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[the-travelling-witch]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋

summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in the devildom doesn't make it any better; luckily, these demons are here to help

pairings: mammon :: belphegor :: barbatos x reader

warnings: period-having reader (gn pronouns), blood, mild cramps

a/n: this is literally so self-indulgent, as everything i write is, but whenever i'm on my period thinking of scenarios like this helps me sit through cramps, so i thought i'd share the nonesense with you ♡

obey me masterlist || similar writing: twisted pains [twst]

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍

“Human! Open ya damn door!”

“No, please let me die in peace,” you whined from underneath your blankets as the banging against your door continued.

“If ya don’t let me in right now, I’ll kick it down, ya hear me?!” You could practically see Mammon pacing a ridge into the floor in front of your room, so you trudged over there and unlocked it, the demon almost colliding with you from how quickly he opened the door. His snow-white hair was sticking up from his head as if he’d run his hands through it without noticing. “What’s the big deal makin’ me wait so damn long, huh?”

“I told you I’m trying to pass away from this life,” you deadpanned, trudging back to your bed, groaning as another cramp twisted your lower stomach. “First, I have to deal with this shit in a house full of male demons who are absolutely not prepared to handle a human exchange student on their period. And second-“

You paused, for both dramatic flair and to take a calming breath. Then, you turned around and gave Mammon a saccharine smile dipping pure venom.

“I find out that apparently the entire Devildom can smell that I’m on my period if I step a foot out the bloody door.”

“Listen, I’m sorry.” Mammon held up his hands to plead his innocence. “I didn’t mean ta be so rude about it. But in my defence, I didn’t know it’s a normal thing for humans to just start bleedin’. I thought ya were dyin’!”

You painfully remembered how you had dragged yourself out of your room this morning, after luckily finding some hygiene products in the bag you had with you when you were whisked away to the Devildom unannounced (thank the sky guy you threw them into literally every bag and purse you owned). Already in a bad mood, you’d plopped down into your designated seat, ready to fight for your breakfast, only to feel six pairs of eyes on you.

“What?” You had asked, when nobody passed you the bread basket.

That had been when Mammon, eyes as wide as the coaster under your mug, almost jump-scared you into dropping your butter knife. 

“WHY ARE YA BLEEDIN’?!” He’d already pulled you from your chair and started inspecting you for any signs of injuries, tugging your arms up and inspecting your head. “Are ya hurt anywhere?”

“Mammon, I’m fine. You can let go of me now.” You almost had to wrestle your arm back from him, heat already creeping up your cheeks. 

“Clearly yer not!”

Exhaling deeply you said through gritted teeth “I’m on my period, if you have to know.”

The demons around the table had exchanged glances, but sadly only three of them had held a spark of understanding, those being Satan, Levi and Asmodeus. Mammon and Beel on the other hand seemed more lost (well, Beel actually had his eyes on his food but that was beside the point) and Lucifer’s face had been unreadable.

“Woah, periods are an actual thing?” Levi had asked incredulously, his voice somewhere between shock and awe. “I thought anime made those up for the sake of the plot.”

“I see,” Satan had given you hope. “I‘ve read about those before in some books on human anatomy but I didn’t think it was a big deal, seeing as it wasn’t talked about much.”

“Satan, pray tell, from when were those books?” 

“The 18th century perhaps?” He shrugged, tilting his head.

“Well, that explains a lot,” you had sighed, whereas Asmo had just dropped his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry about them, hon. But demons don’t experience periods, so I doubt any of them will be much help,” he had squeezed your hand sympathetically.

Lucifer had cleared his throat then. “Well, it appears that we have some catching up to do, now that we are hosting a human exchange student. Given your…predicament, you are allowed to stay home from RAD as long as this affects you.”

You had sighed a breath of relief.

“In exchange, however,” Lucifer had continued, making you dread the next words to leave his mouth, “it will fall to you that my brothers are properly educated on how to handle this side of humanity.”

So, that afternoon, you had found yourself in the common room, holding a presentation on the menstrual cycle in front of the brothers… and the future demon king himself. Yes, of course, Diavolo had gotten wind of your situation and simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to learn more about humans. At least, him being in the know meant you’d never have to worry about getting period products imported to the Devildom ever again.

Subsequently, you had locked yourself in your room, curled up under a blanket as you scrolled through Devilgram trying to forget this whole ordeal happened. A good hour later, Mammon had started pounding against your door like a madman.

With him standing in your room now, you could see the bag he was holding as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you patted the spot next to you.

“I’ll forgive you. It would have been more embarrassing if I went to RAD without knowing,” you said placatingly. “Anyways, what’s that?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’…” Mammon trailed off, looking anywhere but you as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just… Ya were sayin’ this stuff could help and we didn’t have any, so I went and got some for ya… Only because Lucifer would string me from the ceiling if ya went and complained! That’s all!”

Taking the plastic bag from him, you peered inside to see various types of human world painkillers, a hot water bottle and chocolates. Despite what the demon had just said, you noted that the chocolate brand he bought was the one you liked best, something you had only dropped in a passing sentence when you talked to Asmo about a new trending dessert.

“Thank you, Mammon,” you smiled genuinely. “That actually is really helpful.”

“Really?” He managed to suppress his grin before it curled further than the corner of his lips before clearing his throat and hiding half his face behind his hand. “I mean, I’m only doin’ ma job, ya know? So Lucifer gives me back Goldie!”

“Sure you are,” you laughed, the first time since your day started.  “Does your job also involve staying with me and watching a movie?”

“Yeah!” This time he was too late to hide his excitement, then he caught himself and tried again, calmer this time. “I uh- I could fit ya in my super busy schedule. Gotta make sure ya don’t die after all, huh?”

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑

What a horrible way to start your day.

Well, under other circumstances, it would’ve been near perfect. Waking up snuggled comfortably in your boyfriend’s tight hold as he lightly snored into the crook of your neck, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. 

If it wasn’t for the unpleasant twisting of your lower stomach you might have turned around and slept the morning away. Still slightly groggy, you sat up in bed, hoping dearly it was just a fleeting stomach ache or hunger and not your period, despite the clear symptoms. 

All hope was shattered however, when you shifted and you knew instantly that you could kiss this pair of underwear goodbye. With some effort, you wriggled out of Belphie’s vice grip, looking back at the sleepy demon as he groaned in protest only to see a large blood stain where you’d just lain. At your shocked gasp echoing around the attic, you watched his brows knit together and his nose wriggle, his forehead creasing as if he was deep in thought. Then, he blinked his eyes open.

“What’s—“ he cut himself off with a yawn, “What’s wrong? Are you alright? What are you doing over there?”

“Belphie… I’m so sorry,” you nearly sobbed, guilt bubbling up in you. In combination with your hormones being all over the place and your still sleep-addled mind, tears were threatening to form along your waterline.

In a heartbeat, the Avatar of Sloth was up and next to you, pulling you into a hug and bringing your head to rest against his shoulder, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other holding you close by the waist. You’d never seen him move this fast this early in the morning.

“Hey, hey, what’s up?” He gently prodded, voice still raspy with sleep but soft nonetheless. “Please talk to me, starlight.”

“It’s— Your sheets, I’m so sorry… I didn’t know…” You buried your face deeper in the fabric draping over his chest as you felt him turn his head towards the bed. Then, a beat of silence spanned across the attic.

“That’s what you’re fussing about?”

“Yeah, I mean—“ Collecting your thoughts, you began again. “It’s gross and a pain to clean. I really should’ve known that—“

“Hey, look at me.” Tilting your face towards his, your eyes met amethyst ones as you followed the guidance of his fingers underneath your chin. “It’s not gross, you hear me? No part of you could ever be.”

“But the blood-“

“I’m a demon, might I remind you. You’d think I can handle a little blood.” There was a caring seriousness in his gaze that made you weak in the knees, the love and adoration you found swirling within almost making you cry for a whole other reason. “You didn’t actually think I’d be mad at you about something so natural, did you?”

“It’s generally a bit of a taboo topic and conversations about it can be quite stigmatised, so…,” you shrugged.

“You’re telling me half the population go through this every month and the topic is hushed up anyway? You’re already stressed enough and people give you crap for something like this?” You nodded at his incredulous tone. “Well that’s just stupid.”

For a moment, Belphie just held you, his fingers tracing random shapes into your hip. Then, he pulled you towards a dresser in the corner of the room, never letting go of you completely. 

With how much time you had started spending in the attic it was a somewhat natural course of nature that your clothes would gradually end up moving here as well. Pulling out a fresh pair of underwear and a pair of black sweatpants, you didn’t have time to reach for a sweater before a soft pile of fabric was already pushed into your hands. Upon closer inspection, you identified it to be one of Belphie’s hoodies.

“I know you like wearing them,” he merely shrugged off your raised eyebrow. “Now go and take your time washing up, but make sure to come back straight away when you’re done.”

Practically herding you out of the door, you almost had to snort at the irony of the Avatar of Sloth encouraging you to do something you might not have had the energy to otherwise. But you were incredibly thankful for it because when the shower’s warm water hit you, you noticed how much you needed this, feeling born anew after scrubbing your skin clean.

Climbing back up the stairs to the attic, you already felt a lot calmer than when you had woken up, swaddled in Belphie’s cloud-like hoodie (seriously, where did he find fabric like that?) and surrounded by a mixture of his scent and your body wash.

When you pushed open the attic door, you blinked at the new set of sheets Belphie was lounging on, the old ones nowhere to be seen. Even without you moving, the demon perked up at your presence, extending one arm to coax you back into bed.

“What are you still doing over there? Come here,” he said, voice already drowsy again. “There’s still some morning left to be slept away.”

Who were you to refuse? Sliding under the covers next to him, you turned and twisted into whatever pretzel position made you cramp the least before two strong arms wrapped around you. This was another perk of being with Belphie; if anyone could accommodate weird sleeping positions, it was him.

Warm hands found their way under his hoodie, his palms pressed flatly against your lower back where most of your pain was coming from, while the hips of his fingers slowly caressed the surrounding skin.

“Feeling better?” He mumbled into the crown of your head.

“Mhm, much better,” you breathed into the crook of his neck, sighing as his natural body heat slowly eased some of the constant pressure in both your lower stomach and back. “How did you know about the back pain though?”

“You always complain about it, especially on the first day,” he replied nonchalantly, as if it was the most natural thing to know. 

“How did I get so lucky,” you mused, your tone playful but just as genuine. “Makes me feel even worse about ruining your sheets.”

“Literally don’t worry about it, you do too much of that anyway. I left them with Asmo, he knows how to get just about any stain out of stuff.” You tried not to think about the specifics of where that expertise came from, so you rolled your eyes at the very typical behaviour of the youngest to dump his work on his brothers. Then you stiffened. Work. Chores. You were on grocery shopping duty today. “What’s the matter now?”

“I have to go out soon and get everything we need for dinner,” you sighed. Maybe you could convince someone to trade it with an indoor chore for the week.

Before you could reach for your D.D.D, the arms around you held you a little closer to the demon you were snuggled up against, one of his legs draping over your thigh, careful not to put too much pressure on you as he tangled your legs with his.

“Well that’s too bad,” Belphie mumbled into your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Looks like Lucifer has to find someone else for the job. Because you’ll be busy all day.”

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒

Periods had the annoying habit of showing up whenever they pleased, which mostly meant whenever it was most inconvenient for you. Being well aware of that fact didn’t mean you were any more prepared for it to happen, though. 

So, as you were running errands around RAD with Barbatos, it suddenly felt like your insides were squeezed together and wrung out like a washcloth, making you stagger and pause to steady yourself again. When your companion turned to ask if you were alright, you assured him everything was fine, hoping it was just one bad cramp that would ebb away soon.

