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freedomfireflies · 5 months

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Better Not Pout*

Summary: The one where Harry isn't leaving until he gets what he really came for.

You.

Word Count: 10.6k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, violence, guns, gunplay, exhibitionism (This one-shot is a bit darker, so please only read if you feel comfortable! 💞)

December 24th, 1945.

The streets of Chicago are cold. Windy. Dark. Everyone is either at home, visiting loved ones, or spending their Christmas Eve at the one place they know they’ll be welcome.

The Bees Knees – the renowned, underground speakeasy – is rather sparkling tonight. The customers continue to bustle in, some here for the booze, some here for the atmosphere and warmth, and some for the entertainment.

You.

You’re one of the establishments best performers, three nights of the week. Employed by none other than Johnny Winters himself to sing for the lost souls of Chicago as they drown their worries in a bottle of whiskey.

You quite like your job, and the people you work with. Milton, who tends the bar, always has a compliment to lend, offering you engaging small talk between sets or any new mixes he might make.

And Johnny isn’t so bad. But perhaps you’re a bit biased, seeing as he is your fiancé. But more than that, he’s one of the most powerful men in all of town. And considerably wealthy, which you suppose doesn’t exactly hurt.

But he’s also kind. Giving. And so very attentive. He spends every second he’s not working with you. Doting on you, showing you off to all of his friends. And having such a handsome man on your arm is certainly not the worst thing.

Tonight, however, Johnny is nowhere to be found. Which you don’t consider to be too terribly odd, given how much work he mentioned he’d be catching up on.

Even still, he hates to miss your performances, and insisted that you keep a part of him with you as you take center stage tonight in the small bar.

That part happens to be in the form of a stunning red, silk dress that was gifted to you for this very occasion. It sits on your frame like it was always meant to be yours, hugging every desirable curve, and showcasing just enough skin to taunt the imagination of those in the audience.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so beautiful, and you walk up the steps tonight with pride. Shoulders back and painted lips poised with your first song.

The few gentlemen scattered across the main floor holler when the spotlight finds you, and you offer your signature smile.

“Evening, gentleman,” you call as the pianist begins behind you. “How are you all doing tonight?”

A few whistles are offered that make you laugh, and just like that…the show begins.

Santa Claus Came in the Spring is always a favorite, and you croon the festive lyrics while the live band follows your lead.

And even though the crowd is rather dull and distracted, you have a blast. You feel comfortable in this role and in the way their eyes drink you in. Even if their attention drifts between you, their drinks, and the cigars.

In fact, you get so swept up in your act that you hardly notice the door open or the tall, lanky stranger that slinks in from the cold.

But when his head lifts, and his eyes find yours, you feel a hitch in your throat.

Unfortunately, he looks away all too quickly, pulling off his trench coat before moving along the shadows toward the far end of the bar.

He goes unnoticed by those around him, yet your attention follows him all the way to the booth that he settles in. And it stays even after he’s leaned back, gotten comfortable, and pulled a cigarette from his rather expensive looking suit pocket.

But even though your focus has drifted, you don’t miss a single beat of the song. After all, you could sing it in your sleep, and this habit serves you well as the intriguing stranger finally shifts into the light and allows you a better look at his face.

He’s…stunning. Absolutely beautiful, with his slicked back curls, sharp jaw, and pointed nose. And he’s lighting the end of a cigarette with what you can only call practiced precision before perching it between his two, crimson-colored lips.

Rings adorn his fingers as he holds the nicotine to his mouth, inhaling a long drag before exhaling the dark smoke from his lungs.

Yet unlike the other patrons in the bar, this man seems to be rather put together. He’s not missing any teeth, his skin isn’t stained with dirt or grease, and his clothes appear to be rather new. It’s quite the upgrade from the usual appearance you’ve grown used to, and you can’t help but feel rather relaxed.

And it’s now that you realize that this striking stranger seems to be watching you much like you’re watching him. Studying your dress, your silhouette, the way you grip the microphone stand. He takes in each detail presented before him with what looks to be wonder, and your cheeks instantly grow warm.

Still, you carry on with the ballad, making your way through the final chorus and the last few notes as the band plays you out with a flourish.

The few men in front of the stage clap, and you smile gratefully as you nod your thanks and call out your appreciation.

Jingle Bells is next, and a few more people join in on the fun this time around. They clink their glasses together or belt out the lyrics a few seconds too late and wildly off-key.

Even still, it’s rather fun as you continue on with your set before finally wrapping it up with a high note that’s accompanied by a rather lively trumpet solo.

And once it’s all over, the room bursts into applause. You wave to the growing audience, taking a quick bow before gesturing toward the band. Offering them their due praise which the crowed quickly obliges.

But you notice the man in the booth keeps his expression indifferent as he continues to watch you exit the stage and make your way to the bar. He doesn’t applaud your performance or even offer a smile of encouragement. He merely takes another hit of his cigarette and throws his arm over the back of his seat. A position you imagine is intended to display dominance more than it is to find comfort.

Truth be told, you find it rather unnerving. He doesn’t seem to be here for the alcohol or the company. Perhaps he’s only here to get out of the cold or perhaps he’s avoiding his home.

Either way, his focus stays only with you, and you feel a sharp chill run down your spine as you turn to the counter and flag down Milton’s attention.

You ask for a drink and request that he tell Johnny that you’ll be waiting in his office until he arrives.

He quickly agrees, preparing the beverage for you before jutting his chin toward the silent stranger.

“Want me to have him escorted out?” he asks, but you only smile as you shake your head.

“No need, I’m sure he’s harmless.” You take the crystal glass and tip it toward him in thanks. “Besides, the attention is rather nice.”

Milton nods his understanding and you leave it at that, taking your drink toward the hallway just off the corner of the room.

You sip leisurely as you stroll to Johnny’s office, picking up the edge of your long gown so it doesn’t drag on the floor. The sounds of the crowd grow quieter and quieter with each step you take, and soon, it’s nothing but silence.

After retrieving the key Johnny insisted you keep on you at all times, you slip open the door, and make your way inside.

It’s quite dark, given the time of night and lack of lighting. He’s only got three lamps in the room, one by the window, one on the shelf, and one on his desk.

Right beside a photo of you.

Getting your photograph taken is quite the privilege, but Johnny insisted he have a vision of you in his office at all times. And you couldn’t help but indulge him, allowing him to dress you up and place you in front of the large contraption one Sunday afternoon in spring.

It’s his favorite thing in the entire world, and he mentions it constantly. Commenting on your beauty or your ethereal outfit. You know he’s only trying to embarrass you, but it’s still rather flattering to hear.

You grin to yourself as you take a seat in the large chair behind the wooden table. Downing the rest of the contents in your glass before setting it down and taking a glance around the large space.

Vaguely, you hear footsteps approaching just outside the door. Echoing through the hall as your grin grows a bit wider.

And as the knob turns, you expect to see the handsome face of your Johnny.

What you don’t expect, however, is the green-eyed devil and his quiet charm.

He’s followed you. You assume this immediately, and your heart leaps into your throat as he steps inside…and shuts the door behind him.

A tense silence settles between you as you slowly sit up and force in a quiet breath. “Hello,” you call quietly.

The sound of your unsteady voice seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curling up as the burning cigarette sits tucked between his lips. “Hello, mama.”

You feel your lashes flutter. “Can…can I help you?”

“I’m looking for your fiancé,” he says, and his voice is low. Deep. And you believe you catch just a hint of an English accent. “This is in fact his office, is it not?”

You hesitate, unsure whether or not to disclose such information to a stranger. “It…yes. Yes, but he’s not here right now. Perhaps you could come back later?”

“Later,” he repeats, almost thoughtfully as his head tilts. Then, he tsks. “See, I’m afraid later just doesn’t work for me. I need to speak with him right now. It’s quite urgent, and I’d like to finish this up and be home to my lover by midnight.”

“Oh…” You shift a bit in your seat and hope he doesn’t notice how nervous you’ve become. “Well, I would love to help, but I don’t believe I know when he’ll be in.”

He considers this for a moment before striding further into the room. Eyes tracking every tremble of your fingers and heave of your chest. “Can I tell you a secret, mama?” he murmurs, placing both hands on the desk and leaning closer.

You nod.

“Your boy Johnny owes me money,” he whispers. “And I’m here to collect.”

And now you understand. Now you know why he’s here. Because even though his tone is friendly, it can’t disguise the threat you know lingers underneath.

“Oh,” you whisper back, and he hums.

“Exactly. And I’m a pretty reasonable guy. Decent. So, I’ll make you a deal.” He begins to smirk behind the cigarette. “If he’s not here within the next five minutes…you and I will find another way.”

The truth is, you don’t really know too much about the financial side of Johnny’s affairs and business. You know he has plenty of money, but you don’t know what he does with it. Or where he keeps it.

And if this alluring stranger seems to think you’ll be his key…you’re afraid he’ll be mistaken.

“Problem, Doll?” He seems smug, and it makes your skin crawl. “M’not scaring you, am I?”

The answer is obvious to you both, but you force yourself straighter and attempt to appear calm. “Not at all, sir. I only want to help.”

"Mm? Good girl,” he mumbles, eyes flicking down to your painted red lips. “Knew you’d behave for me.”

Your heart is hammering inside of your chest. You’re unsure what to do now. Do you ask him to leave? Do you scream for help? Do you call the police?

And where the hell is Johnny?

He should be here by now, especially after promising to wrap up his meeting early in order to catch your last performance before Christmas. He’s always here. One of your biggest fans and greatest protectors.

The only thing you can truly think to do now is attempt to call him. You figure the police won’t get here in time, but at least if this gentleman can be assured that Johnny is on his way, he won’t be as inclined to act rashly.

However, the moment your fingers lift from the desk in order to reach for the phone, the stranger reaches for something, too.

In a matter of seconds, he’s wrapping his hand around the barrel of a gun, pulling it from his back pocket, and aiming it straight at your head. Cocking it loudly as you gasp and withdraw your arm as quickly as possible.

“What are you doin’, hm, mama?” There’s a haughty condescension in his sneer, laced with just the faintest disappointment. “Thought you were gonna be good.”

“I…I was just going to call him,” you stammer. “I know you’re in a hurry.”

The stranger studies you now, that familiar smirk beginning to fade as his attention flicks across your face. Perhaps he suspects a lie or perhaps he merely doesn’t trust you, but truth be told, you know better than to try and pull a fast one on him.

Finally, he plucks his cigarette from between his lips before tossing it to the floor and nodding at you. “Yeah? Go on, then,” he instructs, reposition the barrel at your chest. “Call your little pretty boy. Tell him he’s got a visitor.”

With a racing pulse, you once again slowly reach for the telephone, eyeing the gun carefully as you scoot closer.

You’re careful not to make any sudden moments. Hesitant to even look at him for fear of upsetting him, but your timid demeanor only entertains him further.

He simply chuckles as he slowly makes his way over to your side of the desk. Snatching up the phone just before you can reach for it and handing it to you almost cockily.

Curious, you glance up. That soft green in his eye is almost alluring, even despite the circumstance. Still, he reeks of nicotine and expensive cologne, and you lean back in an attempt to put as much space between you as you can.

He smiles. “I’m gonna watch you dial,” he tells you calmly. “Make sure you keep your word. Okay, Doll?”

Posed like a question, although you both know you don’t exactly have a choice. And you'd likely point this out if you were just a touch braver, but nevertheless, you nod. Agreeing to his terms as you take the phone and begin to dial.

As the seconds go by, you feel him watching you closely while the line rings. Leaving you to desperately await the sound of your sweet Johnny’s voice. A sound you’ve never needed more than in this moment.

Yet his voice never comes, and your heart sinks to the cold floor blow as you return the phone to the desk.

“He…he must already be on his way,” you murmur, and the man hums.

“You think so?”

You nod weakly.

He takes a seat on the edge of the desk, just inches from your arm before leaning closer. “How much are you willing to bet, hm?” His brow raises. “How sure are you that your precious fiancé will actually save you tonight?”

You feel trapped by him now. The closer he moves, the faster your heart pounds. You have nowhere to run, no personal space to disappear into.

But you only have to hold on for just a little longer. Johnny will come for you. He always does.

“Incredibly sure,” you respond, ignoring the slight waver in your voice. “He said he would be, so he will.”

The man considers this before clicking his tongue. “All right. Then how about I make you another deal, yeah? For every minute he’s late, and for every minute he leaves you here unattended…I’ll put an extra bullet through his head.”

A sharp chill runs down your spine, skin growing hot and prickly, but you force your expression to remain unfazed. “And why would you do that if you need him so badly?”

The gentleman laughs now. A sound that would almost be charming if he weren’t so vile. “Because I don’t need your precious Johnny,” he answers calmly. “I just need what’s in his safe.”

And despite the danger you’re in and despite your better judgment, your features scrunch into a grimace as you scoff, “Oh, how pathetic.”

Your reaction loosens his smile.

“Truly, how incredibly pathetic to come all the way down here at this time of night – and on Christmas Eve – just to break into his safe,” you huff. “Honestly. He won’t give you a damn thing. And you have absolutely no business to come storming in here and—”

You don’t get the chance to finish the rest of your furious scolding before he’s suddenly standing to his feet and wrapping his fingers around your arm.

Instantly, you’re yanked from your chair and shoved against the bookcase just behind you. Hard enough to knock the wind from your lungs as he traps you there, leaning in so close, his nose nearly brushes your own.

“I’d be careful how you fucking speak to me, mama,” he seethes quietly, yet even still, there’s just an air of pleasure. “Because you might not get the chance to do it again.”

He’s desperate to scare you. Desperate to see you cry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you suck in a sharp breath, and do the one thing you can think to do:

You spit.

The collection of saliva just misses his eye, landing on his cheek with a rather wet splat until the amusement fades and fury takes its place.

His fingers leave your arm and find your throat, curling around the delicate skin and forcing your head up as he begins to chuckle darkly.

“So, that’s how you wanna play, hm, Doll?” Another tsk. “You wanna be bad? Wanna test my fucking patience?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, yet for some reason, you don’t feel as frightened as you did before. Because there’s this look in his eye – this hunger. And even though his grip is tight…you feel oddly safe.

“Better find a way to keep this pretty little mouth shut,” he says next, head cocking to the left almost curiously. “Or I’ll have to shut it for you.”

His attention returns to your mouth, fingers slowly slipping up toward your chin until he can brush is thumb over the painted fibers of your lips.

Just enough to taunt you yet startle you all in the same second.

“Maybe,” you finally breathe before jerking your head away from his cruel touch. “If you knew how.”

The cocky grin widens as his hand immediately returns to your neck. “Still disobeying me, hm?” he nearly purrs. “Guess I could always just squeeze this sweet, little throat to keep you quiet, yeah? Feel your pretty pulse beneath my fingertips. Feel the life drain from your body…watch the light go out in your eyes.”

You take in a strained inhale, and he makes a sound that almost sounds like a groan.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, moving in just a bit closer until his lips are ghosting across yours. “Or maybe…I could put my gun in your mouth. See how chatty you are then, yeah, mama?”

Your chest heaves anxiously, but you find just enough confidence to whisper, “But without your gun, how will everyone know what a tiny cock you have?”

And you’re so proud of yourself. So endlessly pleased with the way you’ve managed to make his smug expression waver, even if he keeps his smirk in place.

“Oh, you think that’s funny,” he snorts as you attempt to bite back a laugh. “Well, you wanna know what I think is funny? I think it’s funny that you said Johnny would be here…and he’s not.”

“He will be,” you retort, a bit firmer. “He will.”

“See…you keep saying that,” he muses, placing one hand on the bookshelf beside your head. Truly trapping you beneath him. “And yet…your noble fiancé still isn’t here to save you.”

You tilt your head back in an attempt to appear stronger, but it doesn’t seem to fool him.

“Are you afraid?” he whispers, chest brushing against yours. “Are you afraid your Johnny won’t be able to keep you safe from the bad man?”

It’s almost hostile, the way he goads you. And yet you can hear just the slightest concern beneath his question.

“Or maybe you’re afraid he can’t pay up,” he continues. “Maybe you’re afraid he’ll have to find another way.”

Suddenly, the grip on your throat constricts. Recapturing your attention.

“Are you gonna be my other way, mama?” he exhales. “You gonna be my consolation prize?”

You feel dizzy. The room is spinning. And you aren’t sure if that’s because of the hold on your neck or the way he’s speaking to you.

However, before you can decide if you’re actually intrigued by his intimidation tactics…the sound of footsteps echo outside through the hall.

Johnny.

It has to be him. You almost need it to be him, and your shoulders unwind as the man glances toward the closed door curiously before finally leaning back.

Then, he grabs onto your arm for a second time, and flings you back toward the chair. Shoving you down and keeping you still.

“You’re gonna sit here and you’re gonna keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hisses softly right as the door swings open. “And then maybe…I just might reward you.”

But you don’t even mind this malicious threat because then you see him. Your fiancé, smiling brightly as his eyes find you before they flick to the man to your right.

For a moment, he seems surprised, seemingly assessing your position and the situation before his grin widens.

“Ah, Mr. Styles,” he calls as he strides into the room, quickly removing his hat and coat. “What a pleasant surprise. Did we have a meeting tonight?”

He seems relaxed. Almost too relaxed, as though he doesn’t view this man as a threat, and you aren’t sure whether to feel relieved or wildly confused. You hadn’t exactly expected him to grab the mysterious guest by the collar and throw him out the window, but you also didn’t expect him to welcome him with open arms.

A strange man is alone with his future wife, in his office, in the middle of the night, and that doesn’t seem to concern him even a little?

Perhaps Johnny is far too friendly for his own good.

The gentleman, in turn, straightens up while subtly slipping the gun behind his back. Tucking it into his belt just out of view before Johnny can catch it. “Not quite,” he says coolly. “I’m here to discuss a bit of unfinished business.”

Your heart sinks, yet Johnny merely nods. “Ah, I see. Well, is there any way this can wait until after Christmas? It’s been a long night, and I’d like to be getting the lovely lady home.”

Now, both of their stares turn to you, and eagerly, you begin to rise from the chair. Grateful for the opportunity to leave this unsettling stranger behind.

Yet before you can even find your footing, the man’s hand is coming down in a firm smack on your shoulder to force you back down.

“I’m afraid the lovely lady isn’t going anywhere,” he replies, and you catch Johnny’s expression fall. “And neither are you. Have a seat.”

Johnny begins to frown. “Look, Harry, whatever business we might have, I’m sure it can—”

“I said, have…a seat,” the man – Harry – repeats a bit brasher. “Yeah? Or things will get a lot worse for your darling fiancé.”

Johnny hesitates, eyes flicking to yours. But he must notice the panicked look you wear because he finally sighs and does as instructed. Taking a seat in the chair just in front of the desk before glancing toward Harry.

Harry nods, almost proudly. “There you go. S’not so hard, is it?”

Johnny’s figure slumps but his lips purse together. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I just want to talk,” Harry says, his smirk returning. “And lucky for you, your schedule just cleared up.”

“Harry—” Johnny begins, leaning closer as though getting ready to stand.

But instantly, Harry is reaching back behind him for the gun, pulling it free, and aiming the barrel straight at his head.

Johnny quickly leans back, eyeing the weapon hesitantly while you gasp and glance up at the stranger pleadingly.

Harry only looks at Johnny. “See, I’m running out of fucking patience. Eight goddamn months I’ve had to listen to you go on and on about this special fucking shipment you got. And now…it’s time to collect.”

Your sweet fiancé understands now. Realizes why this man is here and how real the threat is, and glances back at you almost apologetically.

You merely mouth, “It’s okay.”

Johnny’s eyes flick back to the gun. “I’d be careful waving that thing around. Somebody might get hurt.”

The man merely hums. “Oh, I’m fucking counting on it.”

Now, the office grows quiet. A tense, charged sort of energy that filters between the three of you as Harry begins to walk around the desk.

“So,” he continues, grabbing onto the other free chair in order to spin it around and sit in a straddle, “where’s the safe, Johnny?”

Johnny’s brow raises, but his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Down at the club, you said you just got a brand new, fancy safe to hold everything from your latest shipment. Practically bragged about it to the whole goddamn bar, yeah? So…where is it?”

With piqued interest, you look between the two men curiously as you await Johnny’s answer. You’ve never really been sure where he gets all his money. You assumed most of it came from the bar and alcohol sales, so you’re rather stumped by what sort of shipment they might be referring to.

However, Johnny isn’t so quick to divulge all his secrets. “And what is it you’re expecting to get out of my safe, Mr. Styles?”

There’s another heavy pause as Harry rests his arms over the back of the seat and whispers, “Everything.”

Instantly, Johnny scoffs. “You think you can storm into my office on Christmas Eve and threaten my fiancé? Threaten me? That you’re entitled to anything you damn well please?” A bitter scoff as he leans back. “You’ll be arrested before morning, and you’ll never see a red fucking cent.”

His retort dangles between them for only a moment as a breath catches in your throat. Pulse racing as you watch the stranger’s reaction closely.

