try out its Multiplayer and Zombies mode for free for a total of eight days.

[shotmrmiller]

the possibilities for bullying a girl into an inescapable marriage are endless … soap finding a girl from a catholic family, getting her into bed, then ‘accidentally’ letting it slip to her family and nodding along when her mother is like ‘you have to marry him it’s the only way to save yourself from sin’

price in vegas getting blackout drunk with some sweet thin he met at the casino bar, and both of them waking up in the morning with rings. so what if price wasn’t really that drunk? reader doesn’t need to know that.

ghost who convinces you to marry him for the benefits so he gets better housing and you get his health insurance. you think it’s purely transactional, so imagine your surprise when he starts expecting you to perform your other spousal duties and threatens to kill the guy you were gonna go on a date with.

gaz who agrees to be your fake boyfriend for a family dinner, so you don’t have to suffer through another round of ‘what do you mean you’re still single? when am i getting grandbabies?’ only to realize your mistake too late when you catch him in the kitchen with your mother, promising her she’s getting grandbabies soon.

soap's just looking at her mom like he hadn't a clue that it was that serious for "catholics" and he'll do right by them both and take her hand in marriage as if he doesn't have a crucifix around his neck that gleams against coarse hair and pale scars. as if he doesn't remember his ma giving him sharp twists to the ear because he'd made them late for sunday mass again. ofc not. and if he knows certain prayers, he'd learned for his future wife. obviously.

price is def the type to befriend the loud, drunken girl on vacation in some party city he'd just finished a job in. buys her drink after drink because she'd said she can hold her own. unsurprisingly, she was all talk no walk. she calls him handsome once, threads her fingers into his greying hair and his first stop is the nearest jewelry store. he doesn't touch the new mrs. price as she sleeps off the alcohol, he wants her awake for what he's got planned. (ghost ofc hears of his new wife and sends him a congrats text)

ghost gets signed up on tinder by soap against his knowledge will and when soap matches him with some girl only looking for fun, simon decides he's gonna give her more than that and if she's the type to try to kick him out the morning after, he's calling price to forge her signature onto a marriage certificate. (price eventually meets her and he's just like "shouldntve fed him, love. should've known he wouldn't leave." rip a girl just tryna have some sex)

kyle tells her that he needs a gf for the weekend because there's a wedding, soaps wedding actually, and she agrees. (every time she corrects him to his plus one he simply repeats himself.) he immediately goes back on his promise, "i won't even touch ya," cuz his hand is constantly roaming south, he sits her on his lap whether she wants it or not, and during the slow dancing he's prying her mouth open with his for, "just one kiss." if he fucks her in the groom's dressing room during the dinner, no he didn't. (he needs his hands on her, no one believes that they're dating:(

[bluecollarmcandtf]

How to Use Your Meat Suit

I can't believe how awesome this weekend was! Let's just say that the perfect way to avoid a hangover is to just possess randos to take the hit for you!

It all started on Friday, when I took Tyler just as he got out of practice. He never saw it coming, and once his body was an empty suit for me to wear, I was ready to hop in and have the best night of my life!

I could actually feel the lingering adrenaline from his workout, and it was exhilarating! I tossed his bags aside and ran to my house party down the street, which was easy with his limber legs. Everyone went wild when I showed up as the star basketball player. They didn't care about his BO; they were just happy to watch me flex those freshly pumped arms.

Friday night went by in a flash of loud music and crowded dancing, but a lot of people started wondering why Tyler got piss drunk and began grinding against all the guys.

I don't have much to say for myself other than I may have put a little too much alcohol in his body and lost control. Drinking makes me horny, and I sure did not care about Tyler's former reputation. People might not think of him as the cool lady-killer he used to be, but that's not my problem.

Anyways, I dropped his body when a cop busted us around 4 am. I could barely stand, I was so drunk, so I'm not surprised Tyler collapsed to the floor the second I stopped puppeteering him.

I jumped into the policeman who'd shown up.

It was weird to go from blackout drunk to stone-cold sober, but I quickly gathered my bearings. Now in control of the cop, I pried the drink from Tyler's sweaty limp fingers and sloppily swallowed it all! The crowd went wild, and the party raged on.

And just like that I went back to dancing and drinking, only I was now wearing the body of an on-duty police officer.

Being a little more sober, I spent the early hours of Saturday morning trying to hook up with someone. I think most of the guys there were a little too intimidated to be talking to a cop, but I eventually found someone.

This guy walked up to me and called me a pig. I think he was trying to offend me, but he only succeeded in turning me on. I pulled him close and oinked in his ear playfully. He got the message and dragged me to an upstairs bedroom. The rest of the night was a blur as I continued to down drinks, but I could definitely tell that my date was getting off on degrading the officer I had on.

The officer's body eventually collapsed to the floor in a drunken exhaustion, so I jumped out. It was almost midday by then, so I ventured outside and found someone else to possess.

There was this construction site across the street. Several of the workers were idly chatting about the nearby house party that was still going strong.

Without warning, I hopped into the contractor; he was the only man there that wasn't fat, old, or ugly. He certainly smelled ripe, but I rather enjoyed how filthy he was. Wearing his masculine body instantly tented the pole in his jeans, but I didn't bother trying to hide it from his coworkers.

I quickly ordered them to take the day off, which left them mostly confused. I'm sure I was acting out of character, but I didn't care. I just waved the team away, and marched down the street to a bearby liquor store.

There, I fished out all the cash in the guys wallet to use on booze. It was a good thing his body was strong enough to haul it all back on his shoulders. Though the party was starting to wind down, it quickly revamped when I restocked the drinks. Before long, I was back to drinking and dancing on any guy who'd let me, only this time I was wearing the construction worker's body.

That party lasted all weekend. It quickly became a legend on campus for its good luck and neverending supply of liquor. No one knew that it was all the work of some friendly ghost. I just wanted everyone to have a good time!

The three guys I possessed didn't have the best time though.