But over the course of the next fifteen minutes, it progressively got worse and you had trouble focusing on the task at hand, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you sorted through student council documents. As you reached for a new stack of files, gloved hands came to rest over yours, preventing you from picking up more work.

“You should not overexert yourself, dear,” a soft voice spoke close to your ear. On other occasions, you would have welcomed the way his hands smoothed down your shoulders when it was just the two of you for once, but you couldn’t think about anything but the pain you were experiencing. “Without meaning to offend, you’re looking rather unwell. Allow me to take you to the Demon Lord’s Castle.”

“What about work?” You mumbled but didn’t resist as he pulled you to your feet, steadying you with a hand between your shoulder blades. “And Diavolo?”

“Do not worry about that. There’s no rush to complete these files and the Young Master has given the explicit order for me to take care of you,” Barbatos smiled as he led you out of RAD, careful to avoid as much unwanted attention as possible. “An order I was all too happy to comply with, might I add.”

“So you knew,” you sighed with a smile, not actually too surprised at the revelation. “I did think it was suspicious to have you all to myself the entire day. Do I even have to ask how you knew?”

“Well, as you have come to learn, demons are far more perceptive to certain reactions of the body, hormonal changes included,” he explained matter of factly. “Aside from that, however, I have also made it a priority to learn the rhythm of your body to best care for you.”

“You track my cycle? Despite being so busy already?” You turn your head to look at him in surprise.

“Of course. Not only are you an honoured exchange student, you are also someone who is immensely important to me,” he said as he held the castle door open for you, his verdant gaze full of adoration. “Naturally, I aim to ease your strains and alleviate some of the burden you carry.”

“You really don’t have to—“

“But I want to.” Taking your hand in his, the fabric of his gloves soft against your skin, he brushed your knuckles with a featherlight kiss. “Please allow me to take care of you, my love.”

“I guess I can’t say no when you ask like that,” you laughed sheepishly. Your body seemingly agreed with you as it sent another wave of cramps to make your knees buckle. 

“You must be exhausted,” Barbatos said, no doubt picking up on your unease immediately. “Let me draw you a warm bath to ease some of your tension.”

Said, done. Soon thereafter, you were sinking into a tub that probably cost more than a normal person’s house, the water the absolute perfect temperature to relax your muscles. You also noted how there were no strong scents present, only the hint of something floral and calming, but not overwhelmingly so.

After some time of soaking in the bath and with your permission, Barbatos stepped back into the bathroom. First, he wrapped you in the fluffiest black towel, carefully patting your skin dry so as to not irritate it. Then, he applied a moisturising lotion, gently kneading out any knots in your legs and shoulders with his skilled fingers before helping you into a new set of clothes which felt light as feathers against your skin. 

He also showed you where to find any sort of hygiene product you might need and, to nobody’s surprise, somebody had stocked the guest bathroom you used whenever you came over with every possible product there was.

In your guest room, Barbatos guided you over to the sofa and lounge chairs underneath one of the high windows where a tea set was already waiting for you on the table in the middle. 

“I took the liberty to prepare some tea and a few pastries while you were bathing. This blend has soothing qualities and is known to help with cramping. Given your usual choice of tea, I also think the aroma will be to your taste,” the demon explained and, as always, you were stunned by his level of attention to detail. 

As he poured it, you noticed, however, that there was only one cup on the table and instead of getting one for himself, Barbatos went to fetch a hot water bottle. 

Wrapping it in a cloth he warned you to be careful not to burn yourself before announcing he’d start preparations for dinner, letting you know he’d be making your favourite. But before he could turn to leave, you caught his wrist, a surprised expression flitting over his face for just a second.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you started, holding his gaze, “would you join me for tea? It’s been a while since we sat down together.”

At your request his face smoothed over into a fond smile, the hand in your grasp coming up to brush over your cheekbone. 

“I suppose dinner can wait a little longer,” he said, clearly as happy as you to spend time with you. “Then again, even if it couldn’t, I’d find it hard to leave you. Especially when your wish and mine are so closely intertwined.”

© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

[avocado-writing]

home

pairing: 14th doctor x reader & 10th doctor x reader

rating: E

notes: no gender or age given for reader, just that you last saw the doctor fifteen years ago. thank you to @mcganns for being my beta!!

This too shall pass.

It was a sentiment that you had to cling onto when he left, because fuck knows it was the most painful thing you’d ever felt. And you’d run away from actual explosions before. Big ones, in space! Supernovas which could eat entire planets while you hung onto the side of a little blue box. 

And yet none of it even begins to compare to when he fucking left you. 

He said it wouldn’t be forever. Well, he shouted it at you as you fell out of the TARDIS. There was a time explosion, and you got rocketed back to your little flat in the middle of Hackney, on Earth only a few days from when he’d picked you up — but in your reality months of adventure had passed. 

You’d not really settled back in, certain that he was going to come and rescue you. But then days turned into weeks into months and you finally accepted that the Doctor had abandoned you. 

So you went back to it all. Your mundane little existence before a mad, brilliant man had whisked you away. Your boss was a bit miffed that you’d gone AWOL but you were their best employee so they couldn’t afford to let you go, all you got was a slap on the wrist and a command not to let it happen again. The people you loved didn’t really seem to notice your absence that much, which stung; you couldn’t blame them though. You’d probably not miss you much either. 

The Doctor. He made you feel special in a way nobody had before. Like you were the centre of a whole, giant, fantastic universe, and he adored you for it. 

Still. 

No point mulling that over again, is there?

Fifteen years. Things did get better. You moved on eventually. But you still find your thoughts drifting back to him every once in a while, and that fragment of time you spent totally utterly in love with each other. When you think about the way he kissed you, without realising it you end up touching your lips.

No. No. Stop. 

The singing of the kettle snaps you back into reality, and you pour yourself a hot cuppa. Ah, tea. The antidote to everything. You go to turn the radio on for some company as you shift into your morning routine when you hear a knock at the door. 

Probably the postie. He’s a bit early today, you think, but make no more of it as you undo the latch and open the door. 

Your heart stops. 

Because there he is, of course. 

Older. Weathered. Not the young man you once knew but a grownup version of him, as exhausted by life as you are. 

You drop your mug. Quick as a flash the Doctor grabs it out of midair. The tea sloshes onto the floor but at least nothing gets shattered. 

He goes to look up at you, but his attention is drawn back to his hand. 

“I bought you this mug years ago,” he says, utterly amazed. 

You shut the door in his face. 

Well, you try to, anyway. But he sticks a foot in between the door and the frame, with one of those stupid Converse he always wears.

“I know you’re angry, I know. But please let me come in.”

It’s such an absurd statement you find yourself laughing, a high and desperate noise. 

“Absolutely not!” Actually, no. That’s not enough. “How dare you. Why are you even here?!”

“Because I wanted— I needed to see you.”

You still want to slam the door on him, but there’s a desperation to his voice that gives you pause. And when he looks at you with those sad, puppy-dog eyes? Those eyes as lined with age as you are?

Fuck. You’re so weak. 

So that’s how you find the Doctor sitting at your kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him. You lean against the counter, defences still up, eyeing him from over the top of your mug. He drums his fingers against the tablecloth. 

“I like your house. Your calendar is nice, I enjoy the kitten motif.”

“Don’t,” you spit, slamming the mug down and sloshing tea onto the floor, “don’t you dare. You don’t get to waltz back here and start telling me ‘oh, I enjoy your furnishings, haven’t you made a nice little life for yourself since I abandoned you!’ I let you in to speak your piece, though god knows why. Say it and be done.”

The Doctor looks deflated. His shoulders sag, mouth falls. You take a moment to properly look at him. He seems… tired. Tired in a way you never knew him to be when you went on your adventures. Part of you wants to offer comfort, but the other part of you wants to withhold it maliciously. Anything to make him feel the way you felt. 

“I looked for you,” is what he settles on, heavily. You didn’t expect that, and it knocks you. 

“What?”

“I did. After the explosion, I tried searching all over the galaxy for you. I didn’t know where - when - you’d ended up. I scanned and scanned but something stopped you from appearing on the TARDIS’s sensors. I think… the amount of artron energy emitted during the blast somehow cloaked you.”

You say nothing, your silence an invitation for him to continue his explanation. 

“It took years. Literal years, for me. Every spare moment I had, I dedicated to looking for you. Head buried in the circuitry of the TARDIS, trying to fix whatever was hiding you, gave myself a couple of nasty shocks too. And, when I finally tracked you down, I’d regenerated.”

You blink. Right. Yes. He’d explained that, but you’d never seen it with your own eyes. The same person, a different face. 

“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me if I didn’t look like me. But I had to try anyway, didn’t I? So I came here. To your house. I got myself all ready for it, knocked on your door… and found that you were married.”

Your fingers grip the counter. 

“Oh.”

“He seemed nice. Loved you a lot, as you deserved. And I couldn’t tell you I was back, could I? I saw you pottering around in the kitchen, making the tea - you were always the best at making tea - and you were happy. How could I ask you to leave that all, uproot the life you’d made for yourself, just to jump back in the TARDIS with me? How could I be so cruel? I couldn’t, could I. So I left again. Tried to move on. Like you did.”

You’re crying now. You can feel hot tears slide down your face and soak into your jumper. 

“Oh, Doctor,” you manage. You want to tell him so much. It feels like it might burst out of you. But instead you settle on:

“Why now?”

He smiles thinly. 

“Because somehow I got this face back, and I wanted to see you. I wanted to be selfish for once.”

You find yourself at the table, on the wonky chair opposite him, sliding your hand over to cover his. It’s rough and warm. Just like you remember. He says your name with reverence, but like it pains him. 

“I never stopped loving you. Ever. Through it all, every adventure, I knew it wasn’t complete because you weren’t there. It just wasn’t the same without wonderful, brilliant you,” he admits. He sounds defeated. It breaks your heart — or, actually, it might just put it back together again. 

A beat passes. His confession lingers in the air, heavy, thick and choking like smoke from an untameable fire. 

“His name was Simon. He was a baker. He was lovely, actually… and we got divorced two years ago.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows. 

“You… what… why?”

“Because he knew there was someone else I never really let go of. Someone else who, despite everything, I still loved.”

He looks you in the eyes, and you see something glimmer there that you long since gave up on. 

Hope. 

And then, suddenly, you’re kissing. 

It’s like nothing has changed. His lips are still rough and searching on yours, a hint of tongue giving away into more the deeper you entangle. He sits you up on the table and steps into the space left by your spread legs, and between each kiss he says your name. It’s full of adoration but lined with desperation, too. 

Like the kisses he gave you the first night you laid together, on a bed in his spaceship floating across the galaxy. When he buried himself inside you and you felt his two hearts beat in rhythm with your own. 

“Doctor…” you manage. 

Fuck. You need him. You didn’t realise how badly you needed him. You didn’t realise a piece of your soul has been missing this whole time, fucking torn out of you and leaving a jagged hole in its wake. And him, back, telling you he loves you and always has? You’re patched together like kintsugi. 

Your Doctor is the molten gold you need. 

“Please. I need to…” he’s so desperate he can barely get the words out, but you nod; he’s undoing the belt buckle of your jeans and pulling them off like they’re silk. When his thin waist meets yours you cross your ankles behind him and lock him into place, and his hands - a little fumbling, a little nervous to be mapping out the plain of you again - begin to trace your chest. You lean into his touch to let him know yes. This is okay. I want this. Make me whole again. 