Yet the mystery man doesn’t so much as flinch as he suddenly repositions the gun into the air, aims it just to the left of Johnny’s head, and fires.

The sound is deafening, much like your sharp, shrill shriek as the bullet flies through the air – just missing Johnny’s ear – and lodges into the wall behind him.

Johnny immediately flinches, eyes screwing shut and muscles recoiling before he seems to realize that he remains unharmed.

And once he does, he takes a deep breath, and begins to smirk. “You missed.”

“Did I?” Harry runs his tongue over his bottom lip before re-cocking the gun. “No, see…I never fucking miss. That was your first warning.”

Johnny simply snorts. “Yeah? Well, eat my shit.”

Things move quickly from there.

Harry is instantly on his feet, tossing the chair aside rather angrily before he’s turning to you once more. And you don’t even have a moment to think before you’re being yanked from the seat for a second time and immediately tugged to his chest as he presses the barrel of the gun into the side of your temple.

“Where’s the fucking safe, Johnny?” he says again, and you notice Johnny’s face pale.

“Styles,” Johnny murmurs, “you don’t have to do this—”

“The safe,” he seethes. “Where is it? Or do you need a little incentive, huh? Need to see her pretty little brains all over your goddamn floor? Is that what it’s gonna take?”

Poor Johnny doesn’t know what to do. He looks from the gun, to your face, to the arm keeping you hostage.

And you almost feel bad for him, yet you aren’t even afforded the chance for empathy before Harry furiously growls and shoves you in Johnny’s direction.

You stumble across the wooden floor until Johnny can quickly take you into his embrace, keeping you safe from the bad man as you begin to sniffle.

“My love,” he whispers, tightening his hold on your trembling frame while turning you away as if to protect you. “It’s gonna be all right, I promise.”

With a quick nod and a hiccup, you look up and slip your hands around his neck for comfort. “I know.”

He smiles.

It’s Harry’s disgusted sneer that brings you attention back. “Fucking pathetic. Really, mama? This is who you choose to save you?”

Your features fall ever-so-slightly while Johnny begins to pull you behind him, shielding you from the aggravated aggressor. “If you need money so badly, there are plenty of other ways.”

“It’s not just about money,” Harry retorts calmly. “It’s about your money. Yeah? So where’s the fucking safe.”

“None of your goddamn business—”

The reply no sooner leaves his mouth before there’s another gunshot fired into the air.

One of the paintings on the wall falls with a crack and you jump almost two feet into the air, nails scratching down Johnny’s nice shirt.

“Johnny,” you whisper faintly, refusing to let this go on any longer. “Johnny, tell him. Tell him, please. I don’t care about the money; I don’t care about any of it. I just want you. I love you, and I can’t lose you.”

The office falls silent as you request hangs in the air, and you feel Johnny take in a deep breath.

“Yeah, Johnny,” Harry adds in a condescending murmur. “She loves you. Don’t make her watch you die. It’d be such a shameful waste of her tears.”

Johnny looks to you, and your expression softens. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Finally, he sighs. “Under the desk.”

Harry’s head whips toward the large table curiously before he frowns. “Where?” he murmurs before repositioning the gun at Johnny’s chest. “I promise you don’t wanna lie to me.”

However, Johnny’s indifferent expression remains. “Under the desk,” he repeats while thrusting his chin toward the massive piece of furniture.

And now Harry seems to understand, although it does little to relax him as he suddenly reaches for you again and yanks you from your lovers’ arms.

“Show me,” he hisses, keeping you hostage again while ushering Johnny forward with the barrel of the weapon. “And don’t be dense.”

And Johnny can do nothing but obey, seemingly defeated while sending you one last remorseful look. Finally moving to lift the desk and pull it back.

The sound of wood scraping against wood is heavy, and it takes him quite a while to relocate the table beneath the window by himself.

But once it’s out of the way, you notice a particular part of the flooring juts out. The rotten board almost askew.

You and Harry lean closer, both magnetized by intrigue as he bends down in order to wrench the board up, revealing the hollow hiding place underneath.

And there you find it. The large, black box with a gold dial in the middle.

He glances up toward Harry, perhaps looking for permission – which Harry quickly gives him – before reaching down to put in the correct combination.

And after a couple seconds of clicking and turning…the door swings open.

Truth be told, you were hoping to find a secret gun that might help you out of this situation, but it seems there are no weapons to be found as Harry shoves you back in order to get a better look.

He no longer seems concerned about Johnny or the possibility that he might attempt to attack because Johnny seems to have given up.

All your dejected fiancé does is straighten up and motion you back to him, watching Harry bend over and reach inside the safe almost uninterestedly.

Your heart aches for him, yet you can’t help feeling relieved. You’re a few steps closer to this wretched night being over, and perhaps once Harry has what he came for, you’ll be able to leave.

“Are you all right?” Johnny whispers to you now as Harry begins to unload the contents in the floor.

You nod quickly, clinging to his strong frame as though you’re scared you might be taken again. “Yes, I’m all right. Are you?”

“I will be once I know you’re safe,” he says, and your heart sinks.

Once everything inside the safe has been shoved into a bag, Harry turns to the two of you. “That was a good start, Winters. Now where’s the rest of it?”

Johnny frowns. “I don’t know what you mean. Everything I have is in there.”

But Harry only tsks as he sets the items down and begins to stride closer, making you curl even further into Johnny’s embrace. “Come on, now,” he mumbles almost tauntingly. “You know what I really want. And you know that you’re gonna fucking tell me. Isn’t that right, mama?”

He looks to you for only a moment as you swallow.

Johnny begins to seethe. “No. No, you can have everything else, but you won’t touch that.”

“Johnny,” you try, unnerved by the sudden look of warning in Harry’s eye. “Johnny, please…just give it to him. Whatever it is, I don’t care, just…just make him leave.”

“Smart girl,” Harry adds. “Come on, Johnny boy, your darling fiancé is scared. Don’t you wanna save her?”

Your lover simply grows stiff, eyes narrowing at the faux sincerity in the stranger’s voice.

“Johnny,” you mumble again. “Johnny, please, he’s right. I’m scared and I don’t care about what you have or what you don’t have. I just want you. And I want him to go away.”

Still, Johnny wrestles with his decision. With the choice he’s being forced to make, and as the seconds go by, Harry’s patience reaches its limit.

He grabs for you – again. Forcing the weapon under your jaw this time around as Johnny’s muscles tense and his fingers curl into his fist.

“God, look at him,” Harry whispers to you now, lips ghosting up the shell of your ear while forcing your eyes on your fiancé. “Fucking look at your pathetic excuse for a man.”

You attempt to remain indifferent – appear unafraid – but he sees right through you.

“D’you really think he cares about you, Doll?” he murmurs. “Do you really think he’ll choose your life over his own?”

“Let her go,” Johnny barks, yet it only forces the barrel even further into your skin.

Your chin is tilted up, a sharp inhale getting caught in your throat until Harry begins to chuckle.

“How about this,” he says. “I’ll let you choose, mama. I’ll let you decide if he gets to watch me kill you…or if he gets to watch me take you. All for myself.”

“Fucking piece of shit—” Johnny hisses, but Harry simply tsks.

“So, what do you say? What’ll it be? Either way, I’ll have him on his goddamn knees by the end of the night. And then we all win, yeah?”

“Enough,” Johnny yells, and a strangled silence splits the air. “Fine. Fine, I’ll tell you. Just let her go.”

Harry’s arm begins to lower but not very far. “Once it’s in my hand, she’s all yours.”

And you want to resent these men for treating you like you’re some sort of object to be traded, yet you’d happily be given back to your lover if it meant you could leave this nightmare behind.

No matter the cost.

Johnny rolls his shoulders back and flicks his unrelenting stare back to his desk. “There. The picture.”

You feel your eyebrows raise while Harry slowly begins to loosen his hold on you.

“Get it,” he instructs, and with an aggravated sigh, Johnny obliges.

He retrieves the golden frame from the table before pulling open the back and removing the picture inside.

The picture of you.

It almost breaks your heart, the look on his face. Like he’s absolutely gutted to be defiling this memory of you both, and you ache to comfort him.

Once the photo has been plucked from the glass, you catch the faintest sparkle in the soft light of the moon, and hear yourself gasp.

There, sitting snug inside the small frame, is the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen.

It’s…stunning. The most gorgeous jewel you’ve ever been privileged to lay eyes on, surrounded by what you can only assume to be hundreds of tinier diamonds and rubies arranged in a delicate but intricate pattern.

Altogether creating the most breathtaking necklace you’ve ever seen.

It has to be worth hundreds of dollars – thousands, in fact – and Harry reaches over to take it from the frame with the biggest Cheshire-like grin you’ve ever seen.

This is what he came for.

“You have it, all right? You have it, now go,” Johnny calls, already attempting to reach for you. “You got what you want.”

With an agreeable hum, Harry studies the necklace a moment longer before finally looking to you. “You’re right. We did, didn’t we?”

You both smile.

Instantly, you raise the gun that Harry had discreetly and secretly slipped into your hand only moments ago and aim it at Johnny’s chest.

Three.

Johnny’s expression shifts, eyes widening as he begins to piece together what’s really going on. Why Harry looks so proud and why you look so relieved.

Two.

His lips part. Ready to speak to you, whisper your name, ask for an explanation. And a part of you can’t help but wonder if you’ll feel any remorse for the deception you’ve put him through these past few months.

But as you stare at him now…you feel nothing but liberation.

One.

The third and final gunshot echoes through the air. Louder and far more permanent. Resolute.

Johnny stumbles back, unable to catch himself before he goes tumbling to the ground. A dark red stain expanding like watercolor across his chest, ruining the clean white shirt underneath.

You’d bought him that shirt.

And as the look of life slowly leaves his eye, you feel your muscles unwind, and your shoulders droop.

It’s over.

Harry’s got his arms around you before you can even release the deep breath you’ve been holding onto for so long.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he nearly groans, pressing his lips to yours for the first time in months as you sling your arms around his neck. “Fucking hell, I missed you, mama.”

If Harry had had it his way, Johnny would have been dead months ago. He never liked this plan – not because he thought you couldn’t handle it, but because the idea of going without you for so long nearly killed him.

But it was the only way to gain Johnny’s trust. And to find his true weakness. He never would have given you the location of the safe or the necklace if you’d simply held him at gunpoint from the get-go.

No, he needed a reason to cave, a reason to put his possessions on the line in order to save something else he truly cared about.

And that’s where you came in.

Sure, it was hard to be without Harry, but you knew it had to be done. Getting these items would set you up for years. You’d never have to work in sleazy bars again. You could simply be with him…forever.

And perhaps pretending to be a stranger to him and appear frightened of his intentions wasn’t quite necessary, but you happen to like the roleplaying aspect.

The way he threatened your life as though he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect it. The way he taunted you, teased you, scared you…when he knew deep down how much you fucking loved it.

You can still feel his fingers around your neck. The pressure of his hand against your throat, holding you still, keeping you close. You hadn’t felt it in months and a part of you wanted to keep the game going for just a bit longer if it meant you could have him.

You weren’t able to run into his arms and kiss him the way you can now and it’s…perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Did he hurt you?” he whispers, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw. “Did he fucking touch you—”

“No,” you’re quick to assure him. “No, never. He wanted to, but I never let him.”

“Good.” He takes hold of your hip and gives it a firm squeeze. “Good girl, knew you’d be on your best behavior, yeah?”

You grin. “Of course. Only ever thought about you.”

“Is that right, doll?”

“Mhm.” You tuck your lip between your teeth and nuzzle your nose to his. “How could it ever be him?”

His lashes flutter, and you can see the edges of his frayed sanity coming loose. He’s had to pretend for far too long, and you don’t imagine he can do it much longer.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, nearly clawing at your dress. “Then, maybe I’ll—”

“What…did you do?”

The sound of Milton’s confusion pulls you apart instantly. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide, expression horrified. Looking from his boss, to you, to Harry, and back.

He sees the necklace on the desk, sees the gun in your hand, sees the bag of gold and cash lying at Harry’s feet.

He understands, and your heart almost sinks. Milton was one of the good ones.

Quickly, Harry takes the weapon from you and points it in Milton’s direction.

Milton only leans back with a soft inhale while you turn to your lover and whisper, “No. No, not him.”

Harry’s pursed lips and furrowed brows never waver. “What?”

“Not him,” you repeat, as firmly as you can.

And he hesitates for only a moment before dropping the weapon and nodding his chin at you. “Grab the bag and go out the window.”

You nod your understanding before stealing one last glance at the bartender by the door.

He’s heartbroken and terrified…but his features grow softer as he finally mumbles, “…five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes.”

And you can’t help but smile.

You rush to grab what you came for and hurry to the window, with Harry right behind you. You don’t have a lot of time. Once Milton makes the call to the police, you’ll need to be far enough away that they can’t find you.

You know they’ll be looking. Know they won’t stop until they find you both – after all, they’ve been searching for you for years.

But you don’t mind a life that’s on the run, as long as it’s with him.

And the pleased smile he offers you now only confirms this.

You quickly lift the hem of your dress and begin over the ledge, with Harry right beside you to help. He takes your hand for support, keeping you steady until you can safely drop to the ground outside before he’s following suit.

The moment his feet hit the ground, you both run. The Chicago air is cold – frigid. You don’t have enough clothes to truly cover you and your feet are sore from having to wear these outrageous shoes all night.

But you somehow feel…alive. Invigorated and so very free. You have everything you’ve ever wanted.

You have him.

You both slip along the shadows as you make your way through town, leaving the speakeasy and Johnny Winters behind. After a minute or two, you hear the sirens in the distance, and the stakes are raised. They grow louder and louder the closer they get, and it’s then that Harry recaptures your hand and tugs you into a dark alleyway for cover.

This is where you stay until the cars have zipped down the street and proceeded without you. They don’t even think to look for you here and you’re rather impressed with your lover’s quick thinking.

Harry, however, isn’t as quick to revel in the success. Continuingly peeking around the corner in order to watch for anything unusual. Ignoring your amused laughter and giddy grin of accomplishment.

He’s on edge. Alert. Ready to run again if need be, and while you rather admire his practiced precision, you hope to put it to better use.

You drop the bag near the wall and make your way for him, palms quickly finding his cheeks in order to pull his attention to you.

He grunts. “What?”

But you don’t answer with words. You answer with a kiss. A kiss that makes your stomach flip and your mind grow fuzzy.

And this seems to be explanation enough as he groans with approval and wraps his arms around your middle to keep you against his chest. Nipping and licking at you as though his life depends on it.

Perhaps it does.

He shoves you back against the brick after only a few seconds, finding the leverage he needs in order to deepen the kiss and truly claim you. In a way he’d been desperate to the moment he saw you sitting in that office in such a beautiful dress.

“Trying to distract me, hm?” he murmurs, and you can’t help but smile. “Yeah? Or did you just need me that badly?”

He spins you around, pressing your cheek to the cold blocks of clay before dancing his fingers down your spine. Indulging in you.

It makes your insides twist.

You feel the hem of your dress gather in his fist as he finally gets a proper look at what he’s been missing for months. And the sound he makes goes straight to your cunt.

“You filthy fucking thing,” he whispers, rather delightedly while moving in to trail his mouth along your neck. “Look at you. Look at how perfect you are.”

His fingers find your pussy, stroking over your covered slit once or twice before plucking the covering from your hips and dragging it down your thighs.

“Just dripping for me, yeah? All fucking night.” He drags his palm up the inside of your leg. “Power makes you weak, doesn’t it, mama?”

You nod desperately, unable to answer with words.

But he understands, smirking to himself rather deviously before his hands are tangling in your hair in order to yank your head back. Just to hear you choke on a whine. “I’ve waited months for this. Yeah? M’gonna take my time with you…gonna make it worth it.”

And you don’t doubt that you will.

You nod again as the sound of his leather belt coming undone echoes between your ears. You’re trembling with anticipation, body aching for the feel of his cock. It’s been far too long, and you’ve nearly withered away without him.

You imagine he feels about the same, already fisting himself in one hand and readjusting your dress in the other. You hear him mumble something under his breath – you’re not quite sure what. But you suppose it doesn’t matter. He can say whatever he likes as long as he gives you what you need.

Normally, he’d take his time. He loves to make a show out of ruining you, but there’s no chance for that tonight. No patience. So, he kicks your feet apart, grabs your hip, and eases himself in all before you can take a breath.

And it’s perfect. Exactly the way you remember. The stretch, the scratch, the desperation. Nobody feels the way he does, and you both know it.

He’s still for a moment, merely pushing himself in and watching your pussy swallow him whole. As if so overcome by the sensation that he can’t do much else. As if losing control over his own body.

So, you push against his chest to remind him you’re here while your fingers reach back for his hair in order to tug it softly.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “All fucking night,” he whispers the moment he’s buried to the hilt. “Knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

You grin as well. You’re rather happy he noticed.

“Spitting in my fucking face,” he continues. “Challenging me. Acting like a fucking brat. S’all cause you were so fucking needy for me, wasn’t it, mama?”

“Maybe,” you can’t help but retort. “Maybe I knew you’d like it.”

He laughs now. A low, deep, sadistic sound from the back of his throat. Using his hold on your scalp to force your head into his shoulder. “Is that right, hm?”

You only nod.”

“Yeah? Then say it,” he hisses. “Tell me you missed me. Tell me you missed my cock. That nobody fucks you like I do—”

He accompanies this request with his first, sharp thrust. Pulling back only to drive himself in so hard, the air is nearly knocked from your lungs.

“Because they can’t, can they?” he coos, yet it’s angry. Fingers moving from your hair to your neck. Squeezing until you gasp. “Nobody knows how to treat this little pussy like I do. Do they?”

You fall mute. Going limp in his hold as the pleasure begins to build.

“You love it when I fuck you like this.” His nose presses to your cheek as he breathes, your delicate throat a plaything in his touch. “Love it when I kill for you. Love it when I make you mine—”

You gasp at the ecstasy, hardly able to hear him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You love me,” he murmurs, and you just about disappear into his embrace.

“I do,” you gasp, almost too loudly. “I do, Harry, please—"

“Quiet,” he hisses, glancing now toward the street in order to make sure the police haven’t found their way to you. “You know better than that. You’ll take me and you’ll do it quietly. Understood?”

Your only response is to whimper pitifully while your nails scratch down the brick walls of the alley.

In turn, he grasps onto your jaw, forcing your head to the side until your eyes can meet. “I said, is that fucking understood?”

“I thought you said to be quiet,” you can’t help but retort, and he hums.

“Oh, is that how you wanna play it?” He releases your throat only to take hold of your hips once more and spin you around between thrusts. Quickly returning to his place between your thighs before lifting one of your legs and hiking it around his waist.

“What…” you begin, chest heaving as the tip of his cock drags down your clit. “What are you—”

“Had to see you,” is his gritted response. “Had to see this pretty, bratty face as I ruined you.”

You imagine you’d smile if you weren’t so close to coming apart, but he understands. Pressing his forehead to yours before reaching up toward the top of your dress and ripping the fabric down to reveal your chest.

You can tell he’s been wanting to do this all night. Know he’s been ogling your tits from behind the expensive fabric since the moment he walked in, and truth be told, that’s the real reason you wore it.

Not because Johnny loves you in red.

But because Harry deserved to look at something pretty.

The cold air meets your skin with an unforgiving fervor, and you squirm against the brick as Harry’s eyes fall to the tattered fabric lying so pathetically on your chest.

Instantly, his head dips, mouth leaving open and sloppy kisses to the beautiful pair before him. Tongue stroking the hardened nipples rather respectfully, all things considered.

In turn, you run a hand through his dark curls as he does this to you. As you watch him take whatever he wants. Feeling the way his hair moves like butter between your fingers. The way he hums against you. The way his lashes flutter.

You’ve missed this.

Then, your grip tightens, and you yank his head up until his lips can meet yours. And you take. Take the taste of him, the taste of you, and the taste of victory.

His palm comes up to rest against the wall beside your head. Steadying himself as he works to find that perfect rhythm again. Over and over and over.

And all you can do is move your anxious kisses to his throat as he fucks into you. Whispering, “Nobody, baby. Nobody feels like you do. Nobody.”

Your fingers trail down his strong back, feeling each muscle that dips and flexes as he moves. The way he grunts when you scratch your nails down his spine. The way he consumes you and succumbs to you all at once.

Johnny was beautiful, but Harry is a beast. You’ve never seen a man like this before – never felt a man like this before. Every curve of his body is ethereal. Every detail, every touch.

Your touch continues to move lower and lower down his strong frame until you find something at the base of his spine.

And it makes you grin.

You slip it from his belt with ease, feeling the way it sits firmly in your hand as though it were made for it.

Harry doesn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he just doesn’t care with the way he’s so deep into you. Emotionally, physically.

But he’s quickly pulled from his pleasured trance the moment he feels the familiar, cool touch of his gun sweeping across his jaw.

He stills. Straightening up ever-so-slightly, eyes finding yours.