Tyler woke up at some point with a splitting headache and no memory of all the twerking and flirting he'd done the night before. He did eventually hear stories, which left him feeling utterly humiliated. His teammates never let him live that one down.

I don't think the cop lost his job, but he was reprimanded for not reporting in after his shift. I think the officer was just glad none of his colleagues knew he'd woken up in the middle of a college party, his uniform soaked in alcohol and who knows what else!

That construction worker woke up just before his next shift. He was completely confused and hungover, but he stifled his worries and shuffled across the street. He was more than happy to just show up at work like nothing had happened.

I'm thinking about throwing another party next week. The Dean of the college has a pretty large house, and I'm sure his students would love to see me letting loose in his body...

[chronicowboy]

"Hey, Buck, you busy tonight?"

It's just the two of them in the locker room. They'd stuck behind to shower off their shifts whilst Hen had rushed home to relieve Karen of baby duty and Chim had sped off for a cake tasting appointment Maddie has been worryingly strict about.

"Yeah, man." Buck tugs on his jacket, watching Eddie fasten his watch out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, he's back at the tailend of an endless shift, blackout over, watching Eddie piece together a breakup in real time. The image of it sends a thrill through him as confusing as it is satisfying. He bites down on it and tastes blood. "Movie night? Like the old days? Or does Young Mr Diaz have another social responsibility he's abandoning us for?"

Eddie huffs a laugh, but it's wistful. Buck gets it, tries to remember the last time they sat down to watch a movie all three of them. Or, well, just the three of them.

"Nah, not tonight." He grimaces a little like he's been thinking the same thing as Buck. "But, uh, I do."

"Ah, I see." Buck nods as he busies himself with his duffel, it's already packed, neat as can be, but he fusses anyway. He can't face Eddie's gentle expression of apology, a sudden fragility in the way he holds himself. "Babysitting duty then?"

Eddie grimaces agin, his face twisting and scrunching and crumpling into a complicated expression of something to the left of disgust. Buck wants to smooth out all the wrinkles in his face until only the smile lines remain, he wants to revel in Eddie's obvious discomfort for reasons he can't explain.

"I wouldn't really call it babysitting."

"Yeah, you're right. Kid'd probably kill me for calling him kid never mind baby." Buck aches a little as he says it, remembers when Chris was small enough to swing up into his arms and over his shoulders, when he'd giggle til he couldn't breathe rather than complain until his lungs gave out from sheer teen angst.

"No, I mean." Eddie sighs, packing his own duffel now, stuffing things in haphazard in a way that always makes Buck feel a little crazy. But then all Buck can think of is whether Eddie's hiding in his duffel for the same reason Buck had. "Hen didn't rush home to babysit, did she?"

If only his duffel bag was big and sentient and hungry enough to swallow him whole. As it is, he just kinds of stops functioning halfway through zipping it up.

"Whuh, um, what?"

"Fair warning though." Eddie swings his duffel over his shoulder. "He's in a crappy mood at the moment. He told you about the new supply teacher who gave him a C on that short story he was really proud of?"

"Bitch," Buck mumbles, still functioning just enough to hate the woman that made Chris feel anything less than proud of his tale of dragon-fighting knights and best friends who Buck thought might have been a little bit in love—he'd been too afraid to ask, too afraid Chris would shut down and start thinking things Buck had to think when he realised who he was as a teenager, too afraid of what Chris had grown up around. Eddie snorts.

"We'll have a movie night soon though," Eddie tells him, still seemingly oblivious to Buck's pretty spectacular implosion. He looks up from his watch, meets Buck's eyes and winks. "Promise." He's off then, leaving Buck staring off into the middle distance like he didn't just turn the world upside down with one sentence. "Oh, um." Eddie smiles down at his shoes a little, rosy cheeked as he pauses in his stride. He glances up at Buck, another moment of hesitation before he drops his hand to Buck's shoulder. "Don't tell him I tipped you off, but he's got a little surprise." Eddie's eyes, molten vats of chocolate Buck wants to sink into, drown in. He's had the thought before. He doesn't know what it means. (He does, he really does.) "He's pretty excited about it, so..."

Eddie squeezes his shoulder once, then he's gone, and Buck. Buck tries to breathe beyond the burning want in his chest.

He's not going home to babysit. He's just going home to his kid.

[the-whispers-of-death]

katie: i dunno, without my glasses on, you look like you could be my grandpa... ... damn i think i need new glasses

... dont let frost know there is, in fact, secret tunnels. yknow the disney underground tunnel system? they basically have that too. the mansion is almost palatial in size, i feel.

i think that mārīte has a few of her hidey-holes there too. its all cement, perfect to lay on on a hot summer day.. who give a shit about having a beach day with her girlfriend, mārīte is living it mtvcribs style in the t u n n e l

~ rusty

Frost: Ha, she called you old.

Blackout: You're only a year older than me! You're old too!

[kiingfluffybuns]

Okay, I just gotta rant a bit about TGED, and probably will get other opinions, and that's great, so please share them!

Also, this is mostly my speculation, I have ONLY read the webtoon, and I haven't been able to find the novel properly translated to read, so have mercy.

SO. I know that og!Lloyd was a bully to Javier and Julien and all that jazz, but it looked to me that he was an alcoholic that desperately needed help.

He lashed out and thew fits to call the attention of his parents, that he was sure as hell they were going to replace him with Javier at any point. (Bc let's be real, the Frontera's affection seems heavily conditional)

Arcos was pretty okay by letting Javier do whatever he wanted, becoming a knight was his choice and he did everything to make that happen.

Then, we have Javier's duties, that was to watch over 'Lloyd', which that also more or less what he did because he wasn't with Lloyd all the time.

The Fronteras were more than okay by letting him leave their alcoholic son alone and drunk somewhere in town. Which was what killed him by falling n breaking his head,,,, that wouldn't have happened if Javier was actually there,,,,

The there's this detail I noticed in the imagery, in most cases it's suggested that Javier is confused as the heir and novel bc he's handsome, but that's not it.

it's bc he gives a novels profile. And the reason is his clothes.