His warm, rough palms slide under the hem of your shirt and lift it easily over your head, the only break in a while you take from your kiss. You let yourself grab his tie to bring him closer. He’s fully dressed still and you’re almost naked; you remember how he used to like that, enjoy feeling a bit more put together than you. Cheeky blighter. Still though, as his suit scratches your skin, you can’t say you don’t agree. 

However. In this instance he has far too many clothes. 

You tug at his jacket and he knows what you need, letting it fall to the floor with his tie and waistcoat following it. He ruts against you as he unbuttons his shirt a bit, not the whole way, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of his chest. He’s so skinny. You’ve always been a bit worried that, on one of your rougher days, you might snap him in half. You still are now, actually. 

Cupping his face in your hands you let your thumbs caress his cheekbones. Your Doctor. Older but the same. Just like you. 

You can feel him more than half-hard against your leg. No more time wasting. You need him. You need him, you need him, you need him. 

It doesn’t take long to undo his fly and have him in your hand. You’ll always be glad he chose this human anatomy. Though you’d love him no matter how he looks, there’s something wonderful about his cock as it is here. He lets his head fall forward onto your shoulder with a moan if your name. 

“Oh… you’re…”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree, a genuine smile passing your face for the first time in god knows how long. He’s just the right length and on the thick side, and you know what a delicious stretch he is when he pushes inside of you. You can’t wait to feel it again. A couple of pumps and he’s ready, dripping precome and a ruddy red. Another time you’d bend down and taste him, remind yourself what a Time Lord’s cock is like. But now today. Well, not now. 

You lay back, readjusting yourself so he can push your underwear to the side and find your entrance. A couple of fingers - those long, delicate, clever and cunning fingers - press inside you and test you out. You’re ready for him. He makes a choked noise in the back of his throat as he realises and you laugh, properly, throwing your head back. 

“Come on, Doctor. Show me that you’ve missed me.”

He used to never shut up. And now he’s stunned into a desperate silence, lining up with you and pushing in as he does his best to make you feel what he’s been feeling too. 

A loneliness is fixed. He slides home inside you and your hips meet, the both of you letting out a long and ragged breath. You sit there for a moment, locked in the most intimate embrace, and just feel each other. You fist your hands in his shirt. He’s here. He’s real. You feel him trace his palm up your back as if you assure himself of the same thing. 

Slowly he begins to move. It is a long and lovely drag, his cock hitting all the points you missed being touched, and when he feels you gasp he goes harder. The Doctor nuzzles into the skin of your neck, nestling to the warmth of you there, and you hear him repeat a mantra both of your name and “I love you”.

Over and over. As if the two phrases are inextricably linked. 

You’re so full. You’re so light. Everything feels perfect in this moment. And when he reaches between your bodies to touch your sex, push you to the edge, you know you’ll climax for him embarrassingly fast. 

When you come you see stars light up behind your eyes. The sky, the unfiltered and untamed sky takes you over. The Doctor says your name one final fine and releases inside you, his hips riding it out as if to savour every second in the sweet grip of you. 

He can’t look at your face when he asks you. He says it from the safety of your shoulder where his face is buried, because if you say no you know his heart will shatter. 

“Come with me, in the TARDIS again. I know I shouldn’t ask you to leave your home but… you complete me, you know. Always have.”

“Leave my home?! Doctor, don’t be daft. This is just a house in bloody Hackney. You’re my home.”

You pull back to meet his gaze. He’s tired, but bright. His eyes twinkle. And there’s the Doctor you know. 

“And of course,” you continue. And, as the smile engulfs his face and he lights up, “it’s not like I’m doing anything else, am I?”

This time, when you go AWOL from your job, you never come back. 

[wileys-russo]

cute little blurb about being on camp in Spain with less??

puzzle book II a.russo

"and see this? thats called sunshine! and thats why you don't live in england kid!" lucy beamed smugly as the two of you finished up training and you grinned, her arm draped across your shoulder.

"oi! stop trying to poach my RB bronzey." beth warned tugging you away from her with a playful glare making you laugh. "i could put in a good word, thats all i'm gonna say!" lucy winked at you before holding her hands up in defence.

"don't you listen to a word she says! you're a gooner till you die and if you dare forget it i'll call leah and she'll be on a plane here to beat some sense into you." beth warned sternly before pulling you into a headlock. "meado!" you laughed again trying to pull away as she struggled to cling on.

you jumped a little as a new set of arms wrapped round your hips, pulling you easily from beths grip and into someone elses, though you relaxed immediately at the smell of your girlfriends perfume invading your senses.

"hello gorgeous." alessia smiled softly, kissing your cheek and hugging you tightly from behind. "disgustin!" beth gagged sticking her finger down her throat but she quickly scurried off at alessia's narrowed eyes.

"babe where we we going?" you questioned as your girlfriend started to walk the two of you in the opposite direction to where you were originally headed. "ice bath, recovery." alessia answered as you tensed.

"less! no i already did one yesterday i was told i didn't need it today." you groaned trying to pull away as she just held on tighter, lucy watching on with an amused smile already in the small pool.

"baby i am just looking out for you, gotta make sure you're in your best shape for tomorrow." alessia grinned, easily lifting you up and dropping you into the pool as you winced and hissed at the change in temperature.

"i hate you." you huffed as your girlfriend climbed in after you with a wink. "i love you too." she kissed your cheek and bumped her hip into yours with a grin.

"enjoy the view?" she smiled smugly, tucking her top up and bending down a little more into the water not missing the way your eyes temporarily dropped down to her abs.

"how soon did you say i could transfer to barcelona?" you turned to ask lucy with a frown making her chuckle.

"alessia!" you gasped as suddenly your legs were swept out beneath you, sending you tumbling down into the ice bath and onto your ass. "fuck thats cold." you winced, taking lucy's extended hand as she pulled you up.

"well it is an ice bath genius." ella piped up from a few metres away, head buried in a magazine as your eyes narrowed. "oi!" ella shot to her feet as you kicked your foot sending a small wave of freezing water onto her.

"nah man me crossword!" ella groaned shaking the dripping book as you shot your girlfriend a glare and promptly stepped out of the ice bath, accepting a towel from one of the coaching staff with a grateful smile.

"warned you that big mouth would get you in trouble tooney." lucy chuckled as you wrapped the towel around you and stepped into the sun to try and dry off. "less control ya missus would ya?" ella groaned as you raised an eyebrow.

though before you could lunge at her like you intended your girlfriend appeared in front of you with an amused smile, grabbing your hips and shaking her head.

"move. you're already in the dog house russo would you like to make it worse?" you warned with a scowl which only caused her smile to widen. "you're quite sexy when you're mad love." the blonde grinned, snatching your towel off you and wrapping it around her own body.

"and you're proper ugly when you're calm." "right thats it tooney come here!"

~

"not sitting with the love of your life? do i smell trouble in paradise?" mary teased as you dropped down beside her, stealing her sunglasses as the team watched the under 23's warm up for their match against spain.

"maybe i just missed you mazza, hardly got a good look at you when i was busy whipping balls past you last weekend." you smiled as marys face dropped. "i'm joking! i love you." you hugged her tightly as she hummed.

"yeah yeah get in line you pest." mary flicked your ear but the smile stayed on her lips as the two of you chatted, not really have had much time to do so this camp so far as the game kicked off.

"incomin!" you grunted as a weight landed on your back and you almost fell forward, grace clinging onto you as mary grabbed the back of your top to stop you from slipping off your seat.

"get off me you little shit." you groaned, grace pinching at your cheeks and stretching your face as you grunted and tried to throw her off to no success.

"you're so annoying gracie get off its hot!" you whined, smacking marys knee for help as she ignored you with a wave of her hand, eyes busy watching the game going on in front of you.

"grace, off!" you heard a new voice call out a couple of rows down, both your heads turning to see your girlfriend staring sternly at your young teammate in warning.

"or what?" grace grinned, arms still locked around your neck as alessia simply stood and grace immediately let go. "alright! no need to get ya shorts in a twist less." grace scrambled back to her seat as mary chuckled.

catching the blondes eye after she sat back down the taller girl pouted and tapped the empty spot next to her expectantly. "go on." mary nudged her shoulder into yours as you rolled your eyes and stood, alessia's face lighting up.

"hi baby!" she greeted happily as you sat down beside her, pulling you into a hug which of course you melted into. "missed you." she mumbled as you smiled and broke apart, her arm stretched out behind you as you leaned a little into her side.

"i saw you an hour ago lessi!" you laughed quietly as she pouted again. "exactly, you could be gone for ten seconds and i'd miss you." the girl frowned as you rolled your eyes again and softly kissed her cheek.

"watch the game you big sap." you leaned your head on her shoulder, closing your eyes as your face was bathed in the warm glow of the spanish sun, lulled by the chatter of your teammates around you.

you hadn't even realised you'd dozed off until a finger was poking at your cheek and your eyes opened slowly, pulling your head off of alessia's shoulder and smacking away the offending hand.

"wakey wakey!" georgia cooed as you pushed marys sunglasses up onto your head and rubbed your eyes. "i envy the way you can just fall asleep anywhere, please do teach us your ways." keira shook her head from the row behind as you glanced at her with a small smile.

"insomnia." you chuckled, leaning back into the comforting warmth of your girlfriend who was speaking to maya and millie on her other side, her hand moving to rest against the small of your back.

the game now finished only a few more minutes passed until everyone was called to head back onto the busses to drive back to the hotel. unable to avoid chattering away to georgia you were much more awake now, well rested from the tiny power nap.

"do you want to go for a walk by the beach when we get back to the hotel babe?" alessia asked, snagging your hand in hers and swinging them to and fro as you followed after the other girls out toward the parking lot.

"can we go to watch the sunset instead?" you questioned, that having become a routine of sorts with the two of you when you went to the world cup in australia. "great idea! we can all go." millie beamed as she grabbed your other hand. "one big happy family." maya agreed taking your girlfriends other hand.

"how romantic." ella made kissy faces from in front of the two of you as you lazily kicked at her and alessia rolled her eyes. "piss off!" the blonde chuckled, both of you tugging your hands free and filing onto the bus, your girlfriend pulling you into the seat beside her.

the ride back was quick, alessia latched onto you from behind as her chin rested on your shoulder and the two of you chattered away with beth and rachel who were sat across from you.

"where are you going?" your girlfriends arms circled around your stomach as most of the girls made a beeline for the pool and the gardens and you headed for the hotel once you were all dropped off.

"more like where are you taking me?" you laughed, smiling up at the girl who grinned. "poolside for some puzzles and a cuddle, obviously." alessia sighed, stealing a kiss and grabbing your hand again as you allowed her to lead you away.

"you and that puzzle book, baby it makes my brain hurt!" you groaned laying down onto one of the sun loungers, alessia flopping beside you and pulling it out of her bag.

"thats not hard considering its so tiny." ella piped up from where she stood in front of the lounger juggling a ball with millie and maya. "leave her, she only does it to wind you up babe and you bite everytime." alessia chuckled as you huffed and settled for shooting ella a glare as the girl blew you a kiss.

"millie!" ella gasped as the ball smacked her in the forehead making you grin as they took off chasing one another before someone cleared their throat.

you looked back to your girlfriend who had shuffled around to make herself comfortable, her head resting on your shoulder as her long legs tangled with yours.

"lets do some trivia today gorgeous, something different!" the blonde announced, flipping through the pages of her book as you sighed, tangling a hand in her hair and scratching at her scalp like you knew she loved.

"oh thats lovely, thank you." alessia all but melted into a puddle and patted your thigh as she pushed her hips up to grab out a pen from her back pocket. "you're such a dork." you smiled affectionately, her head swiveling to glare up at you.