But you’re too busy gazing at the barrel that dances across that beautiful face.

After all, he got to have his fun this evening.

Now it’s your turn.

You bring it to a stop just under his chin, tilting his head up exactly the way he’d done to you earlier as he releases a deep breath.

“Mama…” he warns, but you only hum.

This isn’t the first time this deadly weapon has made this an unofficial threesome, but it is certainly the first time you’ve been the one to wield it.

You hate guns. You do. But you love Harry’s. The way he holds it. The way he handles it. The way he uses great care and great power.

Because there’s something about seeing him with it. Seeing the way he controls it, controls the room. The way he holds someone’s life in the palm of his hand…

Perhaps you should be concerned by how enamored you are by it. By him.

But not tonight. Tonight, you simply enjoy.

And from the look in his eye, he seems to be enjoying it, too.

After all, you know he loved watching you use it on Johnny. Know he almost had you right then and there, on Johnny’s desk, before the mission was even through.

He’s endlessly pleased with you, and you can’t help but use this to your advantage.

So, with the weapon still taut to his clenched jaw, you lean forward and ghost your lips over his. “What’s the matter, Daddy? Does power make you weak?”

The twitch of his cock is answer enough.

You go in for the kill. With your fingers dancing over the trigger button, you lean back and dip down before dragging your tongue up the length of the barrel.

His eyes nearly roll back, and the sound that leaves his chest is euphoric. You think you might just kill him.

Because you’re slow. Meticulous. Licking every inch of the weapon until you finally reach the tip still tucked just beneath his chin.

Then…you kiss him.

And he’s so overwhelmed that he growls into your mouth, no longer threatened by the gun at his throat. Instead grabbing onto the back of your neck in order to squeeze it tight and keep you close. Devour you the way he’s been so frantic to.

You don’t even realize that you’ve begun to lower the gun until you feel it snatched from your grasp.

And pressed tightly to your clit.

The cold surface of the weapon against the warmest part of your body has you arching your back with a whimper. He has the upper hand once more, and he’s certainly not about to waste it. Mouth curling up into a satisfied, smug grin at the way your expression has gone hazy.

You’ve never looked at another man the way you look at him and he knows it.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks softly, adding just enough pressure to make you whine. “All fucking night? The moment you saw me? Saw my gun? Wanted me to fuck you with it?”

Your nails meet your chest, scratching down the frigid skin in a desperate attempt to find something to ground you.

His only response is to drag the tip of the weapon down just a bit further. Until he can watch it glisten in you.

“Fucking looking at you,” he muses beneath a strained exhale, enamored by the way you subconsciously begin to grind on it. “So desperate to feel it. To be fucked by it. And what if I do, hm? What if I fuck you with my gun right here in this alleyway?”

You only whisper his name and an airy, “Please…”

“I thought about it,” he continues quietly, nose brushing yours as he slips the soaked barrel back up your cunt. “Thought about ripping off this pathetic little dress and fucking you right in front of your precious fiancé.”

You wish he had.

“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you, mama?” His fingers drum against the handle. “Yeah? I know you would. Would have loved to watch him watch me.”

And he’s not wrong. He hardly ever is when it comes to your darkest fantasies, and it’s just one of the many reasons why you love him.

“But I had to wait,” he tells you now, finally pulling the gun away from your dripping clit until you nearly crumple to the cold concrete below. “Because after all this time…I’m the only thing that gets to fill you tonight, yeah?”

You simply nod again as he brings the gun back to your mouth with a proud grin.

And you know exactly what he wants, swiping your tongue all along the barrel and tasting every drop, every indication of your need for him. Swallowing it all as he watches proudly.

The moment you’re finished, he takes the gun and returns it to his pocket, tucking it away safely. Because he’s right again, and you need to feel him far more than you’ve ever needed anything else.

So, you grasp onto his face and bring his lips to yours, allowing him to pick up right where he left off.

Because as much as you love the power…you love being weak for him more.

At least in moments like this.

He fills you and fucks you until you’re dizzy. Until you can taste the pleasure and the unraveling.

You make a show of it. A way to apologize for all the time lost. Trailing the tips of your fingers along your own chest and down your sternum until you notice you have his attention.

He watches you take your tit into your palm before you’re tweaking the hardened nipple with a soft whine. Allowing your head to drop back into the wall while you do it again and again.

And he’s an angry sort of infatuated. Groaning almost pitifully before kissing you again and easily swatting your hand away in order to do it himself.

But that’s still not enough. So, you play your ace, and move your touch down to your clit in order to pinch it exactly the way he likes.

And it’s beautiful. The most exhilarating feeling, and this is what sends him over. The feel of your pussy clamping down on his cock, the sight of your fingers against your clit, the sound of your pathetic whimpers and pants as you cry out his name.

He fills you before he can stop himself, kissing you quickly as he releases into your aching, abused cunt.

Claiming you in more ways than one until you have no choice but to follow.

It rips you apart in the same way he ripped the dress. Until you see stars, and your back arches, and your toes curl. And everything makes sense.

He works to make it last for as long as he can, and once it’s all over, there’s a soft, tender moment of silence as you work to catch your breath.

You forget about everything else. The sirens, the lies, the deceit. Even Johnny. You forget about it all.

Because you got more than a diamond necklace tonight.

You got Harry back.

After a second or two more, you lazily reach up to sweep some of his rogue curls from his forehead. Wanting to really see his eyes as he holds you tonight.

“Harry?” you whisper into the cold, dark alley.

He hums. “Yes, mama?”

“I love you.”

And you’ve never seen him so happy. “I love you more,” he breathes, kiss you again as if to cement this vow.

Eventually, the moment comes to pass, and you have to drop your leg back down to the floor and part from him. You find that your muscles are sore, and just a touch achey, but you don’t even mind. Because it’s somehow just as deliciously pleasurable.

Harry works to readjust your dress and keep you covered; despite the way he’s ruin the expensive fabric. He offers you his jacket – insists on it. Wrapping it around your shoulders before you can even argue.

You smile as you snuggle into the warm material, feeling calmed by the familiar smell of him.

“There,” he says as he looks at you before his head tilts. “Just missing one thing.”

Curious, you watch as he slips his hand back into his pant pocket in order to fish something out.

The necklace.

He hadn’t told you about it before the mission. Only about the safe, and now you think you’re beginning to realize why.

He places it around your neck and readjusts the clasp until it can sit comfortably over your heart.

And you both look down as it sparkles from your chest, smiling together as though you truly can’t believe it’s real.

“You like it?” he whispers.

You grin so wide, your cheeks hurt. “I love it.”

He kisses you again, and it’s perfect.

Everything. All of it.

Him.

Suddenly, a loud toll echoes through the small town. The sharp chime coming from the clocktower in the town square.

Once, twice, three times.

Midnight.

“It’s Christmas,” you realize aloud as you and Harry both glance toward the clock.

His expression softens, and it makes your heart soar. “I guess it is.”

And then…you feel it. The first drop of something cold on your cheek. And then another. And another. And another. Gathering in your hair, getting stuck on his lashes.

Snow.

With a gasp, you look up into the dark sky as it dances down onto the quiet Chicago streets.

A rather perfect ending to a perfectly imperfect day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a soft giggle, you curl yourself under his arm and press your lips to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

He laughs, and you’ve never been so happy.

“Merry Christmas, Mama.”

I'M SORRY THIS ONE GOT A BIT DARKER, IT WAS FUN BUT MOSTLY JUST FOR THE ERA ASPECT!! Thank you for reading if you did and letting me write something a little weirder 😭💞

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs

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midnightarcheress · 1 month

Text

thinking of you becoming price's personal lucky charm :)

cw: f!reader. slightly nsfw. very rushed/unedited. idk shit about casinos or card games lol. 1 | more casino!141

when your friend begged you to dress up fancy and go out with them, a casino was not what you had in mind. especially not an underground one, entrance hardly visible in the dimly lit street, where you even needed a password to get in.

despite being far from your definition of a night out, you decide to give one of the games a chance. the roulette seemed the easiest, with seemingly less rules to learn, and to your surprise, you're crushing it. starting with safe outside bets, you make your way to straight bets and stay winning every single one of them.

at your winning streak, you sense two sets of eyes on you, almost burning your flesh with the heat that crawls to your cheeks. you peek over your shoulder and meet two burly men, one with an icy stare and half-covered face, the other with an adorable boyish smirk and a mohawk. still, both glare at you with an intense puzzled gaze, laced with curiosity and an underlying hunger that makes you shiver.

suddenly, you feel a rough hand settling on your lower back, nearly making you jump on your seat, “what does the pretty lady think about heading to the vip section?” the man says, pearly smile doing a perfectly good job in luring you in, “all that luck needs to be put to good use.”

you ponder for a second, fearing that once you’re in, all your fortune will slip out your fingers and the beginner’s luck will be gone forever. but his sweet brown eyes are too convincing, and you nod, taking his hand and walking through a mysterious door.

“i– i don’t know how to play poker,” you stutter, brows knitted together at the sight of a round table with piles of chips in the center.

"don't worry, love, you're not here to play," a bearded man says, gruff voice followed by a puff of his cigar. he seems a bit older than the one who brought you inside or the two observers, ocean-blue eyes looking at you tenderly, but the sly smirk on his face doesn't go unnoticed.

he pats his thigh, gesturing for you to sit, "my men say you've been quite lucky out there," a smoke cloud forms in front of him, mingling with the strong scent of his cologne, "let's check."

hesitantly, you comply, plush thighs meeting his firm one. he chuckles at your shyness and pulls you closer to his torso by your waist, positioning your ass right above his growing bulge and you bite back a squeal, "name's John."

the game restarts and you watch the dealer distributing the cards. you glance at his hand and he holds five cards, all hearts, which must be a good sign, given the way he squeezed your hip, certainly hard enough to leave a bruise. not that you minded, considering the damp spot forming between your legs.

"would you look at that, straight flush," he flashes you a grin, cigar dangling from his lips as his laugh echoes amongst the annoyed huffs of other players.

his fingers trace your spine, teasingly edging the waistband of your skirt as you try your best not to squirm, "mighty luck you have, love," he whispers in your ear, beard gently grazing your neck.

he hands you one of his golden chips, "for you, as a thank you," your eyes widen at the number 1000 etched in the back, promptly pushing back the gift. he shakes his head, palm sneaking its way to your inner thigh, "there's way more where that came from."

it's safe to say you might become an avid gambler after tonight.

#captain john price #john price #price cod #john price x reader #john price x you #price smut #casino!141 #ghost cod #gaz cod #soap cod #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #fem!reader #price x reader #price x you #casino au #nyx writes ☾#midnightarcheress

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miguel-owhora · 13 days

Text

dragon!price who's an alpha—a lonely alpha. he's been alone for quite some time now, his nest barren and empty, no mate to sing dragonic songs back to him miles away, no mate to rekindle the embers in his heart.

his hoard—sorry, the 141—help him fill these empty spots. soap's rambunctious attitude and gaz's encouragement and ghost's dryly amused comments fill in the lonely parts, bringing him down from the soaring heavens and back to the ground, where price hears the thumping of the earth's core if he falls back into his dragonic instincts deep enough.

dragons are rare to come nowadays. most spend their lives in secrecy, in some rural land most would struggle to pronounce the names of, spent hiding in either solitude or with their mates—and in certain cases, families.

so imagine price's surprise when laswell drops in a new member into his little hoard. she says it's temporary, but there's a glimmer on her eyes when she says it, one that makes sense when price sees you—another dragon.

an omega, price's alpha brain tells him, awakening with glee at another dragon hybrid, at someone who could complete him. a potential mate.

price's alpha instincts are purring when he introduces himself, and he must look like a fool, when he hears his boys sniggering in the background. something lights up something in his chest, instincts roaring to life, when you smile at him and shake his hand. your hand makes his burn, hotter than anything else, hotter than the fire he hatched out of.

it comes to no surprise to him when you're even more reserved than ghost. dragon hybrids are already secretive as they are; omega dragon hybrids are worse. but eventually, price worms his way past the walls you've put up and the fun part comes: courtship.

for every type of naturalborn hybrid that roams earth, they each have their own courtship rituals. for many of them, alphas must prove their worth to their potential mate. werewolf hybrids will bring back game, will defend territory; harpies—depending on which region they live in—will also prove their worth by bringing back prey and helping to build nests.

price can recall the number of times soap had dragged in the corpse of a deer, still warm and fresh to ghost, or how gaz had proudly weaved a wall of brambles and sticks (nevermind the nails and sharp blades) outside ghost's private room. it amused him to no end, seeing them fall prey to their instincts.

but price isn't laughing when he succumbed to his own instincts.

your introduction to the team and you letting price get close to you already had his dragonic alpha mind reeling with excitement. even moreso when you approved of him courting you.

now, dragon hybrids were something else. oftentimes, they were more older than the other hybrids, more ancient and forged deep within the earth's core, connected to mother earth like no other. as such, their courting rituals were more.. barbaric, in other words.

price feels alive when he has to fight you, when your claws dig at his skin and his teeth at your shoulder, near your bite mark. when you roar with fury and punch him away, when your omegan sex has his alphan sex pumping with life. when you both tear up the training room, your set of wings flapping and glittering underneath the artificial lights, when price finally pins you down, when you give a purr of approval.

price finds the prettiest items and gifts them to you, when he dances between feeling overjoyed when you accept it, feeling like he's been stabbed when you reject it. gift by gift price feels pride bloom within him when he sees your little gift hoard grow. when he gifts you a pack of his cherished cigars and gives you his signature hat, he has to go outside and do circles in the heavens when you accept it with gentle hands and carefully guard it.

all of his hard work pays off when you tug him by his scruff and take him to your bedroom, where your bed is carefully nestled with different blankets, with clothes that reek of him. he feels like the luckiest man when you strip yourself of your clothes and lay on the bed, letting your wings—gorgeous things they are—spread out underneath you, take up the bed. your cock, hard and leaking and big, lays on your belly, cum pooling like ichor.

you spread your legs, the scent of an omega ready to mate and take what's theirs, registering in price's brain. it's all he needs before he's racing to tear his clothes off and climbs on you.

he's purring loudly when he touches you all over, dipping his head to kiss at your body, thankful that you gave him the chance to prove his worth. your scent is thick and heavy, musk strong. it makes the embers in his chest flicker and grow to a small fire.

the fire grows when he slips his cock inside, shuddering at how tight and hot you are, burning him. you don't help him, content to lay back and let him figure it out, but price is more than happy to do it by himself. anything for you.

he gets you to cum several times, spilling all over your belly, makes you whimper his name, dig your claws into his back and pull him close to kiss him hard.

price is only ever given permission to cum when you decide he's worthy. your claws dig into your chest and rip it open, an ancient heart beating, cracks of old magic glowing an unusual color. price knows what's to come, but he still grits his teeth when you also rip his chest open.

his knot is forming, catching on your hole, when the two hearts—ancient and waiting for each other after so many years—intertwine together. price pushes his knot in and finally cums, fuck, he shudders and moans, in pleasure and in pain when he feels your anal barbs dig around his cock and knot, making sure he's secured for a while.

the world seems brighter when he collapses on you, open chests bleeding together. he gives little nudges of his hips, cockhead kissing your womb, brushing against your prostate. he feels you sigh contently, and price's heart is a wildfire.

#mr. o'whora's works !#price x male reader #john price x male reader #captain price x male reader #captain john price x male reader #price x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #x male reader #mlm #gay #gay smut

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briefalpacashark · 3 months

Text

~A little brawl~

You decide to show case a bit of your skill to stamp out the ego of a new solider. And you get in trouble.

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You and your team were posted to some random desert somewhere to complete a mission. Having already done so you were gifted with a few days of rest before your transport back home arrived. Price was loving the time off reclined in a dingy old fold out chair that looked on the verge of breaking. A cigar pinched between his teeth and a cold beer in the other hand. His hat sat over his face.

“Working hard or hardly working?” You asked with a grin walking up to him a pile of reports tucked under your arm.

“Can't you tell?” he asked gesturing to himself.

“Medical reports you were after,” with a grunt he sat up taking the reports from you.

“So how are the boys?” he asked.

“Honestly don't know how long you guys survived without a medic,” you shock your head in bewilderment.

“Where are they anyway, haven't seen em all morning,” you said.

“Oh, the little shites are playing with their new friends,” he jabbed his chin across the ways where a small group of soldiers had formed. Once you had finished business with Price you walked over, interested in whatever was happening. Spotting Ghost a head taller than the rest you made your way to his side. The acknowledgment that you had arrived was simply a sideways glance.

“What's going on here?” You asked as your eyes settled on a makeshift ring, its outline defined by a stray circle of rope set on the ground. A ring where Gaz currently was getting his ass handed to him. Your grimaced as his opponent landed a powerful hit. On the other side of the ring stood the team you had been working alongside. A group of grad A assholes. An American team.

“Wanna place a bet?” Soap asked taking a sip of his beer stepping up to your other side.

“I hate to be honest, but Gaz doesn't look like he'll win this fight,” You chuckled under your breath.

“Oh we khen that. We bettin on how long he’ll last,” Soap stated with a grin. All your attention was brought back to the ring when the fight ended with basically a knockout. Money was passed around as you and the boys slipped into the ring helping Gaz to his feet and gently hauling him out. Sitting him down you tried to hide your smirk as you woke him up with a few gentle slaps on the cheek.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You just got ya ass handed to ya by an American,” Soap was far to entertained by the fact.

“Follow my finger,” You ordered Gaz checking for a concussion.

"Alright aright come on my turn," a young cocky bloke from the other term stepped into the make shift ring. He had been a constant annoying fly that seemed to hand around you. You had politely declined his advances. More than once. You though he got the point, after all he had left you alone for a bit.

"Come on Jimmy!" his squad encouraged him. Jimmy was his name.

"Whos it gonna be?” the soldiers all asked.

"How about the bitch of 141?" he asked nodding to you. Your teams smiling faces dropped as the atmosphere did a one sixty. You pressed your lips together.

“I'm good thanks,” you waved dismissively.

“Huh, that's fine. What can you expect from you lot anyway,” he chuckled. You lot? The insult was weak, but it was there.

"Watch your mouth private," Soap's tone showed how quickly his patience for the other squad was becoming.

“Fuck off Pom, or come settle it in the ring,” Jimmy was a cocky young bloke. And little was known about the 141. so, he didn't really understand what he was offering. Well, the severity of it.

“Pom!?” Soap exclaimed in shock. Calling a Scots man British was just about the worst thing you could do. At that very moment Soap looked like he was about to rip the head of the poor lad.

“You know what, why not?’ you asked cheerfully patting Soaps shoulder as you passed him, gently pushing his back to Ghost.

“Look out, her she comes. Anybody got a set of gloves on them. Wouldn't want to catch whatever she's spreading. After all her teammates seem very fond of her,” You wondered where he got to gal of it all. Possibly little dog syndrome.

“Hey man, for your own benefit I would shut the fuck up,” Gaz words of wisdom were swept to the side. Unacknowledged by the confident young solider.

"What you got what she got?" he smriked.

Soap took a step forward only to be stopped when you held out your arm to stop him.

“Come on Soap. Rember what Price said. We need to play nice with the little new soldiers,” the team was barely out of training. It was maybe there third real mission. And Price had told you all to behave.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Soap asked with a little hit of worry as he glared down Jimmy.

"I can look after myself Jonny. Plus, someone's gotta curve this kids' ego," you joked unbuttoning your outer shirt.

"You have faith in me right Ghost?" you asked half jokingly.

"Haven't see it personally but I believe you could take me down. So this fucker aint got a chance," he shrugged simply his tone serious. You propped an eyebrow at him. You didn't know he felt that way. You were sort of chuffed. After all Ghost was good in a hand to hand combat situation.

"Wow Ghost, didn't know you felt that way about me," You joked with a wink. You didn't stay to see his reaction as you stepped into the ring those watching letting out cheers.

"Looks like your used to that," Jimmy muttered as you undressed your outer layer, his eyes resting shamelessly on your chest.

"What are the rules?" you asked shaking your jacket off. Everyone was surprised at the amount of muscle you had. Your frame was small but toned. Plus your team had never really seen your body. Soap let out an impressed whistle at your bear arms.

"Everything goes. No one kills and you tap out when you're done," Jimmy said rising his fists as he smirked.

"What about breaking bones?" you asked throwing your jacket to the side and rolling your shoulders. Your opponent was slightly put off with how calm you were.

"I don't know about breaking, but I've sure got one bone for you,” he winked his statement earning chuckles from his team. You looked your opponent up and down, he was pretty, but not your type.

“I'm flattered but I don't have my magnifying glass on me right now,” This time your own team chuckled. You smirked slightly reaching behind you to take your phone out of your pocket. You had looked down to find a place to throw it. An explosion of pain snapped to your right cheek sending you stumbling.

“Slut,” You straightened up feeling the coppery taste fill your mouth. He had punched you; he hadn't waited till the little bell had rung. A deep chuckle left you lips as you gathered the blood in your mouth and spit it to the side. Slut, you hated that word.