Javier seems to be dressing like the proper heir, and wears the same style as Arcos Frontera, meanwhile Lloyd is left to dress like a commoner. That's why he's confused as Javier's servant, bc he looks like it.

Arcos Frontera didn't want to deal with an alcoholic son, he had enough on his plate by letting his estate become in debt and bc of his spineless attitude.

He was most likely replace Lloyd with Javier, or make Julian the heir. He was ignoring Lloyd, and just paying attention when he caused damage to the town. Because then it would come back to him.

He didn't actually cared if he died in a ditch.

I don't justify og!Lloyd's behavior at all, but I understand what was going with him. He was mad, he was jealous, and he was frustrated, and the only thing that made him feel better was some drinks.

He was so depressed he wanted to be blackout drunk, and that killed him anyway.

I'm honestly very much into how our!Lloyd has put such boundaries with the Fronteras, bc he's a guest in his own home. He wants to lazy around, but he doesn't actually do it at home, he did it once and immediately got an excuse to go out and work.

But anyway, this is such my own analysis on the matter, I find absolutely fascinating the takes this webtoon has taken over the Isekai trope, and how that affects to those around the mc.

[mlmxreader]

The Accidental Husband | Johnny Cage x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ okay but here me out...when johnny and all of them are chilling in that bar,,,Skarlet introduces his younger brother (m!reader) Johnny immediately starts flirting with him and m!reader admits that he’s a huge fan of his movies and they both get too drunk and wake up in a random hotel room with wedding rings on bc they got married while blackout drunk 😩 ❞

: ̗̀➛ your sister introduces you to a... friend of hers, although things go a little too well.

: ̗̀➛ heavy drinking/alcohol consumption, swearing, reader is adopted/not a blood relative to Skarlet

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

A long, long time ago, Skarlet had taken pity on a young boy who had no family; he was younger than she was, starving and scared. She wasn't sure what else to do with him, so she took the boy as her own brother; she helped raise him, and although he was never any good at Blood Magik, he showed promise elsewhere.

For years, it was just you and your sister, and when you were a little older, she allowed Liu Kang to introduce you to Kuai Liang; you showed promise within the Lin Kuei where you stayed. Skarlet visited as often as she could, despite the protests of the Grandmaster. It was there that you discovered Johnny Cage's films, and although some of them were absolutely awful, you would watch anything with him in it.

You were a huge fan, but you figured that it would be embarrassing to admit such a thing, especially to your own sister; she would never stop teasing you about it if she ever knew. So you kept it quiet.

You told Kuai Liang, only because he caught you skipping duties to watch one of Cage's new films; he just smiled and shook his head, telling you to crack on as soon as the film ended. Kuai Liang was always good to you like that; calm, reassuring, strong and patient. Gentle.

You looked up to him, and when you accidentally called him Uncle, he never held it against you or told your sister; but Kuai Liang was the closest thing you ever had to a father, and although he never treated you any differently to the other Lin Kuei, he was always kind.

He even allowed you to have "extra training" with his brother Tomas, which merely meant an excuse to watch Johnny Cage's films for a few hours together.

When you were trained enough to go out on your own, nearly halfway through your twenties, Skarlet picked you up. She took you to the nearest city, and as she was walking with you, she couldn't help but to laugh smugly to herself.

You were a little apprehensive, and couldn't understand why she wore a long, flowing red and black dress instead of her usual armour. It seemed a bit impractical, even if you were wearing a black hoodie and pale grey jogging bottoms that had been given to you by Tomas.

"I've got someone to introduce you to," she told you with a sly smile.

You looked at her with a raised brow. "Please tell me it's not Erron. You know I told him I wasn't interested."

"No," Skarlet shook her head. "It's someone you've never met before, and- in here."

You followed her into a nice restaurant, a little apprehensive; your sister could scheme and could be sly. She taught you how to do so yourself, but you knew that you could always trust her and that, if she had someone who she wanted you to meet, then you could probably trust them.

So you shrugged, and when she brought you to a quieter table, you didn't really question much. She ordered a glass of red wine while you got yourself an energy drink with a shot of vodka. Idle conversation with your sister followed until the drinks arrived, but just as you were about to take your first swig, you nearly choked on nothing.

"Is that-"

"Johnny Cage," Skarlet smiled, standing up and shaking his head. "You showed up."

Johnny nodded. "Well, yeah, Kuai Liang told me it was important - might be useful for my next film and-"

"Holy. Shit."

He looked at you, taking note of your appearance, and grinned. "Hello, handsome."

"Hi," you said quietly, feeling all too nervous. "I, uhm… hi."

Johnny pushed past your sister to sit next to you, his arm stretched out across the back of your chair. "I'm Johnny."

"I, I'm- I know," you said softly, hoping you didn't look too much like a deer in the headlights. He was even more handsome up close.

"He's a big fan," Skarlet told him. "Johnny, meet my brother."

Johnny laughed softly, not taking his attention from you. "Big fan?"

You nodded. Words had left you, and you weren't sure if you wanted them back or not. He was so pretty with his big brown eyes and his silly grin. You swallowed thickly, laughing nervously. "Sorry…"

"Oh, don't be," he shook his head. "If I knew all my fans were this good looking, I think I'd have it written into my contract that my press tours should be longer."

You laughed softly. "Thank you…"

Skarlet rolled her eyes, knowing her job had been done; she finished her glass of wine, and walked away, making sure to give the staff a tip before she left properly.

Johnny looked you up and down shamelessly. "Y'know, you've got leading man looks - have you ever thought about acting?"

You shook your head, stuttering nervously. "Uh, no…"

"You should," he mused. "You could really make it big, looking like that… Kuai Liang trained you, right?"

You nodded. "And Tomas."

"So he's handsome and he can fight," Johnny grinned. "Let me guess, you can cook and clean, too?"

"Yu-yeah."

"The full package," he put his hand on your shoulder. "How are you not married?"