"am not! if i have to watch those stupid nerdy elf movies of yours you can do a few puzzles with me to keep your brain sharp." alessia huffed as now you glared at her.

"they are not stupid nerdy elf movies its the lord of the rings and you asked to watch them with me and leah!" you defended as alessia only hummed. "because i love you and love is about compromise."

"you fell asleep twenty minutes in anyway, as always." you rolled your eyes affectionately at the strikers habit of being unable to make it all the way through a movie without falling asleep.

"snored too." you added on with a smile as your girlfriend scribbled down an answer before smacking you in the head with her book. "less!" you huffed, trying to sit up as she pulled you back down.

"no, puzzle time." alessias head fell back to your shoulder as she moved to drop your own hand back in her hair as you couldn't help but smile, scratching away with your fingers as the taller girl sighed happily.

"cuddle party!" you barely had time to look up before a body crashed on top of you both causing you and alessia to groan, grace pulling her head up with a delighted grin. "oo trivia!" the younger girl wiggled around and made herself comfortable on your other side.

"no! mine, get your own." alessia smacked away her hands where they grabbed at your free one clearly trying to get some head scratches as well. "fine. mary!" you winced at the yell in your ear as the goalkeeper appeared.

"play with my hair and help us with this trivia please." grace requested as mary sighed like a tired parent but sat down none the less, alessia shoving the book in her face already stuck on a question.

"was this what you had in mind when they said camp was in spain?" mary mumbled with an amused smile from beside you, nodding down to the two blondes lounging about half on top of the two of you working on the trivia together with determined frowns.

"not at all."

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

12 — IN SOME SAD WAY, I ALREADY KNOW

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

“A written statement from the General himself.”

You mindlessly nod, eyes unfocused and ears ringing as you sit at the conference table, Laswell at the head with the paper in hand. Her brows are furrowed, and one of her hands rests at her hip as she reads over the paper’s contents once more.

Everything feels numb. Like your entire body’s been reset, and nothing makes sense – as if your very existence has been muffled.

Price and Ghost sit at the table, too, sharing looks with each other. The Sergeants are out training rookies – and a small, minute part of you is grateful. You don’t want them to see you so…

Whatever you are. Numb, cold, unfeeling. Any adjective that fits.

“Shepherd traded her,” Price seethes, knuckles whitening on the tight grip he has around his pack of cigars. 

“But why?” Laswell asks, exasperated, pacing at the front of the conference room. The overhead beams have been left off, so the frosted window is the only source of light. It allows a soft, gentle glow from the moon to fill the room, and it helps with your racing mind.

“We need to find him,” Ghost demands, voice gruff and icy. Thinly veiled anger – you recognise the tone all too well. 

“This gives us evidence to push the search further,” Laswell cuts in, her footfalls pausing as she searches the scrawled handwriting for something. “And it opens up a new trail. Why did Graves want you? And what did Shepherd deem worthy of trading his star soldier?”

Your leg’s bouncing, the soft tap tap tap of your foot against the linoleum floor sounding more like a ticking time bomb than anything.

When you look up from the table, your eyes instantly clash with a pair of dark brown. Ghost.

He’s watching you – something hidden behind his gaze that you can’t unpack. Not now, at least, with your mind racing at a million thoughts per hour. With your body feeling as sensitive as a live wire. Every breath feels manual, a feat in and of itself.

You break your eye contact with him suddenly, weary, looking to the window instead. The moon isn’t so complicated; doesn’t hold so many layers of darkness, both in colour and soul.

There’s nothing like the feeling of moonlight against your skin, the brush of nightly breezes against your chilled skin.

“Sweetheart –” Your attention instantly goes to Price, whose hands are clasped on the table, gaze heavy where it sits on you, “Do you know anything at all that could help us. Any leads.”

You go to open your mouth, but everything feels wrong, your stomach sinking and hands trembling and vision going blurry.

Without any thought, or reason, you abruptly stand, slightly shaky on your feet. You swallow, once, a difficult movement against your barren throat. Scratchy and harsh.

“I – I’m sorry, I need a moment,” you manage to mutter out, taking a step back in a shadow of defence.

Brows furrow, a question’s asked – you don’t hear, don’t see, because all you can do is turn and bolt out of the room, shouldering the door open and heading down the hospital light-white corridor, the white burning your vision.

Your eyes sting with unshed tears, your chest heaving, the echoing sound of your boots against the floor a distant soundtrack.

“Fuck,” you mutter, palms coming up to rub harshly at your face as you slow, unsure. You just need space, a moment to yourself, a place to break apart with no one as your witness.

A slightly ajar closet to your left seems like your best bet.

Heading for it, you push in, the stale scent of cleaning products hitting your nose. It’s difficult to find any part of you that cares in the slightest.

The door closes, and you just stand, for a moment, your head resting against the wood. Every breath rattles your bones, like your core is falling apart at its seams. Another breath. Two more.

Except it’s getting harder, with every breath, to fill your lungs. They come out harried, shallow and not unlike slices of a knife against your windpipe. They tear from your mouth like coughs.

Your back hits the wall, and you slide down, until you’re sat on the floor, head sat between your bent knees as the first tears finally fall down your cheeks. Hiccups leave your chapped lips, and you squeeze your eyes shut as your shoulders shake.

You haven’t allowed yourself to break down like this in... Gods, you can’t even remember. All you know is that it hurts, at your very core, but it’s also kind of freeing.

It’s as if your world is closing in around you; your breaths doing nothing to quell that intense sense of suffocation, cruel in the grasp your fear has around your throat. Nothing makes sense – everything hurts, your tears leave lines of heat down your cheeks –

The door creaks open.

Heart stuttering in your chest, you look up from your balled up frame with blurry vision, to see who your intruder is. Did Gaz or Soap leave the rookies early? Did Price or Laswell get worried and come check on you?

“Sweetheart.”

The tall, threatening frame of the man fills out the small crack of the door in a way that has your breath catching for a whole other reason.

“Ghost?” You find yourself asking, your voice threatening a whine with the state you’re in. 

He steps in, the scent of blood and some cologne filling the space as he does. You wipe at your bloodshot eyes, curling in closer.

“If you want to kill me, this is probably your best bet,” you bite, posturing, an attempt of goading so your image isn’t completely ruined. The idea isn’t completely unfound, either – he very well could pull out his gun and shoot you clean through the head.

He shakes his head, closing the door – allowing pitch black to envelop you both.

“You’re too cheeky for your own good,” he mutters, and despite all of your notions of the man, he slides into a sitting position next to you.

If you could stabilise your breaths, you would, if for no other fact than your own embarrassment. Your body still trembles, and small hiccups still leave your lips with every shaky breath.

His presence is warm against yours, and when he moves, the fabric of his uniform brushes against your own.

“Why are you here?” You find yourself asking, a whisper under your breath. Just loud enough for him to hear, for him to hear the fragile undertone. The risk you’re taking, sitting beside him in this state. 

He looses a breath – easy, soft. Unlike everything you know about the hulking man. “I understand.”

You can’t help the uneasy chuckle that leaves your lips. “You understand? Mister been-conspiring-against-me-since-day-one?”

“I understand what it’s like to have the weight of the world on your shoulders, with no one you trust there to hold you, too.”

You look to him, but in the darkness, it’s more of an instinctual act than anything. 

“Didn’t realise you were a poet, Lieutenant,” you chide, voice breaking slightly around the syllables. He doesn’t comment; a small mercy.

He shrugs, brushing against you as he does. “Not a poet. Just a soldier.”

“And an asshole,” you hum, and you can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes you when he elbows you in the dip of your waist. You elbow him back, unthinkingly, freely.

Silence fills in the gaps, except for the background noise of your shaky, tight breathing, and the bounce of your knees.

That is, until the man beside you breaks it.

“I asked my dog what two minus two is,” Ghost says, easily. You loosen your posture, just slightly, brows furrowed when you turn your head towards him once more.

“What are you on about?” You ask, incredulous. He shrugs. Nods.

“I asked my dog what two minus two is,” he continues, despite the confusion that is surely emanating off of you. “She said nothing.”

You let out a shocked, lost bark of a laugh at that, turning your body around so you’re facing him in the enclosed space. “Was that a dad joke?”

“I found out why my dog’s such a bad dancer,” Ghost starts once more, continuing despite your elongated groan. Seems to relish in your dismay.

“And why’s that?” You entertain him, despite the anxiety in your gut, the words left unsaid burning your tongue.

“She’s got two left feet.”

You heave a sigh, shaking your head – but the corners of your lips pull into a cheesy grin, and your breaths are lighter. Easier, natural, less harsh against your dry throat. “Do you even have a dog?” You ask.

“Her name’s Riley. She’s my family,” he says, earnestly, and your heart shatters just a bit more.

“What breed is she?”

“German Shepherd. Used to work in the military, till a mission gone wrong left her too scared to work in the field. Saved ‘er from the pound.”

How can this man be the same one who threatened your life? Who – who had made it very clear how little he trusted you, and was generally such a jerk? A complete asshole, of whom you had no qualms hating?

“She’d like you,” he adds, and you blink, “Always did like girls more than guys. Strong ones, at that.”

“You think I’m strong?”

You can tell he rolls his eyes, even without being able to see it. “I’ll bring ‘er in, when this is all said and done.”

“When this is all said and done, we’ll probably never see each other again. Small mercies, hey?” Your tone takes on a joking lilt.

He doesn’t laugh.

And it hits you, then. How fragile this very situation is. How unimportant, in the real scheme of things, your relationship with the 141 is. When Graves and Shepherd have been dealt with, where do you fit in? What purpose will you have?

You don’t, can’t, truly fit in with them. They’re already so interconnected, memories spent together that you’ll never understand, connections you have no place in joining.

Oh, what a stab in the gut that is.

“I can get Johnny or Kyle if you want,” Ghost offers, but you find yourself answering just this side of too soon.

“No.”

You realise, as you sit here beside him, that he is all you need. Soap and Gaz would’ve tried to ramble or make a move on you, Price would’ve tried to embrace you. Ghost just sits, and waits, his presence speaking a thousand words. He’s your anchor, right now.

“What does a bee use to brush its hair?” Ghost breaks the quiet, once more, his words steady and grating with the low timbre of his voice.

You exhale, but go along with it anyways. “I haven’t a clue.”

“A honeycomb.”

You scoff, but the smile on your face doesn’t waver – your cheeks hurting from the way it tugs on the muscles of your tired face. “That was awful, Lt.”

“Johnny laughed at that one,” he replies, head tilted to rest his skull against the wall. His arms rest on the bends of his knees.

“That’s cause he feels bad for you,” you hum, satisfaction weighing on your words.

Ghost elbows you once more, a bit too hard, but you find the movement grounding more than harmful. Like a way for your body to come back to itself, and register the world around you. No need for self-destruction or derealisation.

“They really like you, y’know,” he murmurs, and your breath pauses in your chest. “The Sergeants. Won’t shut up about you when you’re gone.”

“Well, if you’re gonna hate me, some support is nice,” you retort, and he huffs a low breath. Pauses, like he’s thinking something over. Weighing the risk and reward of his next statement.

“I don’t,” he rolls his tongue in his mouth, “I don’t hate you.”

“You’ve had me fooled,” you retort, the cool wall against your cheek a steady reminder of the world. “The whole threatening to kill me thing, and all.”

“If it means protecting Johnny, Kyle – even Price, I’d do it. Still will,” he says, the last statement bordering on a warning. “If you’ve somehow fooled us all, then I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

You swallow. Scratch at the skin of your wrist.