“The fuck was that!” Soap yelled in anger only being held back by Ghost. Why, because he had full confidence in what you were about to do.

“We hadn't started yet,” you chuckled rage bubbling inside you.

“Everything goes,” he shugged.

“Yeah, everything goes,” you nodded. Now you were a calm person, you were reasonable and rational. But the guy in front of you was cocky. And you so wanted to repay his for every unwanted advance he put forth.

You stalked forward your eyes narrowing in at him, then as you stepped right up to him you let lose. It was so quick he was barely able to throw up a block. Your fist cracked into his nose with such precision and speed that he fell back onto his ass. In a daze he stumbled back to his feet as you shock out your hand. He had a hard head.

“Get em Love!” Soap cheered for you.

He threw a wild hay maker to which you simply ducked under. Delivering another punch you aimed for his kidney. The hit crippled him, he fell to one knee. Taking his head in hand you brought it down onto your knee. You weren't a violent person, but you knew how to end a fight quickly. After all it was those skill that kept you alive. And while you never took any pleasure in it you felt a slight tingle of satisfaction.

Pushing him back you gave him a minute to breathe through the daze.

“Tapping out?” You asked. He looked like he wanted to. His anger flared at the sympathetic look you gave him. At how quickly you had managed to beat him. And how pathetic he looked because of it.

“To a slut like you?” he asked stabling to his feet. He was in no position to fight. You almost felt bad for what you had done.

“Come on mate, you can barely stand. Let's call it a day yeah?” you were happy to keep going, but you were actually worried for the boy now.

“Fuck you,” he seethed. Your forced a smile.

“Well then I'm tapping out,” you said tapping your thigh. You didn't want to continue, and you thought that would be the end of it. So, you turned your back to them. So, you didn't see the coward punch Jimmy threw. You didn't see it heading for your head. What you did see was a mass of black crowd your vision. Ghost had appeared Infront of you. You frowned as his arm shoot past your head, seeming to catch something. At the quick movement you jerked around following his arm to see he had caught the punch inches from your head. In one swift movement Ghost had swept you behind him as he twisted the man hand in painful position.

“Now that was just plane stupid,” Ghost stated as Jimmy cried out dropping to his knees at the pressure. In an instant both squads were at each others throats, yelling and throwing insults.

“You alright love?” Ghost voice broke through the commotion as he back over his shoulder at you while he still held the man in the hand lock.

“Y-Yeah,” you nodded.

“Keep your bitch on a leash!” Someone from the other team yelled.

“I'll put ye in a leash!” Soap snapped. Thats all that was needed. After that all hell broke loose.

So, there you sat. back in your own base tent that you shared with the boys. You were all lined up in a row. You and Soap sat in the middle the widest grins on your busted up faces. The insults throw quickly resulted in a brawl. One you had originally tried to break up before getting caught up in it. Ghost sat on the other side of you, his mask covering some of the hits he took. Gaz sat on the other side of Soap shaking his head at the two of you.

Price stood in front of you all an angry expression on his face.

Do you remember in school when you would look at your best friend and just randomly start laughing. Well, that's what happened to you when you peeked at Soap out the corner of your eye. You both broke out into laugher that sounded strangled as you tried to keep it in.

“I can't even leave you unsupervised for one fucking second,” Price pinched the bridge of his nose.

“They started it,” Soap interjected.

“Shut up,” Price snapped. Soap ducked his head his smirk widening.

“He tried to get her when her back was turned,” Ghost stated nodding down to you.

“Well, still did you have to beat the shit out of them?” Price words brought proud smirks to all your faces. Compared to the four of you the other team looked to be just out of commission. In the end you all delt worse than you were given.

“They were talking shit. Had to set them straight,” Gaz explained with a shrug.

“I understand that, but all I'm asking for is a little self-control. I mean who put that lads head through that brick wall?” Price put and emphasis on the word brick. You all turned to Ghost who had personally express delivered Jimmy's head to the other side of the wall. Under the attention Ghost simply shrugged and looked away.

“You're all on tent arrest,” Price declared. You all groaned and began to protest slightly.

“Enough!” he snapped.

“This is what happens. When you misbehave you get privileges taken away,” You and Soap once again tried to hold back your laughter. It was like he was scolding a group of toddlers.

“And your two smart asses are on clean up duty,” he declared pointing to the two of you.

“Ha,” Gaz chuckled.

“Fucking kids,” Price grumbled as he walked away. There were a few moments of silence as you all came to terms with the consequences you faced.

“That was defiantly worth it,” you stated.

"Defiantly," - Gaz

"Fuck yeah," - Soap

"Should have done worse," - Ghost.

Another moment of silence passed around you before you all chuckled softly. You could even see Ghost shoulder shake slightly. You looked up to him with a thankful smile.

"Thank you," you whispered. To your utter shock and bewilderment he glanced down at you.

AND WINKED!

"Anytime love," he stated before getting up and walking away. Leaving you to wonder if what you had seen was an illusion or not.

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--COD Master List Here--

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#141 x you #141 x reader #task force 141 #cod 141 #tf 141 #mw2 141 #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader

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mistydeyes · 1 year

Text

opposite occupations

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summary: all the 141 boys have different plans while on leave, each having their own idea of how to spend the time. but when they run into a lovely civilian, they realize that all the long hours, deployments, and trainings worth it.

pairing: 141 x civvie!fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, all fluff :)

a/n: I love me a good little meet cute

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price - florist

Everyone knew that the minute Price went home, he would be making the trek to his favorite cigar shop. It had been one he frequented for years, the familiar sign welcoming him home. Most shops on the street stayed the same. He liked the constancy, the familiarity.

As he rounded the street corner, he noticed a new shop had filled the unoccupied next door. The pale pink awning and rose-tinted glass were a new sight to see. "Sentiments of Carnations" he read as he walked past. He could see through the window that the shop had not yet been opened, noting the smell of fresh paint and empty displays. He wondered what grandma had put their retirement money into this florist shop.

He continued, opening the cigar shops store and smelling the musk of smoke and tobacco. "Ah John, I have your regulars set aside," the old shop owner said with a smile. "Back again for long?" he asked upon his return with a dark oak box. "Just waiting for another phone call from his majesty," he joked and slid over the usual bank notes. "I'll be seeing you," Price said as he opened the door and exited with the familiar chime of the bell.

As he embraced the warmth of the summer England weather, he pulled out one of his fresh purchases, excellently wrapped and balanced. He flipped open his lighter from his pocket and sat down to have his first smoke at home. He closed his eyes and savored the notes of espresso and hickory. As he sat in his small nirvana, he heard the florist's doors open.

He turned as he saw you, a flower behind your ear and a pink apron that perfectly matched the outside of the shop. You were not the grandma he had expected and instead were beautiful, the sun catching your lovely features. You had placed an antique table outside, along with a bucket of a colorful array of flowers adorned with a handwritten tag. You hung a small sign on the table that read, "Take one for a friend, family member, or loved one." You smiled at yourself, proud of the little display. You turned your head and noticed the mature man enjoying his smoke only a meter away from you. You picked out a scarlet carnation and walked over to the man, handing it to him.

"Here, you go," you said as his calloused fingers held the flower delicately. "A flower to brighten someone's day," you said with a smile. "Thank you, although I am not a man for flowers," he replied and extinguished his cigar. "Well, flowers can be for a variety of reasons, a friendly gesture, a gift for someone you fancy, or even something to brighten up your flat."

You ended with a sweet smile and he could feel himself melt on the spot. Something about the floral aroma emanating from the flower behind your ear along with your soft voice and pleasantries added to his current state of nirvana. You were so radiant in this light and he appreciated the kind gesture, especially upon his return home.

"No one to give a romantic gesture to, but thank you," he replied. "Well if that ever changes, my shop opens later this week! The shop's number is on the tag" you said before giving him a small wave and wink. He could hear the shop's door close as you began to set up your display and paint a mural on one of the walls. As he twisted the carnation in his hand, he knew he would be adding your shop to his routine becoming your most frequent customer.

soap - tattoo artist

Soap looked at his phone, making sure he was in the right place. His favorite tattoo shop near his Scottish home had closed and he was taking a recommendation from Ghost.

"She's got an attitude but her work is amazing," Ghost had said before Soap's deployment. He couldn't deny the craftsmanship of her work on Ghost's arm. He marveled at the attention to detail as Ghost proudly shoved off his ornate sleeve.

Soap had an appointment for today, previously approving of the artist's rendition of his vision. A black-and-white thistle, a charm his mother had said. It was commonly known to keep its owner away from danger and bad acquaintances. Something Soap needed on the battlefield.

He pushed the maroon door open, admiring the many gold frames with what he assumed were some of the artists' work. He let out a light chuckle as he noticed a framed sketch of Ghost's sleeve. He was just about to snap a picture when a voice called out, "Hey Mohawk, this isn't a museum."

He turned around to see a woman, a gorgeous one at that. You were wearing a tank top that showed off a collage of various tattoos in different styles. You had been taking a break and relaxed, sitting behind a desk, feet propped up.

"Actually, lass, I'm here with an appointment," he said, walking over to you. "Name's John MacTavish." he finished with a cheeky smile.

"Ah MacTavish, one of Riley's military boys I'm guessing. How's that masterpiece of mine doing?" you joked, Soap didn't know what to say. Were you and Ghost a thing?

You laughed at his pause, "My tattoo, Mohawk. There's no way I'd be shagging his Halloween-looking-arse." Soap appreciated the heads up about your attitude and knew this was gonna be a fun session.

"Looks gorgeous, Sweetheart. Just like yourself," he poked back and you let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. "Don't flatter yourself, you can go make yourself comfortable in my station over there. Looks like you're only getting a bicep tat, so I better not see your shirtless arse back there."

Soap made his way to where you motioned, sitting down in the black velvet chair. You came in a few minutes later with your sketch and supplies. You closed the scarlet curtains behind you before walking over to prep his arm.

As you sat in relative silence, Soap asked, "So what do the tattoos mean, Lass?" You finished your prep work and were working on the correct tattoo placement. "Travels from around the world. I took it upon myself to get a tattoo in every new country."

With that, you offered him a mirror so he could approve of the sketch and placement. The tattoo rested on his right bicep and he made sure to look at it at every angle and made sure to flex for your enjoyment.

"Alright, muscle man, this should only take a few hours as long as you don't pass out on me," you said and began to tattoo your next masterpiece. During the next two hours, you made conversation about the tattoos meaning, his life in Scotland, and you even shared more intimate details about your travels.

The hours flew by like minutes to Soap as you let him know you were finished. He admired the detailed flower and you handed him some care instructions with some cream. "And your buddy paid for you ahead of time, so you're all set, Mohawk" you replied and Soap got off of the chair.

"See you around, my world-class woman," he joked as he exited the door. You slightly cringed, wondering if writing your number on the tube of aftercare cream was a good idea or not.

gaz - primary school teacher

Gaz looked at himself in his flat's mirror. He brushed a hand over his freshly cut hair and evened out his dress shirt. "Just a favor for a friend," he said to himself as he walked to catch the next tram. Two days ago, an old colleague during his days working with the metro police force had reached out to him. They called in a favor, "Kyle c'mon it's just a couple of primary students, all you need to do is give a little talk about stranger danger." Knowing he had nothing else better to do, Gaz agreed.

As he signaled the tram to stop, Gaz looked at the brown brick building reminding him of his younger days. Gaz walked in, checking in with the receptionist who directed him to the classroom where he'd be giving his talk. He was early, the school had not yet opened but he was asked to have the presentation at the beginning of class before the children's lessons. He admired the walls filled with the artwork of the students, silly attempts at drawing their families. He finally reached your classroom, noting the smiling sunflower on your opened door. He knocked softly and he saw you lift your head to greet him. If he had known you would be so beautiful, he would have not needed his friend's encouragement.

"Ah you must be Sgt. Garrick," you said, beginning to get up from your desk to greet him. You smoothed out your skirt and placed your glasses down. "It's just Kyle," he said and returned your friendly smile and warm handshake.

"Well Kyle, the children should be arriving in a few minutes. I'll get them settled and introduce you for your small talk today," you said with a grateful nod. You motioned for him to sit at your desk as you stood at your door to greet your excited second-year students. Gaz played on his phone and smiled as he heard you return the children's happy good mornings with a similar high-energy one. The students began to file in, placing their bags in their cubbies, and sitting with their friends. You heard small whispers from the children, wondering what you were doing at their teacher's desk. He let out a chuckle when he heard one boy whisper, "Is that Miss Y/N's husband? He's sitting in her chair."

Finally, with all the children in their seats, you walked to the front of the classroom and greeted your students warmly. "Good morning everyone, today we have a very special guest with us. This is our friend, Kyle, and he's here today to tell you all a little something before we start our lessons."

Kyle knew this was his cue, he rose from your desk and swapped places with you at the front of the room. "Hi everyone, today I'm going to teach you smart kids about something called 'Stranger Danger'." The children oohed in response as Kyle waved his hands in a fake menacing manner. You smiled as he was a natural. The children were attentive, writing down the information as he spoke and working together with their classmates to fill out the worksheet answers. Kyle ended his talk and asked if anyone had any questions. One child raised her hand and Kyle called on her. "Is Miss Y/N a stranger? I'm confused."

"I'm your teacher, Amelia. Teachers that you know aren't strangers," you responded and Kyle nodded in agreement. Another kid raised their hand and asked, "But you aren't Kyle's teacher, so you're a stranger to him."

Before either one of you could respond, his friend boasted, "It's because they're married, your Mum and Dad aren't strangers to each other." Both you and Kyle shared a look and he saw the soft blush rise to your face. "Ah we're just friends," he said and saved you the embarrassment.

Little did Kyle know, his email would chime that night with a thankful message from you along with your number at the bottom asking him to breakfast that weekend.

ghost - veterinarian

Unlike most people, Ghost loved the quiet ambiance of London's rainfall. The streets were empty and peaceful as people were cozying up in their homes with a blanket. Enjoying the evening air and cold, he walked with an umbrella in one hand and a warm cup in the other. His boots resounded on the cobblestone street as he sipped his Earl Grey tea. His chest was warm from the bold citrus and bergamot liquid. This was, in his opinion, an ideal leave well spent.

The rhythmic rain fell and his walking was interrupted by a soft mewing. Simon hurried down the street to find the source of the noise. In front of a grocer's, he noticed a small cardboard box being drenched by the unrelenting rain. He placed his cup down and gently lifted the box. Underneath was a small grey cat, cuddled into a ball to experience some semblance of warmth. Simon placed his umbrella to shield the box and lifted the tiny meowing animal into his hands.

As he cradled the cat to his chest, he heard a click of heeled boots behind him. He turned his now-drenched head to notice you walking up with a bright orange umbrella adorned with cat paws. "Excuse me, Sir, but is he yours?" you asked gesturing to the ball of grey that laid meowing in his arms. "Uh he's not, I found this little fella underneath this box here."

"Ah a Good Samaritan, I see. Well, I own the veterinarian shop down the way, I can take him off your hands if you'd like and make sure this little lad gets the care he needs," you said and offered a hand to hold the kitten. You noticed his slight hesitation and said, "If you'd like, I'll give you my card so you can take the little one home when he's all better."

"That would be nice," he smiled underneath his black face mask. Simon loved animals, never being permitted to have one as a child. As you held the kitten in your arm, you handed him your umbrella. He initially tried to refuse but you insisted saying, "You're soaked, I'll be alright." You ended with a small giggle which made Ghost warmer than his now cold cup of tea.

"The least I can do is walk you back to your shop," he replied a little too quickly. He instantly realized the surprising force he had said that with and followed up with, "You know, just so you and Earl Grey can make it there in this weather.

"Earl Grey, I like that. That's my favorite order, especially on days like this." Simon moved slightly behind you, holding the umbrella to shield the three of you on your walk. The air was filled with the familiar scent of rain and the notes of your floral perfume. "I'm Dr. L/N by the way, but most people just call me, Y/N," you said as you continued on your way. "I'm Simon, a pleasure to meet you doc."

Three weeks later Simon's house was filled with all the necessities for a new cat father. As he grabbed his coat, he pulled out a water-stained business card with the vet's office address and your number written on the back. He smiled to himself as he traced his fingers over the small handwriting saying, "To Earl Grey's owner, fancy a cup of tea with me?"

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badasmuse · 6 months

Text

“Birthday Sex”

Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), smoking, penetrative sex, lowercase intended, language, cute names, top!bada, bottom!reader, reader is a dickhead lowkey but not to bada

Summary: it’s y/n’s birthday. ofc bada gon do her right.

a/n: it’s actually my birthday🤭here’s my gift to y’all. my gift FROM y’all? blow this mf up pls!

Song to listen to: Birthday Sex by Jeremih

“i’m so pissed i have to work on my fucking birthday.” you said into the phone standing outside your job taking a smoke break.

“i know my love but you only have a few more hours left. when you get home i’ll have dinner ready, movies and wine, and i’ll run you a bath. does that sound good?” bada asks softly. she knows how upset you are and she doesn’t want to say anything that could make you more upset.

“yeah that sounds amazing.” you inhale the black n mild between your fingers and flick the ashes blowing out the smoke. “i just wish i was in bed with you right now. i’m tired. i asked for it off they told me no. i asked someone to switch shifts they said no. i was gonna call off but they said i’d get written up and i already have two fucking write ups for punching a customer and telling my manager to suck my dick. well that’s not why- i said suck my dick and she said i don’t have one and i replied with “yeah but my girlfriend has a big ass strap and i’d shove it so far down your throat it’ll come out your ass.” then i got written up.”

bada blinks, “y/n you did not tell me that.”

“i know. fuck i gotta go i love you.” you put out the black and hang up when bada returns the words of affection.

hours later you look at the time and and sigh. “fucking finally.”

“y/n i need you to stay an extra-“ you cut your manager off.

“nah bro it’s my birthday and i want to go the fuck home. you and these customers can eat my shorts.” you clock out and dip the fuck out. hopping in your car and speeding out the parking lot bumping your music loudly.

when you get home, you mouth waters at the smell of pasta in the air. “bada?” you say kicking off your shoes.

“hi my love! how was work?” she asks from the kitchen.

“terrible. i hate it there.” you hug her from behind. “i missed you.”

“i missed you more. go sit down i’ll make your plate.” she says, rubbing your knuckles.

once she sets the plate in front of you, you practically moan tasting the alfredo on your tongue.

“is it good?” she asks.

“fucking amazing. i love you.” you say wiping sauce off your mouth with a napkin.

bada once again asks about your day and you tell her everything. you start with the customer you called a dickhead for commenting on how your boobs looked in your work shirt and end with your boss asking you to stay another hour. by now you guys are in the bathroom waiting for the tub to fill up.

“i told her to eat my shorts.” you say, stripping out of your clothes.

bada laughs, turning off the water. “you’re gonna get fired. get in the tub.”

you shrug, “i don’t care i hate her.” a moan leaves your mouth again as you sink into the tub. “can i smoke?” you ask.

she’s never been a fan of you smoking so she doesn’t let you do it in the house but, “since it’s your birthday, i’ll allow it.” she goes and pulls a black from your purse and the lighter she had custom made for your last birthday.

“thank you. i’ll brush my teeth again to get the taste out for when we kiss.” you say lighting it.

her face scrunches at the smell but she remains in the bathroom. she puts her hand in the water running it up and down your leg that isn’t exposed. “i wish we could’ve spent all day together.” she says quietly.

“i know honey i do too. i would quit but i don’t have anything lined up right now.” you sigh.

“we need a receptionist at justjerk… i can put in a good word for you.” she says trailing her fingers up your thigh.

“you’re saying one thing but you’re thinking about something else.” you blow smoke, putting your cigar out.

“you had a stressful day. i just wanna make you feel better.” she says dragging her fingers further up your thigh. “and it’s your birthday..”

she pulls the drain plug and helps you stand, taking down the shower head so she can rinse the bubbles off you. she moves it further down, holding it against your clit for a second before moving down your legs.

a soft whine escapes your lips and bada’s head snaps up. “was that a whine?” she smirks.

usually you’re the dominate one. loud, assertive, all that. especially in bed. man does bada like that. occasionally you’ll let bada top, like when she’s mad and needs to let out steam (which is damn near never. she’s always so happy and giggly.) but, hearing you whine woke something up inside her. now she kinda wants to pin you down and pound into you until you cum all over the bed.

you don’t respond, biting your lip. bada doesn’t like that. “i asked a question.”

your thighs clench as you look down at her, “yes…it was a whine.” you mumble.

she giggles kissing your nose. “come on let’s go in the room.” helping you out, bada wraps you in a towel and guides you to the room. after you brush your teeth of course.

you sit on the bed quietly as bada re-emerges from the closet with her strap in hand. your eyes close at the thought of her using it on you. it’s been awhile and that thing is huge.

bada pushes you back against the bed opening your towel. you put your legs up, spreading them wide for her. you’re dripping onto the towel as you watch her put the strap on.