You shrugged. "Just not something I ever, uhm… it's just not, uhm…"

"Don't be nervous," Johnny said quietly, moving to sit a little closer. "I know I'm a big time, handsome, movie star - but you're in safe hands with me… although… it's probably me who's in safe hands with you, right?"

You laughed softly, and Johnny felt his head spin a little at the sound; you knocked back your shot of vodka, hoping it would give you some confidence. "I, uhm…I need a drink."

"It's on me," Johnny told you, flagging down the waiter and getting six shots. The first round. "Handsome guy like you… it's only right I should buy your drinks."

You felt like your heart was going to pop out of your chest; Johnny Cage, a man you had been a fan of for who knew how many years, thought you were handsome. Fuck. You knew that the night would end somewhere wonderful. You didn't really want it to end.

There was one round, then another, and another, and you lost track after you started kissing Johnny in the alleyway after you had gone out for a cigarette; you weren't really sure what happened after that, but when you woke up, you were confused.

It was clearly a hotel room given the pristine painted walls and the lack of dust, the duvet around your waist was white and soft, yet a little stale. There was someone in the bed next to you, and when you gently pulled back the duvet, you wanted to scream.

Johnny Cage was in your bed. Or you were in his. Either way.

He turned over, opening one eye as he grinned.

"Hello, handsome."

"Johnny Cage is in my bed," you breathed out, staring at him.

"Mild correction, sweetheart," he groaned, sitting upright and stretching a little. "You're in my bed."

He still had his trousers on from the previous night. You were still fully clothed. You sighed a little with relief. "I'm… I'm in your bed?"

"Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "To be honest, I'm not really sure how we got here, I can't remember anything after kissing you but… y'know, I'm not one to kick a guy so handsome out."

You laughed softly, flopping down onto your back and covering your face with your hands as you grinned; but that's when you noticed it. The gold band on your ring finger. "Johnny?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I think something did happen last night," you murmured. "I'm wearing a ring…"

Johnny looked at his own ring finger, and barked out a laugh when he saw. "So am I."

"Well, fuck."

"Hey, this might not be all that bad," he told you, pulling your hands away from your face and straddling your waist. "At least it gives me a chance to know my biggest fan."

Your hands went to his waist by instinct as you bit down on the inside of your bottom lip. "You… you mean that?"

"Oh, yeah," he nodded, leaning over and letting his arms rest on the mattress either side of your head. "What?"

"Nothing, I… just…" you shrugged. "I dunno…"

"C'mere," Johnny whispered, gently and softly kissing you. He smiled when you buried your hands in his soft brown hair, getting his legs between yours as he nipped at your bottom lip softly. "What'd you say, huh? Me and you, husbands, and if it doesn't work out, I'll make sure you're taken care of - money, a house, whatever you want, baby."

You nodded. "Like dating?"

"With extra steps."

"Alright," you agreed with a soft laugh. "I… it's not what Kuai Liang would've wanted for me, but… fuck it. Uncle Liang can fuck himself."

"Perfect," Johnny grinned, trailing his hand down to your waist. "Do you want any breakfast, baby?"

"Yeah, I could eat," you nodded. "Thank you."

"I'm your husband," he teased softly. "It's my job to look after you."

[r0-boat]

Hear me out, flying type hybrid darling using their wings to hug their partner.

Like 'preening' their partner's hair and hiding their feathers in their partner's clothes; chirping / hooting happily when their partner come back home with hands full of their feathers like a silly game

(Can be anyone you like I just cant get this thought out my head haha)

Now I am absolutely obsessed with shipping Larry with monster reader. And when I saw Harpy reader I dived for it aaa.

The characters I will do is Larry, Warden Ingo, Leon,

Various characters (pokemon) reaction to their beloved as a flying type hybrid harpy.

Larry

You just showed up one night scratching in his back door with your sharp claws. You were looking for nesting material the day before you never asked a human for some this human seemed shocked But ultimately gave you some cloth it was strong yet soft and smelled nice. This human was nice : )

As a flying-type trainer, he knows some of the mannerisms you have. He thinks it's cute when you preen his hair or make a small nest out of his clothes because you missed him. Sometimes, he would show you how humans court and then do the same thing to you

And his coworkers and boss are none the wiser when he starts finding feathers in his suit all day. They just assumed that he had a new flying type Pokemon and not a hybrid birb spouse. Even so, coming to work covered in feathers isn't professional, but he can't bring himself to tell you to stop. He knows you're doing this out of love for him. Maybe Larry will ask you if he could wear one feather and put it in his pocket.

Your feathers are just so soft when you wrap your wings around him. He can't help but cuddle into you and fall asleep. He can feel your nails thread through his hair, mimicking the way he touches you.

Before stepping into his house, he could hear the excited tapping of your feet as you do your happy dance. The little bird hops with your feathers all fluffed before yelling his name and throwing feathers all over the place. His home life has never been this exciting, and he can't help but smile.

Warden Ingo

You struggle the flap of your wings, kicking up the snow on the ground. The Searing pain in your left wing and arm is almost overwhelming. Your energy is slowly draining as your body struggles to keep warm. Your feathery down kept you from freezing for a while, but how long will that last? Has the wind begun to pick up? You hold your broken arm close to your chest, trying to keep in your subs of pain as you huddle your wings closer together, desperate to cling to any ounce of warmth; your vision blurs and your brain tells your body to conserve energy. The only thing you saw when you began to blackout was a man in a long coat approaching.

You were protective of the man who saved your life—wrapping your wings around him not only for affection but also for protection. For some reason, this human was drawn to you. Your beautiful white wings and Feathers jogging his memory of something, though not enough to figure out why.

Every time his Warden duties called, he would leave his cabin even though he had sworn he would go you home somehow, always following him, stalking him in the distance until he was alone. Then, you would appear either from a high ledge of a cliff or a dark cave to brush yourself up against him, cooing for his affection.

Every time he falls asleep, he wakes up to his jacket being stolen and wrapped around you, not that he Minds that you wear it, though he has to tell you to be careful; those sharp talons of yours could easily rip a new hole.