“I just need to figure this shit out,” you admit, looking to the roof for answers. “Once Shadow Company’s been taken down, and Shepherd’s dealt with, everything can go back to normal. This’ll just be a blip in time.”

“The Sergeants aren’t going to let you go,” Ghost warns, an edge to his words. “What are you gonna do, anyways? Live in the countryside?”

“I don’t know,” you confess, picking at your fingernails. “I’ll figure it out when it comes to it. We’ve got bigger things on our plate.”

With his shoulder pressed against your own, you let your body relax, your breaths finally even. No tears on the verge of falling down your cheeks – and no fear lacing your veins with a thick coat of adrenaline.

However, that short-lived relief is quickly replaced with the all too familiar crash.

Your head pounds, and your limbs suddenly feel heavy. Your eyelids threaten to close, even though you don’t feel the need to sleep.

“Tired?” Ghost asks, low and soft, careful not to startle you. So at odds with the idea you had of him.

Without meaning to, you lean further against him, using his frame to hold your own up. He doesn’t comment on it. “I’m – just need a minute,” you murmur.

His hand moves to rest at the side of your head, pulling you in so your temple rests against his shoulder. It’s warm, comforting – a parallel to the man of which you thought you hated.

Rest comes easy, at the side of one of the men who wants to kill you.

*

When you come to, it’s with the feeling of fingers brushing through your hair, and the scent of cajun.

The gentle mid-morning light filters into the room, casting light through your closed eyes, the faraway sound of bullets being fired an odd comfort. Soft sizzling, too, can be heard, as well as the chopping of a knife against a board.

“That smells bloody divine, Si,” a familiar, Scottish voice calls, quietened by what you can only suspect is due to your ‘sleeping’. “Ya’d be a bonnie housewife.”

“Watch it, Johnny,” Ghost replies, stern, even with the undercurrent of humour in his voice. 

The fingers in your hair continue to card through your strands, pausing to massage at your scalp every now and then. The movements have you melting further into Soap’s lap.

“Ken the other two are goin’ at it?” Johnny chides, and even without vision, you can see the goading smile on his face.

“I ken you should shut your face,” Ghost retorts, the sound of chopping finally coming to a pause. “And, no, you’re a bloody idiot.”

“Rude.”

Fluttering your eyes open, you let out a small huff of air, stretching your tense muscles. They feel sore with lethargy, and stiff from the position you fell asleep in.

“Mornin’, Sweetheart,” Johnny smirks, looking down at where your head sits in his lap.

When you look towards the kitchen, it's to find Ghost, flipper in hand as he stands by the stove, a glass bowl filled with salad to his side. One thing in particular has you looking twice.

“A bit promiscuous, don't you think, Lieutenant?”

Ghost's eyes narrow, but Soap lets out a pleased chuckle. “Like a lad seein’ an ankle, aye?”

Instead of gloves, the pale skin of his hands is shown for the first time, patterns of ink decorating the back of his hands. The small hint of a sleeve has you desperate to see the full thing.

“You're both fuckin’ ridiculous,” Ghost scoffs, starting to swap the contents of the pan into the salad bowl.

As you move to sit up, Soap’s hands fall to your waist, pulling you so your back presses against his chest. His thumbs trace circles into the skin where your shirt rides up, but it’s more out of instinct than anything else.

“What’d you make us?” You ask, rubbing at your weary, sleepy eyes as you deflate against Soap.

“Cajun chicken ‘nd salad,” Ghost quips, serving up a plate for each of you. It smells nothing short of delicious, and you sit up straighter against the Sergeant.

“Lt and Gaz are our personal chefs,” Soap chimes, squeezing you tighter against him. “Bloody perfect at it.”

Ghost rolls his eyes, but comes over with two plates, setting them on the coffee table in front of both you and Soap. It’s a small space, next to the personal kitchen, but it’s nice. Intimate.

The first mouthful of salad is like heaven on your tongue, and you look up at Ghost with wide eyes as you swallow. “This is amazing.”

“You’d better eat it all then,” he jerks his chin towards your plate, grabbing his own before sitting on the chair to your left. Soap, still with his chest to your back, shovels his food into his mouth like a man starved.

It’s quiet, for a few moments, just the three of you enjoying your food.

“What’s the next step?” Johnny asks, around a mouthful. You elbow him in the side, and he feigns hurt. He swallows, before continuing, “Aye mean, what’re we gonna do? What lead do we follow?”

“I think,” you work your jaw around the words, thinking, “I think if we get to the root, we can bring down the whole tree.”

You scan the two men, and it’s Ghost who understands your words first.

“Shepherd. You think we should take him out first,” Ghost leans back in his seat, studying you with calculating, chocolate brown eyes. They shine in the midday light.

Nodding, you swallow around some lettuce, before continuing, looking between the two. 

“If we can find Shepherd, and learn why everything’s happened the way it has,” you rub at your face, “Then we can bring it all crumbling down. Like dominoes.”

“He’s MIA,” Soap furrows his brows, placing his empty plate on the coffee table. “We’ve tried finding the twat – he’s gone.”

You shrug, a plan forming in your mind like the final pieces of a puzzle connecting. A small, pleased smile spreads on your lips, before you’re moving off of the couch, ready to head to Price’s office.

“Where’s you going?” Ghost queries, leaning forward, elbows resting on his spread knees.

You tilt your head.

“Power in numbers, right?” Heading for the corridor, you open the door, before turning back to look at the two men one more time.

“I know two soldiers who’ve been waiting for a call.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19 @infpt-zylith @marispunk @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @xvintageghostx @thigh-o-saur

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐙 𖥔

the second the water began to seep through the front of your shirt, you leaped from your spot on steve's bed so to not spill any on his sheets. you had warned him you were a clutz when he handed you the glass of water, but he insisted that you would be fine. oh how wrong he was.

"shit, shit, shit," you exclaim, pulling the material away from your skin but it was no use, your shirt was already completely soaked through. "i told you this would happen."

steve remains on his bed, struggling to hold back the chuckle that falls from his lips. even covering his mouth with his hand, but you were simply too cute when you were annoyed.

"it's not funny!" you whine, pouting your lips and softly stamping your foot.

he raises his hands in defence, "alright, alright, i'll go grab you a towel."

you watch as he leaves, and as you stand there holding your shirt out and off your skin, your gaze falls upon steve's closet and his array of shirts that were so neatly hung. surely he wouldn't mind if you were to borrow one, right?

deciding it would be fine, you sift through his clothes until you find one of his sweaters that you loved so much on him and replace it with your own shirt.

as you pull the material over your head, steve returns with a towel and immediately notices the sudden change in your outfit. he stares with a pointed finger, "is that my shirt?"

you take one look at your shirt that now lays on the floor, "you were the one that said i would be fine despite knowing how much of a clutz i am, so... yes, this is your shirt."

you watch as a smile slowly forms on his face and he says, adoringly, "okay, that's fair. you are my clutz after all."

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 21: Hair Pulling - Bucky/Natasha

Summary: Natasha is teaching you self-defence, and in your rush to beat her, you pull her hair which she finds a dirty move and seeks to find her revenge

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, threesome (f/f/m), hair pulling, revenge, sex toy (strap on), edging, rough sex, masturbation, oral sex, fingering

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“Come on, I’ve taught you enough defensive moves that you can take me on. Just give it a try. I promise I won’t hurt you”, Natasha tries to convince you, goading from where she stood in the middle of the training mat, with Bucky to the edge with a punching bag, watching from the corner of his eye with a sly smirk.

The room was rancid with the heat, humid and sweaty, which only made you feel more disorientated, wishing to be anywhere but in the training room with your partners. It was their safe place that they felt comfortable within; you, on the other hand, were not an Avenger or agent and therefore found it intimidating to walk into somewhere like this.

Wiping away the sweat drips forming on your upper lip, you gave Natasha an exacerbated expression, explaining, “It’s not me that I’m scared of being hurt. What if I accidentally hurt you or something?”.

In all her beauty, Natasha rolled her shoulders back, a tank top and tight fighting grey shorts, her shoulder-length hair clipped at the back of her head. Even dressed down, she looked deadly, which only made you feel even more belittled when she openly laughed at your worries, her head tilting back as she clutched her middle.

Rolling your eyes, you tapped your foot against the floor in frustration, waiting for her to stop blatantly laughing at you. “Sorry, I don't mean to laugh, it’s just- I think I’ll be just fine, don’t worry about hurting me. Now come on, give it a go”, she encouraged with a rejuvenated energy, holding her clenched fists in front of her face.

You tried to remain neutral and not display the embarrassment that you truly felt at Natasha laughing at her confidence that you’d never be able to hurt her. You didn’t mean it in the way of being highly trained like her, but due to your lack of training, you didn't want to make a move incorrectly and cause her to fall awkwardly.

Deciding it was easier just to get on with it so that you could escape the hell hole that was the Avengers gym, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your pounding heart and then raised your fists in preparation. Natasha attacked first, and thankfully, she’d taught you enough to drop and roll out of her way.

Thankfully, she held back enough that you could keep up with the restrained punches. Occasionally, you even surprised yourself with a few moves that Bucky had been teaching you on the side, which earned a hearty cheer from the ex-assassin. The more tired you became, Natasha encouraged more from you, trying to push you to the very limit of your athleticism.

Somehow, the two of you were tussled onto the floor; you were frustrated, tired and ready for it all to be over. As Nat hooked her leg around your waist to gain control, you released a frustrated scream that echoed around the room's four walls. The pain burned across your calf as you were beginning to be bent into an odd shape by Natasha besting you in the play fight. You reached out with your hand, grabbing for any part of her that you could find, which ended up being her tied-up hair.

Without thinking of the consequences, you gripped her ponytail and pulled, her head following the motion as it twisted at an awkward angle, her body releasing its hold on yours so she could shove your hand away.

You’d never heard her shout in pain before, let alone because it was caused by your hand. Rolling over so that you were face to face with your grimacing girlfriend who was rubbing her sore head, you panicked, grabbing her face to inspect her. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

Natasha squinted her eyes occasionally as she grumbled, “Did you just pull my hair?”

Bucky was having the time of his life if his outright belly laughs were anything to go by. Ignoring him, your fingers dropped from her face, unsure whether her expression was one of dumbfounded shock or plotting her revenge. “Sorry, I don’t know why I grabbed your hair; that was such a dirty move. I was just getting so frustrated, and I’m hot and-” You took a calming breath as you could feel yourself beginning to freak out. “Does it still hurt? Can I check your scalp?”

Your finger slipped through the air as Natasha batted your hands away. “It’s fine, Sugar, chill out, will you? I just didn’t realise we were fighting like that, that’s all”.

You sigh, shoulders dropping with the guilt of hurting your girlfriend, rubbing a heavy hand over your face to wipe more of the sweat that had formed. As Natasha repositioned herself into a squat, arms spread like she was ready to tackle you to the ground, you quickly shook your head, “Can we please stop? You know I hate training. I’m not any good at it, and I’ve already hurt you”.

Nat shrugs, standing and then patting the tender area of her head. “Yeah, we can stop, but only because my head is pounding”. You stand abruptly, rushing forward to check her over, but stop upon realising that she had been joking. Sticking out your bottom lip for emphasis, Natasha saunters forward, closing the gap between the two as her arms wrap around your neck. Kissing your pout, she tickles the sensitive skin at the base of your neck with her manicured nails. “You’ve improved, so I don’t know why you’re so apprehensive to spar with me. At least next time, I’ll be more prepared if you’re going to fight dirty by pulling my hair”.