“bada..” you whine out, “please fuck me.” please fuck me? who are you right now y/n? since when do you beg???

another giggle leaves bada’s lips as she runs the tip of her strap over your clit. she slowly pushes it in, taking her time cause she knows it’s been too long since you bottomed.

tears fill your eyes as she pushes into you. “fuck.” you whisper, covering your face.

“shhh, you’re okay. i’ll go slow.” she says pushing in deeper but at a very slow pace.

“oh god bada wait.” you say when she’s in all the way.

she leans over and plants a kiss on your forehead. “take your time. we have all night.”

after a few minutes you nod your head and bada starts thrusting slowly. you gasp feeling her hit your spot head on. you open your mouth to say something but your phone cuts you off.

“fuck who the fuck..” you go to reach for it but bada grabs you, pinning you down to the bed. “don’t touch that fucking phone.”

you moan in response as her thrusts speed up. your thighs shake and you writhe on the bed. “oh fuck bada just like that!” you scream as she starts pounding into you. “feels.. fuck. you- oh my god..”

“can’t even form sentences. my dumb birthday girl.” bada pants, holding your wrists with one hand and using the other to rub your swollen clit with her long fingers.

you let out another scream as you r body spasms. “cum.. bada c-cum.” you say. you’re supposed to be asking her if you can… or telling her you have to. you’re not too sure anymore. you’re just thinking about the feeling of her thick strap hitting your gspot so good.

“cum for me baby… i need a big mess to clean up.” she giggles, lifting your leg on her shoulder.

her giggles make you moan louder. you clench around the strap, cumming hard. your vision goes white and your leg shakes on her shoulder. “fuck bada pull out it’s too much.”

she does as you ask and bites her lip as she watches your cum squirt out of you. she now remembers why you hate bottoming.

“fuck the bed is gonna be all wet and we’ll have to sleep in the guest room.” you whine out when you come down from your high.

“baby.. relax. you came on the towel. the bed is fine.” bada says taking off the strap. like always, she kneels down and starts licking the cum off your thighs and your cunt making sure you’re not too sticky before you go to bed.

you moan loudly. you feel clean but she keeps eating you out. “OKAY- big thirsty ass that’s enough.” you moan pushing her head back. “you got it all up.”

she pouts, “but you taste good.”

“let me rest. wake me up in an hour and i’ll let you eat me out till your heart gives out.” you mutter closing your eyes.

“happy birthday my love.” she whispers as you fall asleep.

W birthday honestly.

#bada lee #bada lee smut #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #swf2 #squidnotes #happy birthday squid!#Spotify

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the-californicationist · 4 months

Text

Good Fences (Fluffuary #06)

FEB06: Acts of Devotion

You awoke the next morning to a loud banging outside your window. It was early enough that your alarm still hadn’t gone off. At first, you were scared, but when you glanced outside and saw the broad, strong back of your handsome neighbor, you were pleasantly surprised.

John was wearing suede working gloves with no shirt, wielding a hammer, and building something against the shared wall of your apartments. You slid the door ajar and wrapped your blanket around your shoulders to preserve what little modesty you had left for this man.

“John?”

“Oh, sorry, love. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he smiled and began to affix another piece of wood to his creation.

“What is this?”

“You were talkin’ about your tomatoes,” he said, not pausing his work, “Needin’ a trellis, innit that right?”

“Wow,” you took another look at his work and put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. You needed him to hear your gratitude, “John, this is so kind of you. Thank you.”

He towered over you on the porch, and you realized how close you had been standing to him. John was looking down into your face, taking in your words, wrapping them up in his mind and saving them for later.

He took a gloved hand and tilted your chin up just a bit, as if he might kiss you. You spent ages there, locked in his gaze, breathing the same air, feeling the wind on your cheek and his strong finger on your jaw. But, at the last moment, he turned away, going back to his work.

You spent the better part of the day working. There were two students who really needed support, and you wanted to do your best for them. You were worn out, and as the afternoon faded away to the evening time, you’d forgotten that you had promised you’d make dinner tonight for John. It was a Wednesday, and those were always your days for dinner.

When he showed up with a whiskey and a wine, you nearly burst into tears. You held it together, but barely.

“John, today was an absolute shit show. I haven’t even had time to breathe, much less do dinner. And after you built my trellis for me; I feel terrible for letting you down. Can you please forgive me?”

“Don’t worry, love. I saw you workin’ while I was cleanin’ up outside, and I called Antonio’s an hour ago. Check the bag.”

He set all of his gifts down on your counter for you to inspect. You peered inside and saw what he had done.

“Oh, my God,” you opened the bag he’d brought and there were two warm pasta carbonara dishes waiting for you. Breadsticks included. “John, you didn’t.”

“You’re busy savin’ the world, love. Feels good to be able to do somethin’ nice for you, if you’ll let me. I know I’m your neighbor, and I know that makes things complicated… but, I like you. And I like spending my time on you. Is that alright?”

You stepped into his space, just as you’d been standing on the porch, and you felt his heavy hands wrap around your waist, cradling you in his strong arms. Then, he cupped your cheek with a warm palm, holding your face up to his. His voice was a ragged whisper,

“If it’s not alright, you’ve gotta tell me now. ‘Cause I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, crashing your lips against his. You felt him react almost immediately, smiling against your mouth, kissing you back. You felt his tongue slide against yours, opening you up to him, tasting you and holding you tightly.

He only pulled away when you did. Smiling with you, and laughing a bit to himself,

“Bloody hell, I’ve been waiting for that, love.”

“Me, too,” you confessed.

You were determined to show John how you truly felt about him, so the next day, you knocked on his door, packed and ready to take him on a whole slew of adventures just for him. You’d bought tickets to the local soccer match, and you’d booked an evening at a cigar bar downtown. You’d even planned a small picnic for lunch, but when he opened the door, you felt a lump in your throat. Something wasn’t right.

He was on the phone, and he held a finger to his lips, asking you for silence as you came into his apartment. You shut the door behind you as quietly as you could and sat with him on his couch. He was answering questions in yes and no statements, and you could tell he wanted to fill you in, so you waited patiently.

Then, he hung up, and he threw his phone down on the coffee table with a loud thud.

“Bad news, love.”

“What is it? Are you alright?”

He took your hands in his and sighed,

“I’ll be overseas for… work. But, I’ll be back here the moment it’s done.”

“Overseas? For how long?” You put your hands on his cheeks, studying his blue eyes for some answers.

He smiled, but it was a sad one,

“A while.”

When he kissed you this time, it felt like goodbye, and you prayed that it wasn’t.

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

#the californicationist does fluff #fluffuary 2024 #fluffuary #john price fluff #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod #cod fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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ghouljams · 10 months

Note

Fae someone giving a diamond to their darling and she’s freaking out and they’re like ??? It’s just a silly shiny something

Ok, maybe not a diamond but Fae!Price does shit like this to his witch all the time, menace that he is. She is desperately trying to keep up on repaying him.

"What is that?" You ask, staring at the red resinous cubes that Price is holding out to you on a neat black handkerchief. Your hands are actually starting to shake a little just from seeing it.

"Socotra sap," He says so easily you think he's fucking with you. Your fingers reach out to touch it, reverent.

"Dragon blood I- how did you get your hands on-" You shake your head, pull your hand away, "What is it? A gift? A- a boon?" You wrack your mind for anything you have to repay him for this.

"It doesn't have to be anything," He tugs a string on the edge of the handkerchief and it folds up like a bag. The hard red sap disappearing from view before he holds the offering out to you.

"Everything is something," You say carefully, "What-" You bite your tongue before you can ask a dangerous question, before your greed can get the better of you. What does he want for it? It's magically valuable, you both know that, but you don't think Price has any use for it.

He raises a brow at your silent hesitation, leans against the threshold of your garden. "You're turning it down?" His deep voice jogs you from your thoughts. No, you know turning down his gift has the potential to be worse than accepting it. You just need to repay him.

"No," You tell yourself firmly, "No, it's a very kind gift I just need you to wait here a moment."

Price blinks, but nods. He's more than willing to wait for you, after all that's the only thing he's been doing. Waiting for you to stumble over something so he can pick up a piece of you. He's interested to see what you repay him with. Truth be told the only thing this resin is good for is-

"You smoke right?" You ask, settling jars and various strange books on the wall, "Cigars?"

Ah, that's cute. You remembered. He grins, and sets the bag in your outstretched hand. It's fun watching you pull caps off of jars and sniff them, tugging notated paper free from one of the books as you fish chalk out of your pocket to draw a hasty circle on the wall. He leans close as you bend over the circle to work, smelling the soft floral notes of your shampoo. You make his mouth water.

"You make a lot of cigars?" He asks, instead of biting you when you lean through the threshold. You hum, head bobbing from side to side as you partition out tobacco on leaves.

"Not recently, but I had a client that liked to smoke them before court." Price isn't usually one to envy other men, but God does he feel it licking like fire at his ribs.

"Had?" You nod, opening a jar of sparse white flowers and red roots.

"Wife killed him," you break off a few pieces of the dried root and put it in a little rock bowl. Seemingly too distracted to care about the fantastic story you were avoiding.

"Really," he asks, you're so lovely up close like this, both of you leaning against the brick wall. You look up at him through your lashes with a small smile.

"Nope," you twist your pestle against the root, grinding the root down into a powder, "he decided to quit smoking." You look back at your work, grabbing another bottle. It looks like another root, but at least he knows the flower this time, morning glory. What are you cooking up there?

"I've missed making these." You smile at your work, opening the dragon's blood satchel and breaking a piece off to add to the mortar mixture. Your fingers are so deft, purposeful as you grind the roots and resin down.

He'd love those pretty little fingers to wrap around his cock. Would you even know what to do when they did? Would your nose scrunch up in concentration like it did now, your lips parted just enough to pout as you worked? Oh pretty little witch, would you get on your knees for him and beg?

"You will, " he mumbles. You hum questioningly, glancing at him as he hums back. You must not think it's important enough to question further, must not want to break your precious intent. Witches are always so fond of their focus.

You sprinkle your mixture over the filler tobacco, careful as you combine the two and start rolling the cigar. No, cigars, you portioned out for two. Smart girl, weighing your own value for the gift against your talents. You twist the end of the wrapper, and swipe your finger on an open tin before running it along the end of the wrapper to seal it. You do the same on the other end to cap it.

Price takes the finished cigar when you offer it, watching you work on the second one. It smells good, heady and resinous, and something else. "What's it supposed to do?" He isn't an expert on the herbal fuckery you witches do.

"Hex breaker, command spell, decent smoke," you list, half paying attention to him as you finish your spell, "they need to dry for a day or so, try not to smoke them until then."

Price hums, you keep your focus on your work and not on the way he inspects your gift. His thick fingers twisting the cigar between them, the soft sizzle of evaporating water. You know magic when you hear it, wild magic your grandmother used to call it. The kind you'd never hope to have.

You should hang up additional wards before he lights either of these. There's no telling what a debtor might do with this extra kick, not to mention one who seems set on you. You hold out the second cigar, you don't feel any extra weight from a tether.

"Fair trade," Price tells you, you'd have thought he'd be annoyed but he almost sounds pleased. "Now run along back inside like a good little girl, I know you want to put your new toy away."

You really do, too. You lick your thumb and rub out part of the chalk circle, breaking it easily before you gather your things to take back inside. You're positively brimming with spells that could use a little kick of dragon's blood.

"I'll bring you something nicer tomorrow," Price warns you, you don't hear him as you close the door.

Herbs used: Tobacco, bloodroot, dragon's blood sap, morning glory root

#Busted out my grimoire to make Price's cigars #congrats to his witch for making a really powerful hex breaker that also is a love spell #also a really powerful control spell which was her intent #giving her fae more power was not a smart idea but she was moderately panicking #oh Price is going to be such a fucking showoff with his fancy cigars the other fae boys hate him so much lol #captain john price #captain price #john price mw2 #john price x reader #fae!price #cod x reader #cod x y/n #john price #x reader

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imyourbratzdoll · 5 months

Text

𝒂 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒋𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔

so, I saw something similar on tiktok and wanted to write it, credits to the person who came up with it.

summary - being a new member of the largest superhero team, you'd think that things would go well, but everything is revealed when christmas rolls around.

warning - angst.

the gif and header I use isn't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

It was rare for the two teams to merge, but every December around Christmas time they would, and with you being the newest member of the Avenger gang. This would be your first-time celebrating Christmas altogether. You watched curiously as they all hung large socks along the fireplace, happy chatter filling the air. “What are those?” You tilt your head.

“Stockings.” You look at Natasha as she replies, “It’s a Christmas tradition where you put small presents inside the stockings of those you care for.” You nod, and your eyes light up.

“Oh cool!” For the rest of the day you intently listen and observe to pick out the perfect things for them, and over the course of the next few weeks. You slowly begin to fill their stockings, your eyes would fall to yours and notice how empty it looked. But you had hope, there were still a few more days till Christmas and maybe they just haven’t gotten around to it yet. Except Steve walks in and you notice his hands are full, and how he puts a gift for everyone but you. It was as if you were invisible because he didn’t even look at you. “Oh…”

You continue to splurge and buy everyone things they like, in hopes that you were wrong about them. You skip out of your room on the big day, excited for your first Christmas. When you enter the room, you notice everyone going to their stockings before their presents and expressing happiness with the items they received and with your own excitement, you head over to your stocking and it feels as though the world has stopped. Your stocking was still empty, you finally realised you really meant nothing to the team. You didn’t blame the X-men for not putting anything in because you had only just met them, but your own team? It hurt, you could feel the tears beginning to brim.

You quickly blink them away before sitting down next to Jean and give her a soft smile, making sure to keep your emotions away from your face and thoughts. “How are you liking it here?” You gnaw on your bottom lip, turning your gaze to your team handing out their presents.

“I don’t mind it, how about you? I heard this is your first Christmas?” You could see the questions lingering in her eyes, because anyone would question how you could never have a Christmas, but she never completely asks.

You nod, “Yes, yes. It’s my first and I don’t know… It’s not what I thought it would be.” You stare off, not receiving any presents alongside the stocking. “I’m uh… I’m just going to go for a walk, I don’t feel so good.” You force a smile and get up, heading outside before you could break down in front of everyone. Once you head outside, you break down. You felt like you’d rather be back where you came from. At least your enemies didn’t forget about you.

“They are all jerks.” You jump as you hear a gruff voice from behide you, you turn, locking eyes with the one and only Wolverine, a cigar between his lips and his eyes harshly set on you. “Not much of heroes when they brag about it every two seconds.” He pushes off the wall and moves closer to you, something catching your eye as the moonlight shines on his hand.

You look and tilt your head, wiping your cheeks roughly, “What’s that?” Your mouth falls open when he pulls up a cute stocking decorated with glitter, filled to the brim with a small wrapped present resting at the top. “It’s so cute! Whoever it’s for is very lucky.” You give a soft smile, knowing no one would ever get you anything.

Logan shakes his head. “It’s for you, sweets. Those guys are arseholes, they don’t deserve someone as sweet as you on their team.” You feel your breath hitch as he growls, “Open it, honey.” He hands you the stocking and present, leaning against the wall and puffing on the cigar as he watches you open everything.

You gasp, “Oh my god! This is so beautiful, thank you!” You look at him with tears in your eyes as you open the present on the top, a small adorable wolf necklace sits inside the box. You move closer, awkwardly wanting to hug him but not knowing if that will cross a line. Logan raises a brow, placing the cigar between his teeth as he opens his arms. You launch forward and wrap your arms around him, not knowing how to express the feelings that are bubbling up inside. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, darlin’, now why don’t you look inside the stocking. I had Jean and the other women help choose what we thought you’d like.” You look shocked, wondering why a team that wasn’t yours would care more for you than the one you are currently in. Logan reaches up and wipes a tear that falls down your cheek, “We take care of our own, Y/n.”

Your bottom lip juts out as it wobbles, and you slowly reach inside, sobs escape you as you find everything you like and some new things you’ve wanted to try. “Oh my god…” You feel like you are loved and wanted, but then an overbearing sadness erupts throughout you as you realise that you are stuck with people who don’t want you.

“That is not true, Miss L/n.” You turn and notice the whole X-men team are there, giving you soft smiles. “I have ordered for your things to be transferred. As Logan said, we take care of our own and you, Miss L/n are one of us.”

All you could utter are the words thank you. Maybe your first Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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97keanu · 10 months

Text

"ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵐⁱˡˡⁱᵒⁿ

ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵘʳⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢʰⁱⁿᵉ"

Mob Boss!John Wick x Mob Wife!Reader

Premise: It's the early 2000s, New York City. You're 27 years old, your husband, John Wick, is the head of the Slavic crime syndicate in New York. Your father married you off to him 6 years ago, to end a feud between your families. You have been John's wife for so long, but still feel like you barely know how he feels about you. He's quiet, comes home bloody and bruised, tries to keep you out of the business even though this life is all you've ever known. Will John reveal his true feelings for you when a rival family kidnaps you and holds you for ransom?

Tags/CW: stoic and suave!john, possessive!john, predator coded!john, prey coded!reader, kidnapping in, drug use, canon violence for john wick series as well as the sopranos, smut, more tags to come in later chapters.

A/N: This is going to be a 3 part limited series, but I would love to write drabbles/imagines/one-shots for these two in the future! This chapter is mainly an intro to you and John's relationship and some shameless smut, more drama in the next chapter!

Words: 3k

Gold. Your favorite color as a child, the same color as your daddy's pinky ring, you can remember peeking at it over the old wooden poker table. Your daddy laughed along with all the other men in the room, like a language you couldn't understand, the cigar smoke bitter, but sweet like vanilla if you inhaled enough. You can see all sorts of shiny objects on the poker table. You spot a silver glinting metal of a few of the men's guns politely placed on the table. The liquor they're drinking is glinting in crystal glasses, sloshing around as the men get rowdier and more incoherent. Your eyes always come back to that ring, however. Embellishments of diamond inlaid into that honey colored metal. The only thing you liked better than the glint of gold was the flash of a diamond. And daddy's ring held both. You knew even then, no more than 6 or 7 years old, that that ring would be yours one day. You were right. Your husband John, gave it to you as an anniversary gift last year after killing the men who killed your father. It's big enough on you to fit on your ring or middle finger. Your dear old dad was a lot of things, most not things that you loved. The only other thing he gave you in life that you were truly grateful for was arranging a truce between feuding families and setting you up to marry John. You had no idea who this man was, not to mention he was 20 years older than you, and was the head of New York City's Slavic crime syndicate. Along with his family being a family that rivaled yours for so long, the idea of marrying this man, the man they call 'Baba Yaga', was frightening. He was harsh when you met him. You only talked 3 times before you saw him at the altar. When you did meet him, he was well kept, incredibly so. His hair was dark, a bit long, slicked back perfectly. His face though, that was what really sent cold shivers up your spine. He looked like a wolf, his eyes were hungry for something, you couldn't even say what for sure, but you hoped your father wasn't shepherding you as a helpless sheep into John's pasture.

You were surprised when he took your hand softly, all the edges of his face jagged and sharp like a freshly cut jewel, and pressed his lips into your hand. It was from then on that you knew, despite everything else, that he would take care of you. There was something in his kiss and his steeled eyes that promised so from the get go.

From the moment you kissed him at the altar, you knew there was something those lips were hiding, however. They were so soft, but somewhere in your mind you couldn’t help but taste blood, coppery, metallic on those perfect lips. He looked at you then, having only seen you three times before, like he was looking at something as precious as gold. You felt coveted.

Despite this, as the honeymoon waned, and you two began to settle in as husband and wife, you thought perhaps, maybe this could work for you two. And it did, for all intents and purposes. Over the years, you two have fallen into a routine, not one you're displeased with per se. You know this is the life you were born into, being able to be a pristine trophy inside John's luxurious apartment never bothered you. He treated you well, always kept your needs met. But he was cold, distant, especially about work. You know the business, you've known it your whole life so you have no idea why he feels the need to keep you so in the dark most of the time. He barely speaks when he comes home bloodied up, weak, ready to collapse into the couch and sleep off the night finally. You dutifully help clean his wounds, silent, but those piercing eyes of his look into yours, saying more than those lips ever did.

Because of John's reluctance to allow you anywhere close to the business, you're surprised when he comes home one night and tells you that he'll be taking you to a party.

"A party?" Your glossy lips utter, turning around to face John from your seat at the vanity as he enters the bedroom with the news. Quite frankly, after being married for six years and rarely leaving this apartment, you're shocked. "You never take me to parties?"

"It's important you come tonight." John says simple, stepping closer to you, and slowly beginning to take off his dark suit, going down to suspenders and a crisp white button up. He isn’t giving anything away just yet.

"Finally decided to trade me in for someone newer?" You say, obviously joking even though you know it happens. These parties that men in the business go to, your father found six different wives at them after your mother, you know how women are treated in this world. You are seen as no more than a currency of status, and you know you’re not getting any younger.