The Striking eyes of his remind you of a Braviary hybrid. You can't help but Preen his hair and put some of your feathers in it. You coo in Delight of how handsome he is. Cuddling close to him and playing and tugging on his clothes.

Leon

Wherever he was, this was definitely not the Pokemon Center. In fact, this wasn't a town at all. He didn't even know how he got so high up in the mountains. Leon swore he was following a path. As he continued to wander, getting himself more and more lost, it wasn't before long that the sun began to set. Still, he took this challenge with a smile despite being low on supplies. He was in the wilderness. They're sure to be some berries somewhere. However, before the sun dipped below the horizon, he saw a blur Bolt from the tree to the dense foliage. It was like lightning, but he could have sworn he saw feathers. The figure was a human shape, a hybrid, perhaps? It stood at a distance where he could barely see it. It stood there tilting its head almost as if it wanted him to follow. As he followed the creature until they were nowhere in sight, that's when he realized he was back on the path.

Almost every encounter with you was by pure chance. You don't even know how he does it; a dumb human gets lost, and then you guide him back suddenly. A month later, he's back?! What the heck?? What is this human's deal!? is he trying to get himself killed?!

You only watch the human to make sure he doesn't get himself killed, not because you think the human is attractive. And you absolutely didn't swoon when you saw that he was wearing the feather you dropped as a necklace.

But unbeknownst to you Leon wasn't just adventuring for adventuring sake he was looking for you. Oh yes the mysterious hybrid that led him back to the path on that night he met you. Hybrids are already so rare, and when you caught his eye, he couldn't help but relive the memory. He not only wanted to meet you, but he wanted to get to know you to understand you. And you were just as infatuated with him as he was with you.

Even though you're instincts told you to court him as a potential mate, you knew that as a human, he couldn't be trusted, but somehow, Leon knew that , he knew that you were wary of him. He didn't blame you. How could he? Thus begins the slow build of trust and your relationship

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Pairing: John Price x fem!oc (3rd person pov)

Word count: 4.4 K

Warnings/tags: smut, p in v sex, established relationship, pet names, suggestive dialogue, swearing, drinking, caught in the rain, stuck in a blackout, couple plays truth or dare, super long winded set up for porn, and a slightly rushed ending

NSFW taglist [opt in/out]: @imogenkol @illmetbymoonlight @roofgeese @efingart @inafieldofdaisies

@raresvtm @evvie-a @an-drawer @clicheantagonist @rc-dragons

@la-grosse-patate @direwombat @solstheimart @statichvm @cassietrn

@lady-eudaemonia @strafethesesinners @thedeadthree @voidika @mutantthedark

@strangefable @simplegenius042 @writeforfandoms @quantum-lover @heroofshield

Rain pelts down on the concrete streets of London, the scent of cool drops hitting hot pavement one of the rare scents that could only be attributed to summer in the middle of the city – not quite petrichor, but that bleach clean scent of ozone remained apparent as the storm builds to its height. Thunder booms, shrouding once sunny skies in clouds the colour of deep bruises, shades of purple and green, while lightning cracks in bright luminescent streaks worthy of ancient beliefs in Thor or Zeus’ wrath.

Amongst the masses splashing through the quickly pooling puddles, John rushes Rory inside their townhouse, his jacket held over their heads as a deterrent from the rain, though it does little good as the precipitation pours with the steady flow of a broken faucet on full blast, an absolute deluge coming down at once. They're soaked. Drowned rats with matted hair and sopping wet layers of clothing glued to their forms. 

Once inside the four walls meant to shelter them, they are no safer from the clutches of the storm. Rory flicks at the switch by the front door – click-click, click-click – doing nothing at all. The interior of the townhouse left tenebrous, shadows creeping in from the darkened corners. “Bollocks,” she mutters under her breath, heading to the coat closet and grabbing the candles and battery-operated lamps in her power outage kit – even in an unplanned crisis the woman is never unprepared. 

Water sloshes off of her as she moves about, dripping down the contours of her face from her drenched hair as John grumbles, peeling off waterlogged shoes and socks by the front door, his jacket in no better shape. “Worse spots we could be in, love. At least we’re at ‘ome, liquor cabinet stocked, gas is still on so we can cook the perishables.” “Yes. Yes, I know. Ever the pragmatist, John,” she snarks before heading to the kitchen for the lighter. “Comes with being a Captain.”

His reply is muffled as he moves down the hall, the sound of wet bare feet slapping on hardwood floors following after him, and she rolls her eyes. “Well make sure ‘the captain’ mops up after himself, yeah? Don’t need puddles on my floor,” she calls back. Rory begins lighting candles and placing them around the kitchen, filling the space with the warm amber glow of firelight flickering as a draught from the open window flows throughout. Entering moments later, John rubs a towel through his hair and tosses it at her after she places the last candle on the table in the corner nook. 

“Cheers.” She runs the terry cloth through damp strands, rustling it back and forth, leaving her hair a wild, haphazard mess of waves. “So, what do we do to pass the time for the next however many hours?”

A smirk is the only reply she receives from the bulky man in her periphery. Piercing eyes, normally steely and hard while focused on war and staying alive, sparkle with playful intent. A life to them that Rory only finds in their moments alone. The man who, when they’re miles away from base, gets to fold up and pack away things like duty and honor the way he does his clean laundry neatly into drawers.

“Fuck off, you do not have the refractory period of a 15 year old boy, pillock.” Tossing the soggy towel back at him with a grin, it slaps against his barrel chest like a dead octopus. A hearty chuckle fills the room, blue eyes sparkling from behind crinkled lines in his face. “Mind out o’the gutter, my girl. Was just gonna say we could take a nap.” Bouncing on his heels, proud as a peacock with the way he grins at her. 