Without giving you the option to respond, Natasha walks off to the other side of the room, her hips swaying and capturing your attention, distracting you from the subtle threat she’d made.

“You’re in for it now; I hope you’re aware of that”, Bucky casually remarks as his sweaty arm drapes heavily over your shoulders, tugging you into his side as he kisses your temple, watching Natasha walk with just as much lust in his eyes.

Groaning as your arms wrapped around his waist, you agree, “I know, I’m dreading it. Maybe I should stay in a hotel tonight”.

“I probably would if I were you. I’d hate to have a target on my back from the infamous Black Widow”, Bucky taunted and then laughed at your dramatic whine, hiding your face in his sweaty tank top.

Hours later, Natasha Romanoff was finding her revenge, much to your dismay.

Your knees ached from being on all fours as Natasha railed you with the pink strap on. The girthy dildo is as deep as it could go, causing your thighs to tremble as you tried to accommodate her rough thrusts. However, the tightness of her fingers on your hips kept you steady and in position to receive each rut of her hips.

Bucky, on the other hand, was having a great time, watching his girls from where he was sitting in a chair beside the bed, his hand wrapped around his cock.

“You like this Sugar? Like my pretty cock fucking you?” Natasha asks with a powerful thrust for emphasis.

You groan deeply, gripping the sheets so tightly in your fists that your knuckles ached. “Feels so fucking good; please let me cum. I’m so close”, you begged her desperately.

“Yeah? You think you serve to cum?” she asks as you bury your face into the mattress, trying to calm the fire in the pit of your abdomen as your body moves in time with hers, rocking back and forth on the bed.

“Yes! Please let me cum; I’ve been so good. I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to”.

Instead of a verbal answer, you’re welcomed with a burning, sharp pain in your scalp as she pulls your hair harshly, your body contorting so that your upper body is pulled up with it until you face Bucky, arms extended to keep yourself upright.

With the new position, the dildo shifted even deeper, prodding against your g-spot. Natasha was also able to bend her head so that her mouth pressed against your cheek as the grip on your hair didn’t falter.

“You really think you deserve to cum after earlier? Pulling my hair like that was a cheap, dirty move”.

Before you could cry out again, Bucky entered your field of vision as he smirked knowingly, “I did warn you she’d get back at you for earlier”.

With him there, you could rest your hands on his shoulders, making it a little easier to stay in the upright position, and the tension on the hair being pulled relaxed slightly, but Natasha didn’t let go. Bucky wanted to join the sexual torture, deciding it was a good idea to reach between your thighs and begin to rub your throbbing clit between his thumb and index finger.

Both of your partners knew this would be your undoing as clitoral stimulation was usually your weak spot when being edged, finding that tightening becoming almost overwhelming. “Please! Please, I’m begging you, Natasha, please, can I cum?”

Her first answer is to bite the lobe of your ear, the pain and pleasure tingling to your core as she pondered for three deep thrusts before deciding, “Nope”.

Your cry of desperation thankfully had Bucky ceasing with his clit stimulation. However, that ache remained, but you tried to distract yourself, pleading with your body not to react of its own accord and orgasm without permission.

However, then the man in front of you is shifting so that he now stands on the bed, your hands resting on his hips to keep yourself upright still. His proud cock was now pressed against your cheek as he took over the hair holding from Natasha, directing your mouth to the tip of his precum-leaking dick.

“Open for me, Doll”, Bucky instructed as his hand on the back of your head pushed so that the second your mouth was open, his cock was breaching your lips. Your tongue stroked the underside of his cock as he didn’t hold back, fucking your mouth with deep thrusts that matched the timing of Natashas.

The two of them used your body, filling you up and pulling out, emptying you for only a moment and then pushing back in. Tears were lining your eyes from the harshness of Bucky’s thrusts, lungs burning to match the pain thumping in your scalp, but they knew you loved it if the wetness dripping down your thigh was anything to go by.

Bucky pulls on your hair, forcing your mouth off his length so that you’re staring up at him, glassy-eyed and tongue dripping with drool - one of his favourite sights as his cock visibly throbbed before you.

“So pretty”, Bucky admired for a glorious moment before looking at the woman still pounding into you from behind. “It’s lonely up here. Why don’t you join me”.

You could have sobbed as Natasha’s dildo slipped out of your hole that was fluttering, trying to chase the orgasm. The red-haired assassin stood on the bed, joining Bucky and beginning to make out above you, their tongues clashing and teeth lipping on lips.

You whined, wanting to join in the action, but the hand on the back of your head just encouraged you to suck Bucky off again. Happily, your mouth opened and sucked in pulses around his length that again pushed to the back of your throat.

Natasha whimpered, catching your attention as you looked up at them to see Bucky had slipped his metal fingers into her pussy, delving beneath the harness to curl against her sweet spot. You watched in amazement, Bucky’s cock bulging and salty at the tip where he continued to leak his juices and Natasha rocking her hips in time with Bucky’s fingers, one hand pleasuring one girlfriend and the other holding you still so he could lazily fuck your throat.

Natasha’s hand then joins Bucky’s on the back of your head, pushing harder so that you suck him off with more urgency. However, it was Natasha who came first, her knees buckling and cheeks blushing as she sang her praises to Bucky through her orgasm.

You couldn’t help but moan at the beautiful sight. However, it was Bucky who was the loudest as your throat tightened and vibrated with your moaning.

Bucky licked his fingers that had just been inside Natasha, who was now unbuckling the harness, finding the straps to overstimulating on her pussy, before lying down against the pillows.

Once more, your scalp throbbed as Bucky pulled your face off his length. “Go and make her cum, and I’ll let you cum”, he demands, taking over the dominance as he nods towards Natasha and releases his hold on your hair.

You nod enthusiastically, licking your lips, turning on wobbly knees, and crawling over to Natasha, who is grinning at you, showing her straight pearly teeth. As you positioned yourself on your stomach between her legs, Natasha showed her softer side as her fingers gently massaged your scalp, easing some of the tension from all the hair-pulling.

Both of your arms wrap around her thighs, positioning her legs over your shoulders before delving in. She was already drenched from Bucky’s fingers, so you licked and swallowed all of it before pushing the tip of your tongue into her seeping cunt.

Even though Natasha had started softly, her grip tightened increasingly with each suck and lick until her hand was once more holding onto a clump of your hair, pulling on it fiercely so that she could keep you closer. Essentially, she was riding your face, your nose brushing against her clit as your tongue flicked in and out of her hole.

Your head is pounding with the ache, but you don’t care, especially as Natasha is so evidently close to orgasm. Her eyes were closed, her back beginning to arch as more fluids gathered at her entrance, coating your tongue; her noises were almost pornographic as she ground down one more time.

Natasha's body trembled, a high-pitched gasp filling your ears as she came against your mouth. You’d never tire of seeing her like this, particularly when you made her feel this good; you could do it all day if permitted.

However, your plans to continue were blocked by a chilled metal hand sweeping down the centre of your spine as Bucky spreads your legs and moves between them.

“Good girl, you’ve done so well for us; when you feel like you need to cum, you had permission to”, Bucky wonderfully agreed as he began to fuck you without any restraint on his power.

Natasha sat up, placing your head in her lap so she could continue to massage your scalp, deciding to continue with the pleasant touches as your reward. Bucky felt just as thick as the dildo, stretching your gummy walls to perfection, taking your breath away with how pleasurable it felt to have him fucking you.

“That’s it, Sugar, I want you to cum for Bucky. I know you can do it”, Natasha encouraged as she kissed the back of your head where her fingers had massaged the ache away. Your hands rested on her hips, giving them a squeeze to show your appreciation as that euphoric feeling returned to you without any hesitation. Knowing you could cum without being teased or punished, you released an almighty cry, cunt clenching in bursts and drawing Bucky’s orgasm to the surface as he finished at the same time as you.

It took a few moments to calm down from the high enough that you could collapse onto the sheets, your pussy still fluttering and oozing with Bucky’s seed as he collapsed next to you, resting his head on his fist as he and Natasha stared down at you. Turning your head so you weren’t smothered onto the bed, your eyes remained closed.

“I would apologise for pulling your hair earlier, but I have to say, it was worth it”, you mutter under your breath, voice laced with exhaustion as Bucky and Natasha chuckled, stroking the sore area of your scalp.

“Guess you’ll have to keep playing dirty and see where it gets you”, Natasha admitted teasingly before kissing your head again.

[abbys-wifey]

GOOD PIECE OF MEAT

pairing: sevika x female reader

warnings: men.

A/N: soooo…. hey guys. i’m back-ish. i won’t be updating like regularly but i will give you guys the odd one shot. since the trailer of arcane has come out i decided to start redoing arcane oneshots so feel free to request some, i may not be able to do heaps of requests but i will do a few. sorry for abandoning you guys for so long btw i just lost my love for writing for a bit but it coming back now so yay. anyway i love sevika with my whole heart and LEMME KNOW WHAT U THINK OF THE ARCANE TRAILER IN THE COMMENTS PLEASE. i need people to talk about this with. i missed you all :))

I was freezing to say the least. The cold streets of Zaun were no place for me right now, not at this time of night, especially when I had left my jacket back at my apartment. And so I head quickly to the Last Drop making sure to stay away from the shadowy corners and avoid the lingering looks of the strangers within the musky alleys.

Finally, the dimly lit bar comes into view. Music and shouts echo outside the entrance as I walk towards it, excited to finally see the person I had been missing all day.

“Name and business?” The bouncer extends a hand out stopping me from reaching the front door, his expression lacking any sort of emotion. I hadn’t seen him before, no doubt new to this job and so blissfully unaware of who I am. “I’m here to see my girlfriend.” I frown still shivering in the outside air. “Who?” The bouncer replies crossing his arms and raising one caterpillar looking eyebrow.

“Sevika.”

Instantly his stature changes. Eyes widen in shock and his stance becomes a lot more hospitable. “Welcome to the Last Drop. You’re looking ravishing tonight.” He smiles almost too kindly and opens the door ushering me inside.

The bar smells of alcohol and sweat, nothing I hadn’t smelt before but still, not necessarily pleasant. Ignoring the scent in the air I scan the crowd till I find my girlfriend who sits with an accomplished smirk on her lips. Surrounded by four other men, she plays cards obviously winning as the others sit sullen faced or groaning in defeat.

Pushing through the sea of people I make my way over, Sevikas eyes meeting mine as I reach the table. “Hi baby.” I smile happy to finally see my girlfriend after a long day at work.

She grins throwing her cards face up onto the table eliciting groans from the other four members although her eyes stay locked on me.

“Hi princess, did you have a good day?” She reaches for my hand with her flesh one gently tugging me onto her lap and pressing a kiss to the side of my head as I face the rest of the table.

“Yeah, it was ok.” I reply looking up at her with a small smile. “I missed you though.” I whisper leaning back into her chest. Sevikas grip on my waist tightens as her thumb traces small circles around my hip bone. “Missed you too.” She grunts.

Turning my attention back to the other four at the table I can’t help but let out a small chuckle at their gobsmacked faces.

It wasn’t often I came to the Last Drop, but when I did I always gathered the same reaction. People were astonished at how I somehow had gathered the most feared women in Zauns affection. Her softness towards me especially in public made everyone turn to stare.

“So Miss Muscle Woman has herself a little pet.” One man scoffs his eyes lingering on me. I can feel Sevika tense under my body as he eyes me up again. “Well you picked good Sev, she’s a pretty one alright.” He chuckles again, looking at his mates for back up only for them to shake their heads in fear.

Both Sevikas metal hand and flesh hand softly grip my waist as she lifts me off her lap and onto the chair beside her. The bar goes silent, each and every individual looking over as Sevika stands up to her daunting six foot height in complete silence and slowly stalks round the table to stand in front of the man.