John, however, gets really serious. His head jerks towards you, and he has that wolf look in his eye again. He bores you down with his dark, almost black eyes, his jaw set. The fear you feel from that look is one you never wish to again.

"Don't you ever joke about that." John finally says, but he doesn't soften. "I would never let anyone else have you."

If there's one thing you know for certain that John feels about you, it's possession. He always has been protective of you, to a fault most of the time. You feel as though he's set you in the world's most gilded cage most days, and at night he comes home and tears into your body like an animal. John was never soft. He wouldn't start to be in the bedroom. He would never push you away from cuddling after, however. He just didn't seek comfort from you the way you did him. But you were grateful he allowed you to have the comfort you craved from him, even if he was silent for most of it. If you were lucky, he may even pull an arm around you after a particularly aggressive fuck.

Not to say either that you didn’t enjoy how he took you in the bedroom, taking everything from you but your blood. And you knew he could take that too if he pleased. The aggression, the rawness of his body against yours, you had to admit, it turned you on. He never made your feel like you were lesser in the bedroom, in fact, he could give just as much as he could take. There were many times he had you propped up on the pillows, spread for him, and he lapping at you with a fervor you could hardly stand. He would tease you relentlessly if you let him, if you didn’t grab that dark hair of his and pull him into your aching pussy while telling him what you need. Begging him for what you need. His black eyes would look up at you from where he supplied pleasures that made your head spin, as if to say ‘You see this? I give you this, do not forget that I can give you such pleasures.’

And Lord, did you know, that he could do just that. Even now, as you see him undressing for the night, you can feel yourself begin to ache with want.

John can tell he has frightened you from how he has spoken, though. So he crosses what feels like the great expanse between you two, and he kneels in front of you, his hands on your thighs.

“Listen, I need you to understand that you never have to worry. About anything, with me.” His eyes are not exactly soft, but they are trying, which counts for something. “These eyes are focused on one woman and one woman only, do not ever doubt that, my love.”

You couldn’t help but feel compelled to believe him. Not to mention it was one of the rare times that he told you, or at least implied, his love for you. You did find yourself questioning often what John’s idea of ‘love’ was, however. You aren’t so certain your vision of love matches his, but at least it seems as if he is true to you. You begin to feel foolish for the cracks of doubt that have been plaguing you lately, you have no reason to believe John would cheat on you other than that the other mob wives have to deal with it constantly from their spouses. John is different, you must remember that.

You nod, a few tears coming to your eyes, and John’s large hands are there to wipe them away before you even have to wonder.

“Do not cry, solnyshko.” He says, his voice gruff, but understanding. “I do not wish for you to be hurt.”

“I hurt from being locked away here for so long…” You don’t know why you feel brave enough to say it right now, but you do. John’s eyes suddenly look unusually pained, and he glances away, blinking as if to gather himself.

“I know, I hope bringing you to this party will help. I just…” His hand on your cheek begins to tighten, not on you, but as if the muscles in it are desperate to grasp for something they know they must not. “I do not trust your safety for much of what I do, I…I cannot lose you.”

You don’t say anything, just look at him, on his knees for you right now, seemingly begging you to understand. It’s more than you’ve seen from him in the six years you’ve lived with him. It honestly causes a few more tears to fall, you’re not sure why seeing him this way does this to you. It means a lot to you.

“Okay, John. I will go this party with you, glady.” You say, accepting the idea, and John seems relieved.

“Good, now, no more tears,” He brushes the last few that have sullied your cheeks with his thumb. “Come, let’s go to bed my darling…”

As he stands from where he knelt before you, his strong hands take your arms in them, pulling you off of the plush vanity stool, and into him. He smells like smoke and gunpowder, mixed with that expensive cologne he always wears, the one that smells like pine trees and reminds you of the woods. He gently, for once, takes you into the large, black silk bed. Once you’re settled, it’s like he is ready to make a feast of your body. He’s so primal, animalistic and ready to be drunk on your scent. You let him take you, his teeth already into your neck, leaving indents, leaving his mark on you. He goes slow this time, really lets you feel how much he wants you. It doesn’t take him long to completely undress you, his hands are swift, and they work quickly to fling the little you had on to the bedroom floor.

You gasp when his hands decide to reach for your pussy next, and you hear him chuckle as he suckles on your breast, which are heavy with lust.

“You’re already so wet for me, my dear…” He whispers into your skin, the biting and nibbling beginning again as soon as the words leave his lips.

His hands work like magic, starting with teasing your poor pussy. He doesn’t go for your clit right away, no, he works slowly, but deliberately around it, testing your want and your wetness. He continues to lower his bites along your body, going down further and further, saving your swelling clit for his tongue to savor. He spreads your legs roughly, your breath catching as you’re so suddenly exposed. You feel the cold air of the room against the heat between your legs, and watch as John looks over your body with nothing but pure hunger and satisfaction in his eyes. You can’t believe you ever thought he would look for someone else when he looks at you like this nearly every night. How foolish…

Before your thoughts can be taken by things that simple do not matter in this moment, John is plunging his tongue into your cunt, hungry to taste you, a low growl escaping his lips and vibrating the tender flesh there. You moan out, your legs trying to close, but a firm hand guiding your thigh back down to the bed, holding it there. You continue to squirm, your hands finally finding purchase in his tossled dark hair, and you feel as if you have found an anchor in the deepest depths of an angry sea, ready to consume you if you do not hold onto something.

You breath hitches higher as he sucks on your hardening clit, pulling all of it to attention in his mouth and driving you mad. He continues to over stimulate you like this until you’re begging him, breathless and tossing your head back into the silk pillows, to stop, to let you go. Unfortunately, you are his prey, and he will have his way with you however he can, so while he releases your tender clit from his mouth for a moment, he is slipping two fingers inside you with a swiftness that causes you to see stars. You always forget how good he is at this, how could you ever underestimate his power to bring you to the edge like this?

John pumps his fingers inside you, working that spot that drives you crazy, and you can barely speak coherently. He loves making you such a mess for him, a wordless, breathless mess that tangles in John’s sheets.

John allows you to get closer and closer like this, and just when you’re screaming out his name, finding some words that convey how close you are, how you’re so ready, does he slip his fingers out from inside of you. The whine you let out from this surprises you, even makes you blush from embarrassment. You can’t believe how badly he makes you want him.

John lifts himself to his knees, freeing his cock from his tight pants, and you’re always taken back from how long and girthy it is. You know you can take his cock, you have many times before, but you know how much it stretches you out anyways. Your stomach is in knots from how full you wish to be of him. John can see the hunger in your eyes and wastes no time, grabbing your thighs and pulling you close in one fell manuever. He lines himself up with you, then wets his cock with your juices so he can slide into you easily. He always makes sure not to rut into you dry, he wants you soaking for him at all times during this.

John finally gives you what you want, your moan loud enough that you don’t doubt the neighbors know what this man does to you. His cock slips in so perfectly, going deeper and deeper, inch by inch, until he is at his limit inside you, your pussy completely full of him. You reach out to pull him close to you, but John stops you.

“I want to see you touch yourself for me, darling. I need to see your face when you cum on my cock…” He is so instructional, so demanding. You know you have to give him what he wants.

You stay laid on your back, while John keeps up on his knees, still so deep inside of you. You work your hand down to your clit, your other hand grasping at your own breast with desperation for something to hold onto. You can’t help it, you’re already losing yourself, your hands working and your moans giving a show for John. You know he loves when you really let yourself feel it, and you can feel yourself tighten around his cock as it pumps into you from how good you are feeling.

As John continues, you look up at him, your eyebrows drawn and your face so close to ecstasy, your body so tight and close to giving you the release you desperately need. You know John's close too, his face turning from one of someone so focused on their partner's pleasure, to someone who can barely keep their eyes open from how good it feels. The thought that somehow, right now, you have a small bit of power over him, turns you on. The fact that it's your pussy that makes him devolve into a mess of breaths and soft groans is so satisfying you can feel yourself start to cum. That's all it takes for John to join you, his cock twitching and full, going deeper into you with each long thrust as you both finish together. You can feel the rush of heat as he delivers his pleasure unto you.

John collapses beside you, spent. You move, your body sore where John held your legs open for so long. You find your way onto his sweaty chest, laying your head down onto his defined chest muscles. John wraps an arm around you, his hand gently, so slowly, petting your hair. You know he isn't the super affectionate type, but you also know that you've been together long enough that your husband cannot refuse you on much. Especially not when the two of you can relax into each other.

You softly close your eyes and count John's breath, trying to match yours to his. You aren't sure after what count it happened, but you fall asleep in John's arms.

#john wick x f!reader #john wick x reader #john wick mafia AU #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #my writing #keanu reeves

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moongreenlight · 7 months

Text

Insane reader my beloved. Literally my babygirl.

@katz-chow been ruminating on this one just for you <3

CW: Gore and violence

Reader who shows up late to their first meeting with the task force. Rolls up in their dark sedan with blacked-out windows and one too many dents on the front bumper wearing civvies instead of the uniform they were given and instructed to wear.

Reader who is a privately hired detective with a talent for interrogations. Not officially a member of the task force or the military because the tactics they use are far less than legal. More a secret weapon on retainer for when doing things by the book doesn’t do the trick.

Reader who gets on the good sides of the task force boys by being sugary sweet and barely hiding their true colors. Skins and bleaches the skulls of interrogations gone South and gives them to Ghost insisting they’re better than the costume store shit he’s got on now.

Gifts Price expensive cigars tucked between the fingers of a severed hand. Drops them off in large pink boxes with delicate ribbons and giggles when he asks a thousand questions about why and how and what the fuck he was supposed to do with this.

Tosses Gaz new knives on the field when they’ve landed a kill or just wrenched them out of someone’s stomach. They make a game out of chucking the gore-slicked blades at one another’s heads to see if they can dodge in time.

Starts playing dodgeball with Soap where they toss his less-stable bombs and unpinned grenades back and forth. Only stops after they’ve accidentally blown up the camp two missions in a row. (Also heavily rumored they have tramp stamps of each other’s names because they’re both too stubborn to back down from a dare but that’s just for vibes)

Reader who gets flown out on specialty missions where a hostage really refuses to talk and takes matters into their own hands. Sometimes hopping on radio when they’re in transit and requesting the force pulls extra men so they can play a live game of operation. They’ve been watching videos on the dark web and the first two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy from their military issued laptop so it’s like an 80% chance all the hostages live.

Reader who stops being allowed to train rookies because the first and only faux-deployment they led they told the group they ran out of rations three days in to a two week long training and they had to play rock-paper-scissors to create a bracket of people to eat first. The mission gets called early when Price gets word that there was actually a field amputation done. Reader doesn’t even apologize, just laughs their way through a barely reasonable explanation. I didn’t think they’d actually do it.

Reader who begs the boys to let them play kill, kiss, marry, kill in the middle of a boring interrogation and when they get told no or to focus on the task at hand, they throw such a fit that they end up sending a screwdriver through the eye of the person they’re supposed to be interrogating.

Reader who brings their own kit to interrogations. Lugs around pincers, rusted blades, rotary bone saws, and dull axes in a flamingo pink toolbox. Sets it up on a small table in front of the hostage and unboxes it like an influencer showing off PR.

Reader who also stops being able to run conditioning and drills with rookies because they pitted the privates against one another during a sparring session. Saying something about whoever could sheath a blade in the other first got a bonus check before tossing a few knives on the mat and walking away. Gaz had to run over and tell them you weren’t serious when he saw blood.

Reader who insists on being able to puppeteer the decapitated head of an enemy grunt they took down and reciting a few lines of Shakespeare to the boys. Dragging the mission out because they know as well as the boys do that everyone is on their timeline.

Reader who dances around hostages that have been zip tied to chairs and beat within an inch of their life. Singsonging threats and having the boys drag the limp bodies of their chain of command across the floor.

Reader who pouts when their victims pass out during questioning after a few of their fingers have been chopped off with a butcher’s knife. Huffs like they’re being put through a massive inconvenience and fishes smelling salts out of their toolkit to wake the poor sap back up.

#gn!reader but soooooooooo babygirl ykwim?#cod mw2 #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble

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hunterbunter3000 · 1 year

Note

Sweetheart buys price his favorite cigars for his birthday, they're wicked expensive and man's about hit the floor when she pulls out the box.

STOP THAT'S SO CUUTEEEE

(Sorry this took forever! 😭😭😭 I hope you enjoy it!)

Especially when Price never told her which cigars he liked, he's just so happy and honored that he got them from Sweetheart.

LIL SCENARIO I CONJURED.:

141 Sweetheart, poking her head through Price's office door: Psst-

(Price already knowing who it is, he smiles to himself)

141 Sweetheart, whispering louder: PSSSTT-- CAP

Price, chuckling: Yes, Sweetheart?

141 Sweetheart: Permission to come in?

Price: Permission granted.

141 Sweetheart, squealing as she busts through the door: I gotchu somethin'!

Price with wide eyes: Really?

(He looks over to the giant pile of gifts on his desk and the floor)

Price: ...You and the others already got me everything under the sun.

141 Sweetheart, snickers: Well yeah, but all that was a team effort! This is actually from me.

(Price puts down his pen and sees the pink wrapped box in her hands)

Price, holding the gift: What is it?

141 Sweetheart: Open it first!

(Price smiles, trying his best to save the wrap. His eyes goes wide, seeing the glass window box filled with pristine and long cigars)

141 Sweetheart: Surprise!

Price, speechless: How did you--

141 Sweetheart: You remember when we all went to that town in Ireland and Soap n' Horangi got drunk and Soap threw up in front of that Cigar Shop?

Price: Yeah?

141 Sweetheart: And then while I was patting Soap's back, I saw you look in the window at these--

141 Sweetheart: Sooooo I remembered what the place was called, rang up the lil' number, and had it shipped! Thank God it came before your birthday.

(She taps them repeatedly with her nail)

141 Sweetheart: These babies right here, and it looked like you really wanted them! But the shop was closed and we went home the next day.

Price, impressed: No wonder you were so secretive, eh?

Price: How much did this cost--

141 Sweetheart: That, and keeping the party a secret too.

(Price smiles, then slowly vanishes when reality sets in)

141 Sweetheart: Shh.

Price, concerned: Sweetheart, how much--

Sweetheart, hugs his side: Happy birthday, ya old British pirate!

141 Sweetheart: UUUUAAAAADUDUDUDDUDAAAT AHT AHT EH- shut ya face and enjoy your cigars. Don't worry about the cost, it's a gift from me to you. Kay?

(Price sighs, but he nods anyway)

Price, chuckling: Thank you, love.

(I love them your honor)

#cod price #price x reader #black fem reader #john price x reader #modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warefare ii #modern warfare headcanons #modern warfare incorrect quotes #cod incorrect quotes #black reader #black!reader #x female reader #x reader #black!fem!reader #cod oc #john price #price mw2 #141 sweetheart #hunter's ask lounge ☕️

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abitohoney · 8 months

Text

Hustle - CH1: Proposition

AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, Ran & Reader, Established Relationship, assassin reader, Fluff, Smut, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, horny idiots in love, Dom/sub, Dom Sevika, sub Reader, Humor, Banter, Choking, Spanking, Teasing, Light Sadism, Begging, Strap-Ons, Lesbian Sex, Aftercare, Gambling, Smoking, lack of understanding card games, totally winging this shit, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling, reader is not the most graceful creature, but Sevika adores reader all the more for it, Jealousy, Marking, Orgasm Delay, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Hurt/Comfort, a Yordle OC that we will likely never see again but I had entirely too much fun writing, 69 (Sex Position)

Word Count: 7.9k

Summary: Looking to make your nights with Sevika a bit more… exciting, you suggest making use of your shared talent for playing cards. Together, the two of you take the Undercity, and even Topside, by storm. And what’s more exciting than the thrill of winning, or watching your opponents whine and gripe in defeat, or earning far more coin than the two of you could possibly spend? The release of pent-up sexual desire that seems to come with each and every win, that’s what.

AN: This is already in process over on AO3.

Sevika sat at the small table in your shared room, removing the last screw that held the protective plate over her metal shoulder. A thick cigar- one of the fancy ones you’d gifted her a while back- hung from the corner of her mouth. She was apparently too focused on her arm to realize it had gone out some time ago.

You, however, noticed when you approached her, two drinks in hand and clad in only your underwear and one of her old shirts. After placing one glass near her, and the other at the opposite end by your chair, you grabbed her lighter from the table.

“Light?” you offered, opening the lighter with a swift flick of your wrist.

Sevika glanced down her nose at her barely smoldering cigar before bringing the end into the dancing flame. After taking one long drag, her gray eyes met yours. Tendrils of smoke seeped from the corners of her mouth when her lips curled into a crooked grin.

That smirk of hers was the closest thing you’d get to a thank you, but it was good enough for you. You gave her your own lopsided grin in return before bending down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

Moving to the chair opposite her, you took a seat and started working on sharpening your pile of daggers strewn about the table.

That had become somewhat of a weekly ritual for the two of you. An unspoken one, where once a week the two of you would sit at your small, quaint table littered with parts, tools, and cleaning supplies for Sevika’s arm, as well as sharpening tools and cleaning cloths for your daggers. You’d both have a good drink. She’d have one of her usual cigarillos, or occasionally, like tonight, she’d treat herself to a fancy imported cigar. A sign that she’d had a particularly bad day.

“Rough day?” you asked and carefully wiped one of your daggers clean before setting it aside to grab the next.

“Yeah,” she replied gruffly, focus returned to her arm while she loosened something at the elbow.

Your gaze fell to her bicep from where it peeked out from beneath her leather sleeve, watching almost in a trance as it flexed with her movements.

Good god, she’s so fucking buff.

“Jinx?” you asked, knowing that more often than not the blue-haired girl was the cause of Sevika’s bad days. The bane of her existence really. You’d met the girl a few times over your years under Silco’s employ, and although she was quite the little spitfire, unpredictable even, she seemed like a genuinely sweet kid. Everyone in the Undercity had their demons, so why Jinx’s seemed to bother Sevika so much more, you weren’t exactly sure, but you weren’t about to ask. Best not to poke the bear.

“Yeah.”

Realizing she was clearly not interested in divulging any details, you returned to your daggers in silence, occasionally sipping your drink or stealing a glance at Sevika working on her arm.

Once every dagger was finely sharpened and shined, you turned your full attention to Sevika. Her arm at some point had ended up in far more pieces on the table than usual. Must have been a deep clean day, or something got really fucked up. A quick glance at Sevika’s face confirmed the latter.

Her dark brows sat in a deep v-shaped line and her lips pulled into a tight frown. She was clearly not happy. Even less so than usual.

Dragging your chair over to her side, you ignored the sharp look she gave you at the obnoxious sound of it scraping along the floor, echoing through the otherwise quiet room. “What’s wrong?” you asked and leaned closer to look over all the parts.

“Something jammed,” she grumbled and removed her cigar to throw back the last of her drink.

Picking up her metal hand, which although disconnected from her wrist, was still entirely assembled, you turned it over several times to inspect the construction. Even after all the time you’ve been close to Sevika, you still found yourself fascinated with all the intricacies of her mechanical arm. So many moving parts, powered primarily by something that was also used as a drug. Intricate joints that functioned much like the real thing, but better. More precision, more strength, more flexibility. But the moment something malfunctioned, like now, it became almost useless. So of course you understood her frustration. Not only being left without a usable arm, but also being left with the hassle of trying to fix the damn thing.

As you took what would be the index finger between your own fingers and moved the joints, you could feel more resistance than usual. Turning it so the palm faced up, you stretched and bent the joints opposite their intended direction. There was definitely a build-up of… something. Gunk of some kind. No wonder shit was jammed. Probably full of dried blood, or human flesh. Who knows how many necks she broke or guts she impaled since her arm got a good cleaning.

“What are you smiling about?”

Not even realizing you were smiling, your eyes shot up to Sevika’s scowling face in confusion. “What? Oh. Just thinking about how many idiots you must have slaughtered since you last gave this a proper cleaning. There’s all sorts of shit stuck in the joints. Of course you’re having issues.”

“Well maybe if you did your job and took them out with your little knives, I wouldn’t have to use my hand so much,” she sneered, mouth twitching at the corner. She was clearly proud of her snarky comeback.

Ass.

Smile still in place, but now directed at Sevika, you shot back your own snarky retort, “Well maybe if you didn’t fucking announce our presence with your big ass feet stomping around, I could have used my daggers.”

Oh, that got her truly smirking. A challenge. A verbal challenge. Something the two of you have always taken part in, but ever since becoming an... item, it had become downright exhilarating. You both enjoyed the challenge the other provided. Equal wit, snark, and speed. Not to mention it almost always ended with the two of you engaging in other fun activities.

“I don’t need that hand to choke you.”

“I don’t need to ask if you’re bluffing. All talk.” You smiled at her confidently. At least at first.

Sevika’s chair scraped across the floor when she stood suddenly. Your eyes widened and you jumped in your chair, not really expecting her to do anything. Not when her arm was half disassembled, tubes and wires dangling loose and exposed. You quickly schooled your expression, back to that cocky smile to match hers. She wouldn’t really follow through. Tilting your head back, you stared up at her towering form as she stood close enough for her feet to disappear beneath your chair.