She hums skeptically, “Is that so?” Her fingers curl around her hips as she stands before him, challenging him like always. “And Soap doesn’t have a bloody rolodex going of numbers he gets from the bar.” “That may be so,” John purrs, drawing closer, dropping off the soggy towel onto the top of the kitchen island. Strong arms wrap around her waist as he stands behind her, drawing her closer to him, grinding his hips against her backside. His mouth near her ear, the bristles of his beard tickle her cheek. “But I think we can both agree after going a round or two together, a rest is often necessary,” he breathes seductively, voice rough and low with desire. “Isn’t that right, love?” “So much for my mind being the one in the gutter.”

He tips his head to the side, angling it to better kiss the side of her neck, plush lips softly pressing to sensitive skin. “Could do something else instead with our time,” Rory offers.

“Like what?” He mumbles against her, lost in his own advances while nuzzling against her slick flesh. Collecting drops of rainwater that roll down the smooth column of her neck on his whiskers.

“Truth or dare? Share a bottle of whiskey while we do it?”

His laugh is a deep rumble in his chest, vibrating against her slender body and through her back as his hands knead at moist clothing cleaving to her frame. “You want to play a bloody kid’s party game?” 

Rory shrugs, nonchalant. “Why not?” “Sure know how to drive a hard bargain, Sinclair,” he snickers.

“Oi, on your bike.” Her elbow moves to gently nudge him in the stomach, her nose wrinkling as she plays up her mock annoyance.  

“Fine. Are we playin’ ‘7 minutes in Heaven’ while we’re at it then?” A lopsided smile pulling at his mouth as his brow cocks.

“That’s for afterwards.” With a frisky wink she grabs a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the counter. “Now, come on.” Placing them on the floor, she sits with her back resting against a cabinet and pours them each a double. The amber liquid streaming in carefully controlled twists of her wrist, she’s a woman well-practiced in the art of a properly measured dram. John sighs and slowly lowers to the floor, careful with his knees and lower back as he settles, his long legs stretched out between his place against the oven door and the kitchen island in front of him. She slides one of the drinks across the tiles towards him and they clink their glasses together in a toast. “To the most ridiculous way two grown military officers could possibly spend their time together.” A bright, lilting giggle fills the space between them as dimples carve into her cheeks. 

“Haven’t done this since before I was at Sandhurst,” he muses quietly, lifting the glass and bringing it to his lips, taking a hefty sip. “Without the drink, ‘course.”

“Oh, of course.”

Sitting in the dark of their kitchen, candles aglow, it was more intimate than it likely should have been considering their choice of entertainment for the foreseeable future while the power was out. Sipping at their drinks, enjoying the smooth, warm burn of the top shelf liquor Rory always had in her collection, they sat together as if it were any other Saturday evening. “Right, sweetheart. Truth or Dare?” John asks, breaking the silence first.

“Truth.”

“Really?” Placing the glass down on the floor beside him with a gentle crystal chime against the dark marble. “Right off the bat, not even going to go for a little danger? What happened to my brave Lieutenant, eh?” His crooked grin appears all the more sinister in the dampened light.

“Yeah, and if I hadn’t said ‘truth’ you would have given me shit about ‘not trusting you’. So piss off, you bloody prat.” He laughs once more, nodding. “Probably right, I just might’ve.” Blue eyes roam around the ebony wood cabinets of the kitchen as he thinks of a fitting question for Rory’s first choice of truth. “Our very first time together – would we have still ended up in the stall if I had the mutton chops?”

Rory, choking on the sip of whiskey she was currently drinking, coughs up the alcohol as she pats her hand against her chest, laughing. Her voice a throaty croak as she speaks, “Fucking hell, not pulling any punches, are we?” “Well?” He remains stoic, waiting for her answer, the brusque response of the Captain and not John. A barely visible curl pulls at the corner of his lips. 

“Probably.” She angles her head to the side and examines him in detail, roaming over him, imagining the baby-faced Lieutenant she met all those years ago with her future husband’s choice of facial hair. “Not exactly a look most girls are used to seeing, however. Few men can pull off the style of someone who would blend in rather nicely in an old west saloon.” A smirk pulling at her full lips as she jokes with him. 

“Probably?” John’s heavy brow furrows as his penetrating gaze lands on her, burning into her like a laser sight.

“Don’t know how the 23-year-old me would’ve felt about them.” Her one shoulder lifts in a shrug. She’s never been anything but honest with him, John having always appreciated her bluntness.

“Ah, so it takes a more mature and refined woman to respect ‘em, yeah? Not worthy of a bathroom stall, but a romp in a tent suits ‘em just fine?”

Laughing, her head tosses back, amplifying it. “Fine, you got me there.” Stretching out from her cross legged position, prodding his shin with her toes, she taunts him, continuing the schoolyard antics that started with the choice of game.

However, she’s met by the swift response of John leaning towards her and taking her hand in his. Her dainty one overwhelmed by his grip as he brings her knuckles to his lips, kissing them softly, the stubble of his beard brushing against her soft flesh. “Glad I waited to grow ‘em out then.”

“Wouldn’t have you any other way now.” Hazel eyes sparkle as she gazes at him, reflecting the candlelight in the amber flecks of her emerald depths. 

“Suits me, my girl.”

A cozy moment of silence settles between them, smiling at one another, rapt in one another’s shared attention. Six years together. It wasn’t all bliss, but it certainly suited them, with enough memories to fill several albums. Love, the most earnest either of them had ever felt, and it was only for each other. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” John answered, not hesitating for a moment as he released her hand.

“Find the most embarrassing item of clothing you have in the closet, and tell me why.”

“Cheatin’.” He points his finger at her, suddenly a stickler for the rules. “Tha’s a truth and a dare.”

“Maybe so, but fuck it, if we’re gonna play a teenager’s game we might as well have teenager’s rules.”

Steely eyes narrow, his mouth purses making his mustache twitch in response. “Is this just a chance f’you to make fun of that Christmas sweater mum got me last year?”

Shaking her head, she works to hold in a chuckle that tries it’s hardest to sneak past tight lips. “I didn’t say dorky, I said embarrassing. Something with a little more meaning behind it than a big reindeer head with a light up nose – as adorable as that was on you,” she teases.