He quickly realises his mistake and holds up his hands in defence as he scurries backwards, falling from his chair. “I-I’m just saying Sev, she’s a very good looking piece of meat you know? Go-Good for you and all. I don’t want her myself but-”

It all happens rather fast. Sevika’s cape is flung off her shoulder and before I can blink the man is cut off, lifted from the ground by his throat. “Apologise to her.” She snarls menacingly as he kicks and wheezes, hands pawing at the metal that slowly carved into his neck. “Now.” Sevika barks tightening her hold causing his eyes to widen as his air way is cut off. The man manages to let out a weak sorry aimed in my direction before he’s dropped to the floor. His breath comes back all at once as he inhales deeply, clutching weakly at his throat.

“Say another word about my girl ever again and I wont make the same mistake of letting you live. Do I make myself clear?” She leans in close to the man holding the front of his shirt as she snarls at him. He nods frantically a few tears rolling down his face and onto the already purple bruise forming on his neck.

Letting his shirt go Sevika goes to stand up again before swinging her flesh fist at his face causing him to go flying backwards, blood splattering against the chair he once sat in.

“And don’t let me catch you in here again.” She shouts after him as he turns on his heel and hobbles out the bar. She smirks satisfied before turning to the rest of the onlookers. “Anyone else got something to say?” She asks, her voice low and dangerous almost daring someone to talk. Immediately everyone goes back to the previous activities trying not to bring attention to themselves.

I breathe out a sigh of relief as Sevika finally turns back to me, her flesh hand coming to land on my cheek stroking it softly as a small frown is etched on her head.

“Are you ok princess?” She asks softly. I nod. “I am now.” I smile and press a kiss to her palm. “Can we go home please ? That made me even more tired.” I ask.

Sevika nods instantly getting her cloak off the floor and reaching for my hand as we walk out the door and into the streets.

Shivering once again I move closer to my girlfriend who chuckles as I cling to her arm. “Here.” She wraps her cloak around my shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“I’m not gonna let anything hurt you princess. Not even the cold. Not while I’m around.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Big Boss

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You're the big boss

You know that you're a very important part of the Not-Wolfsburg team.

Momma and Morsa tell you that a lot but, more importantly, so does Coach Emma. Coach Emma is kind of like Momma and Morsa's boss. She tells them what to do at training and on the pitch too.

You're her assistant coach so you're kind of like Momma and Morsa's boss too.

Sometimes, when training is going to be very intense and you can't sit and watch, Coach Emma will take you to her special boss meetings. They're very boring sometimes when you have to sit and watch a match from a different team and pick them apart so you know what to tell the Not-Wolfsburg girls at the next meeting.

But you sit through them because you're an important part of the team and one of the big bosses.

"Coach y/n," Emma greets you in the morning as she brings you into her office.

"Hi, Coach Emma!" You say happily, letting her sit you on the spiny chair behind the desk. It's meant to be her seat but she always gives it to you, sitting on the other side of the desk in the not comfortable seat that naughty people sit in sometimes. "I made sure Momma and Morsa got a lot of sleep last night! We went to bed early!"

"Well done. I'll need you to make sure you get them to bed early tonight too. Our match is tomorrow."

"I can do that!"

"I know, because you're the big boss."

You giggle hysterically like every time Coach Emma reminds you. You spin around on her chair as she does paperwork before she collects you for the video reviews.

You sit in her special chair there too and give the girls your best Coach Emma look. "Be quiet!" You say firmly," This is very important!"

Morsa looks like she's about to start laughing so you wave a finger at her.

"I'm not joking!"

"Okay, princesse," Momma says," We'll all be quiet."

"Good! You have to open your listening ears and your watching eyes because this is very important," You lecture them, nodding firmly.

"Exactly right, Coach y/n," Coach Emma says as she stands at the front of the room.

●～●～●～●～

You help her out on the pitch too, during warmups and actual games.

"Run faster!" You yell, arms crossed over your chest as you wear your 'assistant coach' jersey.

The Not-Wolfsburg girls are doing their sprints. They're not doing them very well but they're doing them.

"Faster!" You yell again, stamping your foot in emphasis. "It means more fast!"

Momma breaks out of her sprint to swing you up onto her hip, kissing your cheek.

"Momma!" You whine," You can't hug me like that! I'm being the big boss!"

She laughs and Morsa comes over too, playing with the end of your braid and kissing your forehead.

"And what a good big boss you are," Morsa says," Any advice for us?"

"Play good," You say, patting them both on the cheek," And don't let them get goals."

"Excellent advice," Momma compliments, placing you down on the ground again. "Will we see you in the coaching box?"

You nod. "Uh-huh. You have to remember to do what me and Coach Emma say. 'Cause we're the big bosses."

"Yeah, you are the big boss."

Momma's right, of course. You are the big boss, something that is only proven over and over again as you stand in the coaching box, holding Coach Emma's hand tightly.

Not-Wolfsburg are doing pretty alright against...well, you didn't really know who they were playing against but they were still doing decent enough.

But Coach Emma didn't really look happy so you don't want to look happy either, crossing your arms over your chest and widening your stance to copy hers.

You could tell why though. Not-Wolfsburg would sometimes lose the ball when they didn't need to and then had to scramble to fall back into defence.

Coach Emma mutters angrily under her breath as she watches on.

"They gotta stop seventeen," You say. You don't really like her strange muttering so fill it with your own babble," She keeps running left and passing before people can get to here." You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

"You're right, kiddo," Coach Emma says.

"You gotta get them to stop her, Coach Emma," You say," Or she's gonna win. You can't let her win. Gotta focus on her."

She nods. "Absolutely. Come on, Coach y/n, let's tell them that at halftime."

Both you and Coach Emma wear angry looks as you head into the locker room.

You mimic her in everything you do and scramble to stand on the bench so you can at least be of a similar size to everyone else. You wobble a bit and steady yourself against Momma's shoulder.

"You gotta stop seventeen!" You say to the Not-Wolfsburg girls," 'Cause she's causin' problems and you need to stop her!" You're completely serious and would cross your arms over your chest to emphasise the point but you're holding onto Momma's shoulder to stay balanced while trying to squirm away from Morsa's tickling fingers.

Coach Emma takes over from where you stop and you're left with no defence as Momma swings you into her lap, cradling you like when you were a baby and allowing Morsa to pull up your top and tickle your stomach.

"Alright, big boss," Momma says as halftime comes to an end and she lifts you so you're sitting upright again," Anything you need to tell us?"

You think for a moment. "Play good," You say," And stop seventeen...And...And...Good luck kisses!"

You grab at Momma's cheeks to press a sloppy kiss to her forehead before repeating the action on Morsa.

"Thanks, princesse," Morsa says when you pull back.

You give her a disgruntled look. "I'm the big boss right now, Morsa! You can't call me that!"

Morsa chuckles and Momma runs a hand through your hair fondly.

"Sorry, boss. When can I call you princesse again?"

You think for a moment then nod in satisfaction at your answer," When you win."

"Well, Magda," Momma says with a laugh at the look of disbelief on Morsa's face," It looks like you've got to sort out that pesky number seventeen."

"It looks like you need to score some more goals."

You stamp your foot and point to the door. "Come on!"

"Okay, boss."

[aviiarie]

TO YOUR DEFENSE — chiori x fem!reader !

synopsis. chiori's partner is disrespected, and there isn't a chance she is letting it slide. warnings. n/a notes. established relationship. fem!reader. 1k words. i love her. so much. dedicated to @tragedy-of-commons who i brainrotted with about this idea <3

Chiori is by no means a soft woman. Of course, she is perfectly capable of it when the right situation calls for it. And when the situation pertains to you—her cherished lover—she can deign to spare a measured amount of gentleness for your sake, but only a fool would mistake that for weakness.

Her newest client—a bald, bespectacled man interested in a new tailored suit and little else—seems to be exactly that: a fool.

“Apologize. Now.” Chiori’s tone is as sharp and cutting as the blade of her sword, making the man visibly shiver.

“I-I didn’t—Mademoiselle Chiori!” He stumbles over his words, losing any semblance of composure that he entered the store with. There was none of the bravado he held earlier, none of the confidence that had earned him her fury in the first place. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I-I simply—”

“Simply what?” Chiori’s eyes narrow, her face darkening further. “You simply thought it was appropriate to treat my partner with such blatant disrespect right in front of my eyes? You simply decided she was a sales assistant, and assumed that made it acceptable to order her around? You simply chose to tell her to make herself useful, and get you a tie in a different colour?”

The man flinches as his words are spat back at him, stuttering and stammering to try and pull together some sort of defence. It is a feeble attempt, and one that is quickly shut down.

“Quiet.” Chiori says harshly, cutting off the rest of his spluttering. “You will be quiet, and you will listen to what I have to say. Am I understood?”

The man nodded jerkily, looking like a skittish animal. The sight was rather pathetic, he was a foot taller than her and almost twice her size, but he still cowered at her piercing gaze.

“Not only have you falsely assumed that my partner—who has so graciously offered to assist me today, when you chose to delay your fitting appointment until an hour before closing—was a mere sales assistant, instead of politely requesting she retrieve an item for you, you decided to snap at her.”

Chiori took a pause, studying the man’s expression. It was almost laughable how much a grown man could so closely resemble a kicked puppy; perhaps she would have found humour in the sight, had she not been seething from head to toe with a burning anger.

“Treating my boutique like you can come and go as you please is one thing. But treating my lover like she is a worthless, lowly servant is something else. You have not just crossed the line; you have trampled all over it in those hideous dress shoes of yours. How dare you carry yourself with such arrogance, when you do not have even the common decency to speak to others with even a shred of politeness? You are not only an impolite, bad-tempered man, but a cowardly one at that.”

With every word, his head bows lower. It’s hard to tell if the action was out of genuine remorse, or shame that he was being scolded like a misbehaving schoolboy, but judging by his actions, Chiori could safely assume it was the latter.

“You—” Her eyes drift over to the side where you stood at the side of the store, watching the scene play out with an uncomfortable expression. If she were dealing with a disrespectful customer alone, she would not have hesitated to tear into him even further until he was a shivering mess of apologies at her feet, but the way you looked like you wanted to be anywhere else made her pause.

Even if she was defending you, your comfort was her priority. She bit back the insult on her lips, forcing her words to change their course.

“—You are going to apologize to my partner. Then, you are going to leave this store, and never return. You are not welcome at Chioriya Boutique anymore, and you will be blacklisted for life. I do not ever want to see your pathetic face again, but if I hear that you are treating any other sales worker the way you treated my partner today…”

Chiori didn’t finish her sentence, but the threat was clear. It hung in the air between them, causing the man to turn pale.

“O-Of course. I sincerely apologize, Mademoiselle—” The man turned to you, clasping his hands together. “I am truly sorry!”

“Go.” Chiori’s face twists in disgust. She steps away from the man, looking him up and down like he was nothing more than dirt beneath her shoe. “And do not come back.”

“Y-Yes, of course…” He bobs his head in a nod, face still struck with fear. He backs out of the boutique, as fast as his legs could take him.

Once he is out of sight, the anger melts off Chiori like snow falling from a roof. She turns to properly face you, her hand moving up to gently cup your cheek. “Apologies, that wasn’t something you should have had to witness. Are you alright, my love?”

You nod slowly, leaning into her hand. “I’m fine…”

She clicks her tongue. Her hand moves down your cheek, sliding all the way down your shoulder to rest on your waist. “Don’t lie to me. You look shaken.”