“I don’t need to tell you how very wrong you are,” she sneered, her smile curling into a wicked grin. Without breaking her eye contact with you, she removed her cigar from between her teeth and set it in the ashtray you’d made her months ago. Her prized possession. And when she bent down, you could feel your smile start to falter, confidence waning. “I’ll show you,” she said so quietly you almost missed it.

Fuck. She is going to-

And then her hand was on your throat, squeezing with just enough pressure to have you feeling the strain in your airway. But when the air in your lungs escaped through your parted lips, it was not in the form of a complaint, a cry, or a whine. No, it was a deep, quiet moan. Her name.

“Sevika…”

It’s yet another unspoken… dynamic the two of you had developed from the very beginning of your relationship. Despite you offering her a good verbal fight, and sometimes even physical, it always ended with you submitting to her. Completely willing. Because it would always benefit you both. She gets that ego of hers stroked real nice. A good power trip. You swear it almost makes her high. And you get that euphoric feeling of losing control to someone you trust deeply. Someone you know can give you what you want. What you need. She doesn’t even need to ask. She knows. She’ll only ask to make you say it. To watch you squirm while you try to find the words- your voice- to beg her to give you all your filthy desires.

“What do you want?” she husked, and you could smell the intoxicating mix of cigar spices and high-end whiskey on her breath when she leaned in closer.

“You,” you breathed, your desperate eyes pleading with her wild ones. Your hands- one still holding her metal hand, the other resting on your thigh- clenched, fighting urges. But not because you wanted to remove her hand, or fight back. You wanted to put your hands on her. Touch her. Pull her closer. But you knew you couldn't. Not yet.

“What do you want from me,” she sneered, thick fingers squeezing just a little tighter around your neck.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, but when you saw her arch a brow, you knew what else she wanted to hear. “Please, Sevika.”

Her smirk softened, and as she brought her face even closer, your eyes fluttered shut. The moment those full lips of hers pressed against your own, you felt yourself melting into your chair. The way she kissed you, so teasingly soft while she squeezed your throat in her hand- a hand that could easily snap your neck- left your head spinning. She was powerful enough to destroy you without using so much as even half of that power, yet she always gave you pleasure instead.

Moaning against her lips, you finally dropped her metal hand in favor of placing both your hands on the exposed skin at her hips and waist. She allowed it, but not without the cost of her teasing you. Lips parted, you tried to invite her tongue in, but she chose to run that delightful muscle of hers across your upper lip instead. And when you tried to lean in and take it yourself, her fingers wrapped blissfully tighter around you, leaving you seeing stars.

Without realizing it, your nails dug into the skin just above Sevika’s hips, causing her to break away and hiss at you. Gazing up at her through half-lidded eyes, you whispered a soft, “Sorry,” and relaxed your fingers, soothingly running your fingertips over the little crescent moon marks you’d left behind.

“I need to finish fixing my arm before I fuck you,” she husked, slowly loosening her grip on your throat. “Think you can be patient for me?”

No.

You nodded, whimpering when she released you and went back to her seat. Slowly turning back to the table, you picked her metal hand back up, but your mind was too clouded by lust to really focus. Glancing at Sevika from the corner of your eyes, you spotted her smirking at you. Apparently amused by how she got you so fucking riled up only to leave you sitting there stewing in your own… juices.

So fucking mean, but so fucking hot.

It was a deadly combo that kept you on your toes, and kept you coming back for more. Because in the end, with patience, you always got what you wanted. What you both wanted.

Once your head was mostly clear, you grabbed one of your smaller, sharper daggers and started prying out some of the crap stuck in the joints of her prosthetic hand. Disgusting to most, it was- in all honesty- a very satisfying process for you. The little bits of dried bloody flesh and even bone left you itching to get back to your job. Being Silco’s number one assassin had been rewarding beyond anything else you could have done to get by in the Undercity. You’d always had a knack for stealth, speed, and agility. Not to mention a fascination with knives and daggers, or ‘ pointy objects’ as Sevika so lovingly called them. But that feeling of euphoria you got the first time you slid a blade along someone’s skin, watching the blood trickle then pour from the wound. It was your calling. A sick thing to take pleasure in perhaps, but with the rest of Silco’s crew, you fit right in. Sevika included. You’d seen her get that same wild gleam in her eye. That same wicked smile while she strangled her foe or beat the everliving snot out of them.

Peering over at Sevika, you found her scowl was back in place. Seemed that little intermission was not enough for her either.

“Hey, I was thinking,” you started as you continued to meticulously clean one of the metal fingers, “What if you and I teamed up at cards and wiped this whole damned city clean? I mean, you and I are two of the best, if not the best, players down here. If we teamed up, we’d be unstoppable.”

When Sevika didn’t offer a reply, you turned your attention to her. Cigar back between her teeth, she simply raised a single brow, and you weren’t sure if that was in intrigue or disbelief. “What? It could be fun. Get ourselves some good coin while we’re at it.”

Removing her cigar. She tapped it against the ashtray. With an amused grin, she finally replied, smoke billowing from her mouth while she spoke, “Alright, princess, I’ll admit that sounds like a good idea.”

“A great idea,” you corrected her. “If we set up a tournament, we could end up with enough coin to buy some nice things.”

“Like what?” she scoffed, “More pointy objects?”

You narrowed your eyes at her little jab, gaze dropping to her cigar as you retorted, “Or more fancy cancer sticks.” Before she could throw another retort your way, you added, “But I was thinking more like an improved chem tech arm, so you don’t have to fuck around with maintenance so much. Or you could just pay someone else to do it.” Reaching across the table, you grabbed a cloth and a bottle of solvent. Pouring a generous amount into the cloth, you started wiping down one of the metal digits. “Just think about it?”

“How soon?”

Your gaze shot back up to Sevika. “Really?”

She said nothing, just kept her gaze on you and waited for your answer.

You made no effort to hide the wide smile that put on your face. And though she shook her head in mock disgust, you saw how her own lips pulled up at one corner. “I bet with Ran’s help I could get a tournament set up by this weekend. So you’re game?”

“As long as Ran is involved to make sure you don’t screw it up.”

You ignored her attempt to bait you into another battle of wits, too thrilled that she’d agreed to your idea. Instead, you returned to your task in silence, save for the excited tapping of your foot. That weekend couldn’t come soon enough.

Too caught up in your meticulous cleaning of Sevika’s metal hand, not to mention thinking about how the two of you were going to clean up a bunch of unsuspecting idiots, you hadn’t realized Sevika had finished her own work some time ago. After giving the hand one final wipe down with a clean cloth, you turned to find her leaning back in her chair just watching you while she smoked. “What?” you asked, cheeks flushing under her heated gaze.

Setting the remainder of her cigar in the ashtray, she patted her thigh. “Help me put it back on.”

Suspicious of her intentions with how… oddly she was looking at you, you hesitantly stood from your chair to take a seat across her lap. As you reached across the table to grab the hand, you felt her wrap her human arm around your waist, resting her hand on your thigh. And if that hadn’t been distracting enough while you tried to hook up the tubes and wires of her prosthetic, the feeling of her intense gaze on you sure as hell was.

With everything reconnected, you gave the wrist one final twist to lock the hand back in place. Carefully, you turned it over in your hand, ensuring everything was moving properly. Bending each finger, you could tell the cleaning had definitely made a difference. Satisfied with your work, you lined her hand up with yours, marveling at the contrasting size and material. Bringing it to your face, you placed a kiss on the top of one of the plates that covered the back of it. Releasing her hand, you glanced up at Sevika to find her still staring at you with that odd expression. It was as if she was in disbelief. You searched her eyes for a sign of what she was thinking. And god damn you swore those gray eyes of hers were somehow a softer shade.

“Sevika? Is something wrong?” you asked quietly.

Her gaze fell to her metal hand as she lifted it. She moved each joint, one at a time while she spoke softly, her voice so raspy you swore there was something she was trying to hold back. “I’ve told you this before, but I’ll say it again. You’re too good to me.”

Oh Fuck. That’s so sweet.

She had, in fact, said that before. And your heart both swelled and broke all the same last time. “Sevika,” you whispered breathlessly. You weren’t even sure how to respond to that. Tell her she’s an idiot for thinking she doesn’t deserve your affection and care even after all this time? Tell her everyone deserves someone to treat them right? But you knew neither would help someone like her see the truth. So instead of telling her with words, you decided to show her using her own language. Action. Sliding a hand along her scarred cheek, you pressed your fingers against the back of her neck and slowly guided her lips to yours.

She hesitantly returned the kiss, but it was nothing like her usual more fervent and dominating ones. The kiss was much sweeter, softer, and surprisingly tender.

Her arm around your waist pulled you closer while her metal hand gently grasped your thigh. That delightfully soft nose of hers glided along the side of your own and over your cheek when she cocked her head and pulled you even closer, pressing her lips further into yours.

Though the kiss was far less wild than usual, it still left you equally, if not more, breathless when she pulled away. Resting your forehead against hers, you gazed into beautiful pools of gray. Slowly, that lopsided grin of hers started to reappear.

“Should we head to bed?” you asked softly.

She gave your thigh a gentle squeeze before releasing her hold on you.

The moment you stood up, you no more than turned to head for the bed when you felt a sharp slap to your bottom.

“Hey!” you yelped, spinning on your heel to scowl down- or rather up- at Sevika as she stood from her seat.

“Don’t get too used to that soft shit,” she sneered and stepped closer, toe-to-toe with you.

A challenge?

“Of course,” you replied with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “Can’t ruin that tough image of yours.”

And then she was in your space, chest pressing into yours and causing you to take a step away to keep from toppling backward. You furrowed your brows while you peered up at her.

What’s she playing at?

She took another step into your space, a smug smile painting her face.

You took another step away, the backs of your knees connecting with the edge of the bed.

“Now that I’ve got my hand back…” Sevika drawled and lifted her metal hand to inspect it as the gears near her wrist spun and whirred.

You should have taken that as your warning sign, but you were too focused on trying to figure out what she had planned to do with you. A shrill yelp pulled from your throat when the sharp blade sprung from her arm, slicing through the air dangerously close to the side of your face. With nowhere else to go, you fell onto your rear on the edge of the mattress.

Her dark chuckle made your brows draw together.

“Damnit Sevika stop startling me with that fucking thing!” you snarled and shot her a nasty glare.

“Thought you liked pointy objects,” she jeered, her blade retracting back into her arm with a resounding swish.

“ My pointy objects.”

“Hmm. They are pretty nice,” she teased, eyes blatantly honed in on your tits.

Despite your best effort to refrain, you couldn’t help but grin at that lovely combination of joke and compliment.

Sevika stepped forward again, her knees urging you to spread your legs and allow her between them.

Then she slowly leaned over you, forcing you to scoot back on the bed.

“Sevika…” you sighed, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I told you, I’ve got my hand back now…” she sneered, hands planted against the mattress on either side of your hips.

“Now what?” you asked.

Moving farther away, you fell back onto your forearms as she crawled onto the bed and up your body, her strong arms on either side of your chest. Then you recalled what she’d said to you earlier when things were starting to heat up.

‘I need to finish fixing my arm before I fuck you.’

Oh.

Her hands moved to either side of your shoulders and you let your back fall completely against the bed. You beamed up at her while she smiled down at you wolfishly.

Her eyes dropped to your mouth. "That fucking dopey smile."

"You know you always say that, but then you're just smiling at me. Clearly you love it," you pointed out.

Sevika scoffed, but that smirk remained on her face. "It's ridiculous."

"And cute," you added.

"Ridiculous."

"Ridiculously cute. And it's only for you," you said sweetly.

"Damn right."

You raised a brow. "A bit possessive aren't we?"

"Just know what's mine." Her lips curled higher.

Fucking cocky.

But two can play that game.

"Same," you replied with a crooked grin before grabbing Sevika by her leather vest and pulling her down for a kiss.

She willingly kissed you back, but not without the cost of taking your bottom lip between her teeth and tugging- hard. She chuckled at your whine of protest, lips curling against yours before she kissed away the stinging sensation.

Your game wasn’t over yet though.

Sevika pulled back from the kiss, brows furrowed as she peered down at your smiling face. “What's so funny?"

"This," You replied just before flipping her onto her back. You swiftly moved to straddle her waist and pin her wrists above her head.

She simply smirked up at you with a raised brow.

You both knew she could break free with very little effort, but you both tested each other. You tested how far she'd let your hand go as it traveled down her neck toward her chest. She tested just how brave you'd actually be.

The moment your hand rested over a breast she gave you a threatening look.

"Don't you do it," she growled.

"Don't do what?" You asked with feigned innocence.

"You know what."

"Oh, you mean this?" You gave her breast a hard squeeze, twisting her nipple through the thick fabric of her top. That got you the desired effect, or rather effects. The immediate; a groan and strained face of pleasure, and the delayed; you were not only thrown off her, but also lying face down with your ass held up high by her thigh wedged between both of yours. Before you could even think to react, your wrists were scooped up by her metal hand and held together behind your back.

"You're gonna pay for that princess," she sneered.

You opened your mouth to retort, only for a startled yelp to escape when her flesh hand contacted your asscheek with a loud SMACK!

"Learn your lesson?" she asked, rubbing her hand soothingly over your tingling skin.

“No.”

SMACK!

Another sharp cry ripped from your throat.

"How about now?" she sneered, hand running delightful circles over your other abused asscheek.

"I think- I think you're gonna have to drill it into me,” you managed to get out between soft moans.

Janna, you’re so fucking clever.

"Hate to admit it princess, but I think you're right," she husked and continued to rub your bottom, her thumb inching closer to the inside of your thigh and ghosting over your slit through your panties. "Looks like you're nice and ready for it too."

Your cheeks burned. You knew you were already dripping from what little attention she’d already given you. She always had that effect on you.

She gave your ass one more pat before crawling off the bed and leaving you disappointed at the loss of contact. "Now, how big?" She asked as she strode to the dresser where she kept all the harnesses and attachments.

You rolled onto your side to watch her, resting your head on your hand, elbow propped on the mattress.

"So I was thinking," you started while she rummaged through the drawer, "we should come up with signals to communicate with each other during the tournament."

You tilted your head as you continued to speak, trying to catch a glimpse of which toy Sevika had selected while she slipped on the harness.

"I could come up with a series of subtle hand gestures, ways we hold our cards or drinks, or how we blow the smoke from our cigarillos. You know, something that looks unsuspecting."

"Gonna play dirty, huh?" Sevika sneered as she lubed up the faux cock.

With her back to you, you still couldn't quite make out which one she'd put on. Your curiosity- the anticipation- had your body temperature rising by the second, but you still tried to keep your cool. "Damn right. Those fools won't know what hit 'em. You and I are gonna empty the pockets of every poor sucker down here."

Sevika turned to face you, revealing a strap you hadn’t seen before. Not particularly girthy, but long, bright purple, and with a notable curve.

Oh boy. What the hell is that for?

As she stalked toward the bed, you met her gaze– her very lust-filled gaze. “Why- Why are you looking at me like that?” you stammered and moved to lean back on your forearms, eyes nervously following Sevika as she stalked toward you.

She crawled onto the bed, metal hand slowly dragging up the side of one of your legs. “Cause I want to fuck you. Now shut your mouth or I'll give you something to keep it busy."

"You say that like it's supposed to be a threat. Maybe I want you to keep my mouth busy. Ever think about that?" you retorted with a crooked grin, though it came out much less snarky and confident than you’d intended, your anxiousness getting the better of you.

Her hand froze at your thigh. A single brow arched. Then she sat up on her knees and started to undo her harness.

"Wait!"

She paused, smirking. "Thought this was what you wanted."

"Fuck me first.”

…

“Please," you quickly added.

She said nothing, but bent back down to resume dragging her metal hand up along your leg until she reached your panties. She slipped a sharp claw beneath the waistband, then locked eyes with you and gave you the most evil-looking toothy grin.

“Don’t you do it,” you threatened, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t do what?” she mocked.

“I just bought thOSE!” your words turned into a sharp yelp the moment Sevika ripped your underwear clear off your body. “Fucking hell Sevika! You can’t just keep ripping all my clothes!”

“I’ll buy you more.”

Though she spoke those words with a stoic tone, you could see her mirth plain as day with the damn smirk she wore.

“You’ll just buy something impractical,” you pouted.

“And I’ll rip those off too,” she sneered, backing down the bed to stand on the floor between your dangling legs.

You raised your brows, confused as to why she left the bed. Was she going to fuck you or not?

She leaned over, flesh and metal fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to grasp your hips. Then, without warning, she yanked your body down across the mattress, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed, your shirt up and over your chest when it caught on the sheets, and yet another startled yelp from your throat.

Your mouth hung open to fire another chastising remark, only for it to die in your throat when her hands started slowly gliding up your stomach towards your now fully exposed chest.

“Got something to say, princess?” she husked as she cupped each breast.

You knew she was goading you. Trying to get you to speak so she could provide enough stimulation to make you fumble your words again. So instead you said nothing, just watched her with narrowed eyes. But not even that look stood a chance the moment she started to squeeze and knead your supple flesh.

“Hm. Didn’t think so,” she taunted.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to stifle the moan that you felt building up. Once she added your nipples to her play, you had officially lost the game.

Your eyes fluttered shut, lips parting and releasing a soft moan when she rolled metal and flesh fingers across your hardened peaks.

“So easy to shut you up,” she continued to tease. She leaned over your chest, ghosting her lips along the swell of a breast.

The urge to bite back was completely overrun by the natural desire to just submit to her. To just let her take care of you. Like she always did.

“Just a simple touch,” she continued, accenting her words with a drag of those luscious lips right over a nipple.

You keened, arching towards her mouth, silently begging her to wrap her lips around your flesh. But she wouldn’t do that. Not yet. She had to tease you more. Break you down. Leave you begging.

“S-Sevika,” you whined when she merely slid her mouth to the other breast– not nearly enough stimulation. And good god you craved her. You could already feel the ache building in your lower half– a tight heat that radiated from your core straight down through your legs.

“Yea, baby?” she murmured against the swell of your breast. She introduced her tongue into the mix, dragging just the tip around your areola while her hands continued to explore.

“More, please,” you pleaded. You carded your hands through her hair, but you didn’t dare pull her head closer, despite the burning desire to do so.

“More what?” Her tongue left a long, wet trail from the bottom side of one breast clear across the other.

“Your mouth,” you sighed.

“Hmm,” she hummed against the side of your breast, the vibrations only adding to the torment of her light touches. “What do you want me to do with it?” she asked before flicking her tongue across a nipple.

Your fingers and toes curled and you sucked in a sharp breath. “Suck,” you whispered as you released that breath.

Another reverberating hum. “Like this?”

Those delightfully soft, warm, wet lips wrapped around a nipple and sucked, tongue teasing over the tip.

“Fuck, yes,” you groaned. Your back arched again, pressing your chest closer to her mouth.

“Mmm. And what about this?” she purred. Without further warning she bit down on that sensitive nub, pulling a sharp cry from you only for it to dissolve into a soft moan as she soothed it with her tongue.

The sound of her low, throaty laugh only made your body ache for her more. Before you could beg for her to continue, her mouth started to move up your chest, sucking and biting every inch of skin along the way. Her metal hand soon joined the climb, gliding up the other side of your chest while her human hand descended down your stomach.

Her tongue dipped and trailed up along your collarbone while her metal hand crept up the column of your throat. With her flesh hand tightly gripping your waist, she pressed her metal thumb against your chin, forcing you to expose more of your neck.

Your mind was already reeling from all the sensations, but then you felt the cold, wet tip of her faux cock tease over your clit. Her teeth sank into the flesh of your neck, her nails into the soft fat at your waist. There was no hope for holding back your desperate mewls, her name spilling like honey from your lips.

“Sevika.”

You needed her. You needed her so bad.

“Sevika, fuck me. Please.”

The deep, sinister chuckle that you felt just as much as you heard contrasted against how she ran the side of her nose gently along your cheek and nose.

“So desperate for my cock, hm?” she taunted, lips brushing over yours as she spoke.

You swallowed hard, throat bobbing. Even with your eyes still closed, you could feel the heat of her eyes on you, the arrogant curl of her lips just barely pressed to yours.

“Yes,” you breathed and it took every ounce of willpower to remain still. To not pull her lips to yours and take the kiss you so desperately wanted. To not just thrust towards that teasing silicone toy and grind against it. Your fingers curled against her scalp, your toes against the sheets hanging off the edge of the bed.

Patience.

You needed to be patient. The reward she’d give you would be so very worth it.

She slid her thumb from your chin to the pulse point at your neck, teasing over it several times before finally pressing, ever-so-lightly.

Your lips parted in a breathless gasp, body thrumming in bliss. Your subsequent moan became muffled, drowned out by her mouth hungrily devouring yours. Her tongue delved in, swiping along yours as if fighting for dominance. But there was no battle. There was nothing you could do. You were too lost in that delirium she always brought on when she had her hands on your neck, carefully- precisely- applying pressure.