Jaw clenching, his nose wrinkles as he grimaces. “Fuckin’ ‘ell.” Rising with a grumble, he uses his mobile flashlight to find his way through the darkened home. In the silence, free from the usual electrical hum of appliances, Rory relaxes against the cupboard and sips her drink. Quiet and her weren’t usually on good terms. Unlike John, her peace was found through noise, chaos. Silence simply let the ghosts that haunted her seep in, her usual means of coping keeping them at bay. But, for once, she seems to enjoy the relative calm. A certain sensory deprivation about the stillness and the dark, the peaceful hypnotic dance of candle flames flickering around her, keeping her from drifting too far into the shadows in her head. 

Arriving back in the kitchen several minutes later, John unfurls an old Motorhead tee shirt, the once black material now worn out and grayed with age. 

“Motorhead?” Her brow lifts. “How is that embarrassing? I already know your music taste, love.” A cheeky smirk pulls at her lips as she crosses her arms over her chest.

He sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “You wanted the story behind it, yeah?” His brow lifts to meet hers, staring at her from under the ridge, frustration apparent on his face. “So, let me tell it.”

“Go on then.” Holding out her hand in an invitation to him to sit and tell the tale. As he sits, her hands return to the space between her lap, cupping the glass that sits nestled between her thighs, body heat warming the last sips of liquor inside.

“Right. So, before we met – the first time, I mean – there was a bird. Had just gone and seen the band live in concert on my leave, been sweating and fighting my arse off in Iraq before that, meant to give this to her before I left again,” he says, gripping the shirt tight in his fist like he’s choking the life from it, the tendons in his arms standing out in stark relief. “Didn’t work out, for several reasons.” By the tone of his voice, she can already tell it was less than amicable. No wonder he had been looking for a quick hook up the same way she had all those years ago. “But I liked the shirt,” he shrugs, “Had it sitting at the back of the closet for years now.” Tossing the shirt away from him, it skids across the floor in a crumpled mess. Rory’s eyes follow it’s trajectory, attuned to the movement like it's a target in the sight of her scope. Her gut churns, annoyed with herself for making him dredge up the past. She glances back at him, chewing on her lip, her brows knitting together as that natural predilection to be a smartass to cover for the tension boils up inside her. But she can’t. Not like this. 

“You’re a better person than I. Would have burned the damn thing, good riddance too. The bitch,” she snarls.

A smirk plays at the corner of John’s mouth at her reaction. Glancing up, he grunts, the little growl from the back of his throat a response to the possessive hint in Rory’s tone as he lifts his glass to take another drink. 

Sparks flare in her eyes, an idea coming to mind, the little fireball John’s madly in love with coming out to play. She could never sit idly by when she had the chance to solve a problem. “Tell you what, you and me, we’re going to make a good memory with it.”

Wiping his mouth with the side of his hand after swigging back his last sip, his voice is hoarse with the burn. “What the ‘ell are you on about?”

“Well, we’ve made very good memories together quite often, haven’t we?” She purrs, implying the obvious as she snatches the shirt from its puddle of material it landed in on the floor. “There is no way I am letting some slag ruin this for you, my darling.” “What d’you suggest then, sweetheart?” he asks with a cocky lift of his brow. “Clothes are wet anyhow.” 

Peeling off her damp shirt like a second skin, Rory then unhooks her bra. Tossing both articles of clothing to the side as she smiles at him, her intense doe-eyed stare seemingly bottomless in the shadowy kitchen. “Bloody good start, love.” His heated gaze roams over her exposed chest, a sight he’s seen a thousand times before, and still that predatory stare residing just below the surface comes creeping back up to the forefront. Skin the complexion of peaches and cream glows, illuminated by dancing flames licking at wicks, shadows and highlights forming over the scars that blemish her skin from combat. Standing, she unbuttons her trousers, letting the wide legged black pants fall to the ground and drape around her feet. John’s hand deftly sneaking in before they pool around her ankles to grab her glass on the floor, finishing off the last dregs of it himself. Slipping her panties down next, stepping out of the pile of wet clothes, she kicks them away and grabs the oversized band tee. The threadbare cotton hugging her lithe form as she stands over him, hands on her hips. 

“Even better, you ask me.” His stare sparkles mischievously up at her from his spot on the floor, unmoved. Square jaw going slack as he swallows thickly, pushing the glasses away from him, his steadily stiffening erection growing more evident by the moment as it strains against the material of his gray sweatpants.

A quiet, breathy giggle leaves her as she lowers to sit in his lap, legs straddled on either side of his thick, muscular thighs. Her forehead resting against his as she gazes into his eyes and whispers, “When you see this shirt in future, I just want you to think of that time you shagged your wife-to-be thoroughly on the kitchen floor during a blackout.”

“Can do, my girl,” John rumbles as his hands lift to rest on the curve of her waist, gripping her tight.  

Cocking her head to the side, angling it to better mark his mouth with her lips, she kisses him ardently. The rough pads of his fingers curl under her chin as he pulls her closer to him, their lips meet in a searing embrace. 

With little coaxing, the waistband of his sweatbands rolls down his hips. His cock hard, ready to be made of use, thick and heavy. Eyes smoldering with desire, he watches her every move as she settles down on his length, her tight sex enveloping him in its velvet grip. Wet heat. Pure bliss. Groaning – a low, guttural sound – he buries his face in the crook of her neck. Hot breath fanning against her, the skin below becoming moist, his beard burning against sensitive flesh. She starts to move, and his hips rise to meet her, thrusting to drive deeper with each roll of her hips and lift of her toned thighs. Breaths are punched from her lungs as he buries himself inside her, muscles visibly flexing with each shift of her body. A dance, one they've perfected over the years, a rhythm that brings them both to that sweet edge.

As if on cue, John begins to lavish her in praise. Give and take. The ebb and flow of the ever shifting landscape of who leads and which one follows, a comfortable equality within their dichotomy that never fails to work for both parties, knowing exactly what works for each of them to reach that inevitable peak.