You were too far gone to even realize the hand at your waist had left to move the tip of the strap between your wet folds, lining it up at your entrance.

And then came the abrupt, glorious stretch of your walls as she buried the faux cock clear to the hilt with one powerful thrust. Your cry of pleasure was muffled by her mouth over yours. You sank your nails into her scalp, earning a threatening growl from her that barely registered through the cloud of pleasure overtaking your mind.

She stood upright, your hands sliding off her head and collapsing against the bed at your sides. You gazed up at her through half-lidded eyes, slowly starting to come back to your senses with your airway fully open again.

God you wanted her hand back there.

“Sevika,” you whined, but you were too ashamed to admit what you wanted. She knew anyway, and yet she’d still make you say it.

“Yeah baby?” she teased. She slipped her hands beneath your thighs, lifting them until your heels rested on the edge of the bed, opening you nice and wide for her. Both her hands firmly grasped your waist and she slowly slid back out, her eyes glued between your legs and reveling at the sight of the silicone toy sliding between your wet folds.

You lost the ability to articulate your request as you watched her move her human hand over your lower stomach and press– hard. Her dark lips curled into a crooked smile, eyes glinting in sick satisfaction while she slowly pushed the strap back inside.

“Fuck, baby,” she breathed.

There was no telling if that was truly for your ears. She looked utterly lost in watching- feeling- her sink deeper inside you.

Your fingers curled against the sheets, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as the added pressure of that wicked curve and press of her hand left an intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure.

She pulled back out again, grabbing one of your wrists and placing your hand flat against your stomach. With her hand encasing yours she pressed down hard, her gaze still locked between your spread legs. Then, torturously slow, she pushed back inside once again.

“You feel that?” she husked. “My cock dragging along your insides? That’s good, isn’t it?”

You could, in fact, feel the tip of the faux cock dragging beneath your hand. That, however, was not what had you reeling with pleasure and arousal. No, it was her expression. She looked utterly enraptured by it. It made your body tremble, visibly shudder against the sheets.

“It’s…” You trailed off, groaning when she bottomed out, her thighs pressing against the backs of yours. “Sevika,” you mewled. Even when you whimpered her name, she couldn’t break away from that state. Instead, she let your hand slip free to grip the sheets again and placed her hand back on your stomach.

She set a slow rhythm, much unlike her typical rough and unhinged pace, more focused on enjoying the show of it than pleasing you, at least until she heard your soft plea.

“Sevika, please,” you forced out between clenched teeth. The pressure against your insides was damn near excruciating. It felt as if you were teetering on the edge of bliss. You needed just a little more.

Sevika’s heavy-lidded gaze drifted up to your face. Though her smirk remained, her gray eyes softened at the sight of your distress. “What do you need, baby?”

“I- I need-” you struggled to speak, distracted by another gradual roll of her hips.

“Hm?”

You felt her press her thumb against the tip of the strap through your stomach and had you been in your right mind you would have vocally accused her of attempting to impede your ability to speak.

“Fuck,” you cursed, closing your eyes shut tight. Her sinister chuckle echoed in your head. She had definitely been fucking with you.

Deep breath in.

“I need more,” you huffed with the release of that breath.

“More what?”

Fucking sadistic cunt.

She knew how much you hated saying the specifics out loud. How fucking hard it was when she was working you up. But she also knew you loved it.

You loved everything about the damn woman smirking down at you while she waited for your answer.

“Fuck me faster,” you groaned, another drag along that sweet spot leaving you seeing stars.

“Forget your manners, princess?”

You peered up at her through narrowed eyes. Whatever malice you had behind that look was lost in how your face contorted in pleasure.

“ Please fuck me faster.”

With a satisfied chuckle, she quickened her pace.

While her hand remained pressed against your stomach, her thumb slid down to tease across your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your throat.

Despite your effort to bite back the sounds your body so desperately wanted to release, you quickly lost that battle, succumbing to the pleasure that radiated through your body with each heavenly swipe of her thumb, each divine drag of her cock.

She must have sensed your approaching climax, her pace suddenly increasing and her metal claws sinking deeper into your hip.

The sound of the headboard smacking violently against the wall was lost to your mewls and moans- her grunts and heavy breaths.

And then- time slowed, your body stilling when all that build-up finally exploded in mind-numbing pleasure. You sobbed her name, barely getting out the last sweet syllable before all your breath left your body in a shuddering gasp.

“That’s it, pretty baby, let it all out.”

Your lover’s voice was merely a low hum in your head, the last waves of your orgasm still wreaking blissful havoc on your body.

Then, just as quick as it came, it was gone, leaving you in a daze. Sevika must have come to a stop at some point, you realized when you peeled your eyes open to gaze up at her.

She wore that damn lopsided grin- the cocky one she always has after she fucks you senseless. And senseless you were, brain damn well useless, empty of any and all thoughts other than how fucking wonderful Sevika was. That, and how badly you wanted to touch her. The only point of contact you had with her was the tops of her thighs pressed against the back of yours, and her hands resting against your hip and stomach. You needed to hold her. To be held by her.

“Sev- please,” you panted softly, hand weakly reaching out for her.

Still smirking, she bent over your limp body, her flesh arm slipping beneath your back to scoop you up and hold you against her. As she carried you further up the bed toward the headboard, the faux cock shifted inside you, pulling whines from you that elicited a chuckle you could feel from where her chest pressed to yours.

She dropped you rather unceremoniously against the pillows, smiling like the sexy fucking sadist she is at how the protest you had ready to fire turned into a sharp gasp when she pulled the strap out without warning.

“You’ve got to warn me when you do that!” you chastised, eyes narrowed on her.

She simply chuckled, slipped out of her harness, and tossed it aside. “I don’t have to do anything, princess,” she sneered.

Before you could fire back, she was over you, mouth pressed to yours in a deep kiss that took your breath and left your head spinning. You pulled your legs up, spreading them to give her room to kneel between them. She rested her metal arm beside your head, the soft whirring of its fan a distant echo in your fuzzy consciousness. Her other hand slid up along one of your thighs, fingertips sinking possessively into the supple flesh.

You tangled your fingers in her soft hair. You felt her knee press against your exposed core and your lips parted to moan softly, allowing her to slip her tongue inside and run along yours.

When she finally released your lips from hers, there was little time to recover as her mouth moved down your jaw and neck, biting and sucking marks into every inch of skin along her path. Lips barely grazing your ear, she whispered, “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Had she not already washed away your irritation with her earlier harsh treatment, it certainly would have faded in that instant. Your heart swelled, damn near bursting from your chest.

Your dynamic mostly consisted of witty banter, quips, and jabs. They were typically fairly well-matched, but she had a tendency to win by cheating. She knew what buttons to push, or rather touch, to have you forget any and all coherent thoughts. You both thoroughly enjoy it, and you both knew it was just your odd way of showing your interest in one another, that you both were actually head over heels for the other. However, in rare moments like this, Sevika would say out loud what she was actually thinking. And it left you absolutely floored every single time.

“You know-” you started quietly, pausing to clear your throat, afraid she’d detect that you were getting a bit choked up, “-I could say the same to you.”

She hummed against your neck while pressing more kisses there.

You two really were a gorgeous couple, you thought.

"Imagine what our children would look like."

The moment those words left your mouth you knew it was a fatal mistake, but there was no taking it back. Your heart sank to your stomach and Sevika’s lips paused against your skin.

Oh fuck!

She slowly lifted her head, a single brow raised as she peered down at you.

Oh dear god, say something to fix this!

“I- I mean not that I would have kids with you.” you spat out.

Sevika’s brow raised higher.

“I mean not that I wouldn’t want to- with you. I-”

Oh god, just shut up. You’re just digging a deeper grave.

“Not that I want to either. I- I mean honestly I haven't really thought about it. With you. Or anyone. I mean we couldn't technically...” Your cheeks burned hotter than the fucking sun the more you fumbled your words.

The corner of Sevika’s mouth twitched.

Sensing some sort of snark that would leave you wanting to just bury your head somewhere and never let her see your face again, you tried to further explain. “I just thought, like if we did, not that we would, or wouldn’t, that they’d be really cute and-”

Your nonsensical rambling was finally cut off by the soft press of Sevika’s lips to yours. She kept her mouth there, in a gentle kiss, her hand gently caressing your thigh, until you realized she wasn’t upset or planning to obliterate you with a mocking comment. Your heart rate finally settled and she pulled back from the kiss just far enough to look into your worried eyes.

You searched her face for any sign, any warning of what she might be thinking. All you found was the corner of her mouth curling upward.

Please let that be a good sign.

"IF we had children, they would be beautiful."

Oh gods, the way she looked at you as she said that– even with that damn smirk, those gray eyes sparkling while they watched you- spoke louder than anything. She was complimenting you. A shy smile spread across your face. You reached up to wrap your fingers around her bicep and whispered, “And strong.”

"And cunning."

"And cute." You emphasized the word with a peck to the tip of her nose.

"And great in bed," she added with a cocky smirk.

"Whoa, now that's just weird. We’re talking about our kids here. But are you saying I'm great in bed?!" you laughed.

"I'm saying I'm so damn good it would make up for your lacking." She grinned wider, revealing her tooth gap and making the snarky comment considerably less effective.

“Cute and annoying,” you replied with a barely contained smile as you pressed your hands against her shoulders and attempted to shove her off you.

She was too fast for you though. Not that it should have surprised you. With no effort whatsoever, she grabbed both your wrists into one hand and pinned them above your head. "Very annoying," she sneered.

To your surprise, rather than tease or mock you for your failure, she brought her lips to yours again.

You could feel the wide spread of her lips against yours, and couldn’t help but smile just as wide.

CH2>>

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader #fanfic #honey writes #ran #arcane ran

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irkimatsu · 1 month

Text

Inspired by a post from @monstrousvoice! I inspire your stuff and you can inspire mine! (Let me know if you want your name or post taken off of this!)

It's Husk's birthday, and GN!Reader spoils him with some nice cigars, scotch, and most importantly, a blowjob. Porn without plot, that's all this is! References to feline anatomy because I'm a perverted furry. Also a bit of shotgunning, because that's one of the risks you take making out with someone while he smokes. I think that's all the necessary warnings? NSFW, obviously! About 2.5k words!

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Husk takes a deep puff from his cigar before gently blowing out the smoke with a moan of contentment. A woodsy scent with a hint of spice swirls out of his mouth, lingering in the air of his bedroom even as the smoke dissipates.

“Fuck, I haven’t had one this good in years.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you say from behind him. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, and your legs are straddling him as you massage his shoulders. It’s his birthday, the first one since you two started dating, and you wanted to do something nice for him. He’d vented to you recently about how much he hates the taste of cheap cigarettes, but how they’re the only thing he can get his paws on to stave off the nicotine cravings.

“Why would anyone choose to smoke this shit if they weren’t already hooked? I tell you, once you’ve had a nice cigar, you’ll never wanna go back to these nasty fuckin’ things. The smell, the taste, the high, it’s all so much better with a cigar. Too bad I can’t afford them much anymore…”

You already knew how much he missed the life of luxury he used to lead, even if he did regret some of the things he had to do to stay on that peak for as long as he did. That rant of his gave you the perfect idea for his birthday present; you couldn’t permanently give him that luxury back, but at least you could give him a taste of it for an evening.

The pack of cigars wasn’t your only gift to help him regain that feeling. After another few puffs of his cigar, he reaches to grab the glass of scotch from his bedside table. He takes a series of small sips, not guzzling like he normally would. That’s how you know he enjoys it; with cheaper booze, his primary concern is keeping himself numb rather than savoring the underwhelming taste. This scotch isn’t a means to a self-destructive end, it’s an experience that he doesn’t want to rush.

“You’re making me feel like a king, baby,” he says, relaxed and happy, as he slumps down and leans into your touch. “I haven’t had a birthday this nice in a long time.”

“You deserve it,” you assure him with a kiss to the top of his head. “And I still have one more gift for you.”

“Another one?” he says with a small laugh. “You don’t have to spoil me like that…”

“But I want to,” you say. “Do you want me to get it ready now?”

“Can I keep smoking?” he asks.

“Of course.”

“Good.” He takes another drag, and his body gives a quick shiver as the tobacco hits his brain. “I’m not putting this out until there’s nothing left of it.”

“You won’t have to, I promise,” you say. “Just relax while I take care of you. Did you want to move to your lounge chair?”

“Aw, but you can’t rub my back as well when I’m sitting over there,” he says.

“What I have planned is better than a backrub.”

His ear gives a twitch; surely he has a few ideas of what’s going to happen once he moves. “Well, if ya say so.” He rises from the bed and heads over to the large leather chair in the corner of his room, black with golden embellishments on the back and on the front of the armrests. He sighs in contentment as he sinks into the chair, settling into his throne before returning to his cigar. As he gets comfortable, you begin rearranging things for his next present. You move his ashtray, scotch bottle, and empty glass to the table next to the chair, then pour him a fresh drink. He takes another few sips of scotch without putting the cigar down, while you set up the record player with his favorite romantic music. His ear twitches again as a slow drum beat overlaid with saxophone starts filling the room.

“I like where this is going,” he says with a chuckle.

Now that the mood is set, there’s nothing stopping you from sitting in his lap and cradling his cheeks in your hands. Without a word, you begin to kiss him. The taste of alcohol and smoke is heavy on his breath, but the light sweetness of the scotch and spice of the cigar are so much more pleasant than his usual binges. It mixes perfectly with his own natural taste, and you soon find yourself hooked. Glass gently thumps onto wood as he sets down his scotch, freeing up his paw to tangle his claws in your hair. He takes a few breaks from the kissing session to take another drag of his cigar, but since it renews the spice on his tongue, you don’t mind the interruptions.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask as you stroke the graying fur on his cheeks. “I’ll do anything you want.”

He takes a moment to hum in thought. “Hm… why don’t you surprise me? As long as it’s something I can keep smoking through.”

You smile at his request, and give his nose a quick kiss. “Glad you’re enjoying my present so much.” You return your kisses to his lips, your hands now moving with a purpose. You easily unfasten his suspenders without looking, having done this so many times before. After detaching the front fasteners from his pants and tucking the straps behind his shoulders, you start massaging him again, first rubbing his shoulders before running down to his chest. He moans as your fingers comb through the thick patch of fur, before moving to massage his nipples on either side of the patch.

“Fuck, baby…” he whispers between kisses. He takes another drag, this one shorter than usual so he can quickly return to your lips. He doesn’t take the time to blow out the smoke before kissing you, instead letting it flow from his mouth to yours.

You’d yell at him if he’d tried that with the cheap things he regularly smoked at the bar, but the warm, spicy smoke is actually pleasant.

You keep running your hands down his body, paying special attention to the extra pairs of nipples along the way. He doesn’t like having them treated too roughly, but your fingertips ghosting over them is enough to get him purring.

“I love kissing you,” you tell him as you rest your hands on his fly.

“I love kissing you, too,” he responds, not showing any sign that he’s caught on to where you’re going with this.

“I love kissing your lips…” You kiss his mouth one more time to make your point, then move a bit lower. “And your neck…”

He tilts his head back and groans as you gently suck on the side of his neck.

“And your chest…”

As you move down, kissing lower and lower on his body and lapping your tongue over his most sensitive areas, your hands are working on unfastening his pants. Without a word, he lifts his hips off the chair just enough for you to pull off his pants and underwear, moving as if by instinct. Not even the movement can stop him from continuing to smoke as you undress him. His dark cock is already erect, proudly displaying the barbs along his shaft and head. Your whole body shudders at the sight as you move to kneel on the floor, giving yourself a closer look at his endowment. You rest your hands on his knees and look up at him to gauge his reaction. He’s looking back down at you, sharp teeth holding his cigar in place as he grins.

Fuck, you’ll buy him cigars more often just to see that again.

He removes the cigar so that he can speak. “Where else do you like kissing me, doll?” he asks, still smirking.

You don’t need words to answer him. You give him a smile before you start nuzzling his cock, letting his barbs lightly scrape against your cheek. His natural scent is so strong down here; you could get as high off it as he is off his cigar.

“Husk…” you whisper, your brain already growing fuzzy. You turn your head and press a gentle kiss to his shaft. He growls in approval as you continue kissing him up and down, treating him tenderly enough to tease. As you kiss him, you start lightly fondling his balls in your palm.

He exhales your name in response as his claws lightly scratch your scalp. “C’mon, don’t tease…”

You give him a tiny bit more by sticking out your tongue, now licking his shaft with the same gentleness you previously gave with your lips. His breaths are getting heavier, and he’s gripping your hair more tightly.

“Babe…”

You lick your way down to the base, digging your tongue in where his cock and balls meet, before licking your way back up to his head. He groans as you lap at the bundle of barbs on the underside; his cock is roughest here, but the slight pain against your tongue is more than made up for by the fact that nothing else can get him squirming like this.

“C-c’moooon…” he groans as he jerks his hips aimlessly, rubbing his cock against your face and smearing it with his scent and his slick. You almost feel bad for him. You have been teasing him a lot, and on his birthday, no less…

You gently lap at his tip, sipping up the globs of precum that are trickling out of it. The taste is slightly bitter, but it’s so unmistakably him that you can’t help but want more. He lightly pushes on your head, not forcing you down, but clearly giving you the hint of what he needs.

You make sure to look him in the eyes as you sink your mouth over his tapered head.

“Oh God…” he groans. “Stay like that, just a second…” He smokes his cigar, letting the sensations of the tobacco and of your mouth swirl in his head like a delicious blur. “Fuck that’s good…”

You start slowly bobbing your head, not taking him too deeply yet. It’s still enough to make him moan, especially as your tongue keeps passing over his rough underside. You keep on massaging his balls as you go down on him, trying to keep the rhythm of your mouth and your hand somewhat in sync.

You pull your mouth off of him for just a second. “Don’t use your paws, okay? I wanna take care of you. Just relax and enjoy your gifts.”

He nods as he takes his claws out of your hair. Once he’s no longer touching you, you resume gently suckling on him, not taking him much deeper than his head yet. He’s clearly excited just by that, as his precum continues trickling out and mixing with your own drool.

You pull your mouth off to let the mixture dribble down onto his cock, then use your free hand to massage it into his shaft while you resume sucking. His barbs occasionally catch on your palm, but you’re used to it enough that it doesn’t slow you down.

He groans your name again as he reaches over to grab his scotch. He takes a slow sip, adding more alcohol to the cocktail of chemicals already coursing through his veins. Once he’s done drinking, he turns his attention back to you, watching you with lidded eyes and a lazy smile. A cigar in one paw, scotch in the other, wings spread wide, relaxing on his throne as someone serves him… is this how he used to live as an Overlord?

You wouldn’t mind helping him relive those days more often… he’s fucking handsome like this. Arousal burns through you at the sight, and you can’t help but go down on him faster and deeper.

“Fuuuuck…” He’s groaning and rolling his head back, and you know that if his paws weren’t occupied he’d be pushing down on your head. You don’t normally mind that, but he’s following your request to let you lead this time. His hips are bucking into your mouth a little, but you know he can’t help that, so you’ll let it slide.

You lightly squeeze his balls in your palm, and he cries out from the sensation. He’s starting to twitch and throb within your mouth, and more and more precum is flooding out of him. His paws are trembling too badly for him to continue savoring his other gifts; he may even end up spilling his scotch.

He’s in too much bliss to care.

“So- close-” As if you needed him to tell you. You pull your mouth up to just cover his head, and start giving him your all, both hands rapidly spoiling his shaft and balls while your tongue bathes his head. He doesn’t last long. A cry escapes from his muzzle as his cock starts draining into your mouth, hot ropes of seed washing over your tongue. His hips keep thrusting up into you, seeking more stimulation to ease out a few more shots, but soon, he’s spent enough to relax unmoving into his chair again.

He swears before taking his cigar back in his mouth and holding it there. You pull your mouth off of him, careful not to spill too much out of your mouth, and gently rest your head on his soft thigh. He strokes your hair with his free paw, a purr emitting from his throat and rumbling his whole body in the process. He’s staring down at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen; you could blush at the reverence his expressions always show you.

You swallow most of the mess in your mouth, then nuzzle against his thigh. “Was that a good gift?” you ask.

“Fuckin’ perfect, doll,” he assures you. A final drag of his cigar reduces it to a stub, which he crushes into his ashtray. “Come up here?”

You bring yourself back up into his lap, and he immediately pulls you into a cuddle. One arm wraps tightly around your waist while the other presses your head against his shoulder. You can feel his constant purring even more strongly from up here. You reach around to lightly scratch him under his wings, which earns you another contented moan amidst the purrs.

“Is there anything else you want me to do for you?” you ask him.

“Wouldn’t mind taking you to bed in a bit,” he tells you before kissing your head. “But for now, could I just hold you?”

You settle into his embrace, happy to give him whatever he wants; not just for his birthday, but for the rest of his life.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk huskposts

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