"Fuck, Rory," he growls, grabbing at her for leverage. "So fuckin’ perfect f’me.” 

Large, rough paws grip at her waist possessively, pulling her close as if he needs the anchor. He bucks his hips, desperate to delve deeper, but her pace remains deliberate, maddening. A sense of control that causes a smile to tug at the corner of his mouth as he watches her ride him, the sight of her body undulating over his, a work of art.

Flesh meets at several points of contact, penetrated folds and warm hands sliding up the curves of her body send sparks through her nerves. Goosebumps rise, left behind along his ascent towards the firm peaks of her breasts, gentle swells hidden by the excess material of his oversized shirt. As deft fingers tease at her pebbled nipples below the shirt, pinching and pulling, Rory increases the pace in his lap, rocking with a meter that matches the pounding of her heart.

"Yes, just like that, my girl. Doin’ so good, sweetheart,” he groans, hoarse and panting. 

Encased in her body, control slipping, needs demanding to be met, the rhythm builds, sounds of lovemaking growing louder. 

"God, I love you," John mumbles as he nuzzles against her once more. The words, heavy with emotion, fall from his lips, a testament to the bond they share. In this moment, there is no war, no death, no fear - only the two of them, entwined in passion. Rory moans, breathless, her desire carrying her forward. Her arms wrap around his broad shoulders, and her fingers card through cropped hair at his nape. “Love you too, my darling,” she whispers against the shell of his ear. Her soft breaths against him fanning the flames between them.

It’s not a sentiment that is often shared aloud, one saved for moments of life or death or intense vulnerability. But, as he looks up at her, there is a depth of adoration in his eyes that cannot be denied, a devotion and desire that is as fierce as it is tender. This is a man who has killed for her and will likely do so again – when he says love, she knows he means it. Their mouths collide, tongues sliding against each other, lips wrapped in a tight seal that lets not a single breath escape. Sounds of pleasure pass between them as they share everything else in their lives. Home. In his arms she finds solace from bullets flying overhead or silent nights marred by guilt-ridden dreams; this sanctuary exists nowhere else on Earth but right here between them.

John carefully lowers her to the floor, his hand cradling the back of her head, protecting her like some fragile prize as she comes to rest against the tile floor, supine. His mouth refusing to leave hers – firm, adamant kisses claim her lips. A low groan coming from him as he kneels on the hard floor between her thighs. His touch trails up her body, tracing curves he’s felt a hundred times before and still never gets enough of. 

She watches him the whole way down to the floor, her eyes locked on his in a heated exchange. He’s the one, she thinks, and her heart confirms it as it races, her chest rising and falling with short, heavy breaths. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life, of anyone – just him. 

His strong hands slide up her arms, lifting them to bring them up over her head, held there as their hands clasp together. His scarred knuckle brushing against the gold, diamond-set band on her ring finger, a stark reminder of the life they have planned together, entangled forever. The needy head of his cock nudges against her entrance, pushing against her slick folds, as it begs for re-entry. Aching for him, the momentary emptiness felt deep within her. Whimpering together at the gentle pressure before her heat welcomes him in once more, inch by inch, he slides in until their hips meet, taking her slow and deep on the floor of their kitchen. Her back arches, lifting to unite with him. Mewling desperately, not caring if the neighbors hear. Every touch of his mouth and tongue along her jawline and down her throat towards her collarbone drives her wild as she sinks further into her choreographed submission, a practiced performance, knowing the steps forwards and backwards and never showing signs of needing another partner. 

“John,” she breathes his name as his hips continue to move against hers, their chests pressed together with only a shirt that had once left a bad taste in his mouth between them, now slick with their combined sweat. 

“Yeah, love?” He looks down at her, his brow furrowed with concentration, jaw flexing below his scruff as his adam’s apple bobs with each heavy breath and thick swallow. 

Her body begins to show the tell-tale signs of her impending climax, her muscles tightening in her legs, toes curling, the flush that grows from her chest to her cheeks warming her from the inside out and melding with the heat of his body pinned to hers on the cold kitchen tiles. Her stomach muscles flutter, her cunt clenching down on the thick of him. “I’m so close,” she whines. “I know, darlin’,” he husks as the tip of his nose nudges at the side of her neck where her pulse thunders. His lips sucking on her salty flesh stained with sweat, rasping against her, “Come for me, Rory.”

She clings to his hands held to hers, nails digging into the tendons and scars on the back of them. Long, toned legs wrapping around his waist as her body begs to be even closer to him, linked as one. Her breath hitches just before she cries out and her vision blurs, her eyes rolling back as each pulse from her core floods her body, weaving its way up her spine. 

Lost for a moment, unable to find her way in the dark, forgetting where she is, she succumbs to the ravages of John’s single-minded focus on her body. Letting their dance sweep her away as he continues to thrust, chasing his own release. Her body heavy, weighted with the pleasure of release, sinks into the sturdy floor below and she enjoys the jolts of sensation that build up inside her once again with his attention.

The slick of them moving together, the rise and fall of their bodies in unison, the tight contractions around him, drives the two ever nearer to the end of their waltz. His grip on her hands tightens in return, holding her in place as each pump of his cock becomes more erratic. More urgent. 

“Fuck, Ror,” he grunts, “Nearly fuckin’ there.”

The wet noises of their coupling echo through the kitchen, meeting with the incessant patter of rain outside the window. A convergence in tempo with his last surging thrust as he can no longer hold back, cumming deep inside her.

He releases his hold on her, their palms both sweaty and red from the grip they had on each other. Pulling her into his arms, their sweat mingles as he cradles her close. "Tha's my girl," John murmurs, his fingers running through her hair as his hand snakes up the back of her neck. “Gonna need you to wear that shirt more often now, I s’pose.”

It’s a simple comfort, the afterglow of passion, basking in it while the storm continues to rage outside, but they were right where they were supposed to be. They belong to each other, plain and simple, and neither would have it any other way.