“I’m fine, really.” You insist, forcing a small smile. “Thank you… for defending my honour.”

Chiori’s face softens. She uses her hand at your waist to pull you closer until you were almost flush against her chest, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “It is no problem, darling. Some people just don’t seem to understand manners until they are beaten over the head with them.”

You laugh lightly, and the sound is like a melody to her ears. She hums, pulling herself out of the embrace long enough to flick the open sign to closed.

“Let’s go home, love.” Chiori pulls your hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to each of the knuckles. “Let’s forget all about what happened.”

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[chronicowboy]

When Connor finally comes over to the loft, Buck can only think thank god.

Its not that he doesn't like Kameron, he actually really enjoys her company. She's funny and bubbly and enjoys learning whatever new facts he'd found on Wikipedia that day and she has killer commentary for shitty reality TV.

Its not even the whole pregnant thing. He laughs when she balances her plate on her belly and he always braves her adventures in craving combinations even if it ends with him gagging and swearing never to eat tuna or jelly ever again - sidenote: chips and whipped cream is a new go-to snack.

He's just fed up of feeling like a perpetual roommate in his own apartment yet again. And his couch fucking sucks.

Also, like, its great that Connor and Kameron are starting to talk things through.

But his couch sucks.

So, when Connor comes over looking sheepish and apologetic, Buck welcomes him in with a smile. Kameron... not so much.

"I'm... gonna head upstairs," Buck mumbles into the awkward silence of the kitchen, "and get into my running gear." He nods once before fleeing up to his bedroom.

Buck dives for his headphones when their hushed voices start hissing at each other, connecting them up to his phone with fast hands and blasting his workout playlist as loud as he can bear. He strips efficiently, pulling on a pair of shorts and a tank top in the bathroom when the voices get louder. Then he's rushing downstairs and grabbing his sneakers, wondering if it would be wise to run all the way to Eddie's house.

His hand is an inch away from the doorknob when Connor stops him. With a silent sigh, Buck pops a headphone out and turns to face the scene in front of him.

Kameron is leaning on the kitchen island, palms flat against the marble, fingers curled under her hands, head hung low. Connor is wide-eyed and pleading, his grip on Buck's wrist tight and unyielding as he keeps him fixed to his spot.

"Buck, tell me you could raise a kid that wasn't yours," he begs, something frantic to his voice. Buck thinks he recognises the fear in Connor's eyes, thinks it looks a lot like Chimney haunting the loft weeks after Hen and Eddie had returned home. Not a fear of covid or DNA, but a fear of fatherhood cloaked in a thousand defences. "Tell me that it wouldn't bug you every single day."

Buck blinks. He opens his mouth, but something thick and cloying crawls up his throat and stops the words from coming out.

He sees flashes. Too-long curls and crutches and glasses. Nights spent huddled on a couch in front of the same shitty kid's film that Buck would happily watch a hundred times over, days spent hunched over worksheets at the dining table, mornings heavy with sleep but light with joy. Trips to the zoo, visits to the aquarium, tours of the observatory. Nightmares and tears and a run away on his doorstep. Sodden clothes and clasped hands and such visceral fear that Buck had thought he was dying. Saying no to one last game, mixing veggies into the sauce, putting his foot down on screen time. A bag full of pharmacy supplies and the tiles of the bathroom floor cold under him and growing pains Buck feels in his old bones.

"It wouldn't," Buck croaks, it feels a lot like a confession. "My captain has been more of a dad to me than my father ever was." Buck shakes his head, shrugs. "Its not about DNA, Connor, its about love."

"But." Connor's chest heaves with panicked breaths. "So, you'd do it? You'd raise another man's kid?"

Buck recognises the fear again, but this time its his own. Connor is feeling the same fear that had Buck staggering through the ravaged streets of Los Angeles. The same fear that had Buck withdrawing, trying to chase Eddie and Christopher out of the door with a list of all his sins. The same fear that had Buck reminding Eddie of Christopher's biological family. The fear Buck feels every time he has to say goodbye to Chris.

Its then that Buck's phone buzzes. He glances down at the new notification. A picture of Eddie scowling down at a cookbook captioned uh oh - backup needed ASAP.

"Oh," Buck breathes down at the screen.

All the flashes suddenly comes together, one beautiful mosaic of parental devotion.

Buck remembers the way Chimney's dad's words had lodged something sharp and painful into his chest, remembers wondering why. He remembers a quiet conversation on opposite sides of a hospital bed, remembers wondering why me. He remembers scribbling hearts together for an assignment, remembers its his turn to save you. He remembers wondering if he could be a donor not dad and Eddie asking if he knew any of Christopher's secrets.

"Buck?" Connor prompts.

"I'd do it," Buck says, only looking up from his phone when it fades to black. When he says it, it sounds a lot like you know I wouldn't. "Because... even though that kid might not be my blood, he'd still be mine," here, his voice cracks right down the middle. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

"What? Buck!"

"Sorry." Buck yanks the door open and looks over his shoulder with an apologetic shrug. "My kid needs me."

[loveinhawkins]

The first notes of Eddie’s guitar solo tear through The Upside Down; Steve watches in horrified fascination as the bats follow the noise, as they form a thick, black cloud, like a plague of locusts.

And it hits him then that he simply cannot set one foot inside the Creel House.

“Nance,” he says. His voice cracks.

She turns to look at him, and suddenly she isn’t a vengeful warrior with a sawn-off shotgun: she’s just a girl who lost her best friend, who has spent years haunted by ‘what if…?’

“Trust your gut,” she says firmly, and that’s all he needs.

He spends a fleeting second squeezing Robin’s hand, just to steady him, and then he’s running back to the trailer.

The one thing that reassures him is that Eddie and Dustin are perfectly on time, the song cutting off just as they planned. Now run, you two, Steve thinks, as his chest burns with the effort, get inside and be safe, be safe, be safe.

But then he reaches the trailer, and he knows that something’s wrong.

Because the bats are clustered in one spot on the roof, scrabbling over the top of one another, and it makes him think of flies descending on roadkill.

He gets past all the wire and defences, and none of them take any notice. He pushes the front door open with the force of his shoulder, slams it shut again, makes sure it sticks.

And then he hears screaming.

He whips around to find Eddie driving his spear through a bat with a guttural cry. He’s on the floor, his upper body shielding something.

And then Steve sees Dustin. Dustin on the ground. Dustin bleeding.

No.

He sprints across and covers Dustin, too, slotting next to Eddie to form a complete shelter.

“Steve,” Eddie whispers, and his face is ashen. “Fuck, it’s the vents, they’re in the fucking vents. I tried to—D-Dustin—I wasn’t quick enough, Christ, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

And he keeps repeating that, as if feverish, striking out again with the spear as another bat swoops for them. His aim is true, but that doesn’t matter now. It’s too late.

Steve looks down at the wound on Dustin’s thigh, at the blood spilling out relentlessly. And as Eddie cups Dustin cheek, pleads, “Stay awake, H-Henderson, you hear me? Dustin? Dustin, please,” Steve spots the bite on Eddie’s wrist. It’s barely anything, just a nick.

But it’s enough. Steve knows that it doesn’t matter how fast he is—the bats will just keep coming. They’re on the scent, to hunt. To devour. And his wounds are dried up. Old.

Fresh blood dripping from Eddie’s wrist. Dustin’s bloody leg.

Oh, you’re going to die, Steve thinks. Both of you.

Then he thinks Well, fuck that.

He flings off his jacket, wraps it tight around Dustin’s thigh. Dustin whimpers, eyelids fluttering.

“Shit, sorry, bud,” Steve whispers. “I know it hurts, I know, I know…”

Underneath the screech of more bats, he presses a brief, fierce kiss to Dustin’s forehead, pushes back his sweaty curls. I love you.

Eddie takes out another pair of bats in quick succession, slamming them with his shield—narrowly avoids their tails wrapping around his wrist. His luck won’t last forever, Steve knows that.

So he just has to be quicker.

He rips the end of his shirt with his teeth, pushes the torn fabric into Eddie’s hand.

“Eddie. Eddie, listen,” he says urgently. “It’s the blood, okay? They’re coming for the blood.”

Eddie wraps the fabric around his wrist as if on autopilot, eyes wide with fear.

“It’s the blood,” Steve repeats, as calmly as he can. “You’ve gotta stop the bleeding, okay? You can do that.”

Eddie nods jerkily, and some of his panic fades away, replaced with a white hot determination. He sets his jaw.

“Hey, Dustin?” Steve says. Tries to be gentle while raising his voice, praying it breaks through the pain-induced fog. “Eddie’s got you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie chokes out. “I’ve got you, Henderson.”

His hand strokes through Dustin’s hair, too, and God, Steve trusts him. Trusts him so damn much.

Trusts him enough for this.

Steve jerks his head upwards to the gate. “Stop the bleeding. Get him home.”

Eddie nods again, but a wrecked laugh comes out. He ducks as another bat breaks in; Steve temporarily takes the spear, kills it without flinching.

“Jesus! How the fuck are we supposed to do that, Harrington? There’ll be hordes of those fuckers in a minute.”

“You’ll be fine,” Steve says. He discreetly pats at his pockets. Feels the handle of the switchblade. Touches Dustin one last time, a palm across his brow. “Look after him.”

“Hey, I—I don’t like your tone, man,” Eddie says. “We’re looking after him, together. Together, all right? Fucking promise me, Harrington.”

“You promised me first, remember? Stop the bleeding, get him home.”

“No, no, no, Steve, don’t you fucking dare—”

But Steve is already heading outside. He locks the door behind him, just in case, but he already knows Eddie can’t leave—won’t leave Dustin behind. There’s a thump at the door, a desperate jiggling of the handle. Steve shouldn’t look behind. He shouldn’t.

But, God. He can’t help it.

Through the glass, he can see Eddie standing there, breathing raggedly. Terrified.

Steve can’t hear him through the cacophony of the bats’ cries, the thunder and lightning. But he can read his lips.

Don’t. Please don’t.

Steve brings out the blade. Slashes it right across his palm.

Eddie screams.

I’m sorry, Eddie, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to do.

Steve runs. He grins savagely as he hears the bats following him, all of them, like he’s the fucking Pied Piper of Hamelin.

Yeah, that’s right, you sons of bitches. Steve laughs through a searing pain in his side. You’ve already had a taste. Come and get me.

[sixxteenbullets]

for the johnny cade smut, it can be just an "i was worried about you" and kind of caring smut, the sex being rough but with praise? sorry if this doesn't make sense!

I WAS WORRIED

PAIRING- JOHNNY CADE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS- MENTIONS OF MURDER, P IN V, LOVING SMUT, WRITTEN BADLY

Smut starts at paragraph 14

Hearing that your boyfriend had gotten into trouble wasn't nice to hear. Especially when it involved a murder in self defence of a well known Soc boy. When Y/n heard about it, she felt many different things. The first was shock, then anger at how someone could try and hurt her baby, and then sadness because he had to go into hiding to avoid the mess.

That's what brought her to her current situation, demanding that Dallas Winston take her to him. "No, with that big mouth of yours, everybody would know."

That was absolute bullshit, they both knew it. Sure, she likes to gossip, but never at the stakes of her friends, definitely not at the stake of her lover. "Yes! Now get in this car and take me to see Johnny!"

He stood still for a moment, eyes narrowed, jaw clenching and unclenching. She grew nervous, but only for a moment before he scoffed and got into the driver's seat. As much as he didn't want to take the chance of his best friend getting caught, he knew Y/n was a good girl. She'd never rat. Plus, it would keep Johnny's mouth shut about her for a minute.

They didn't speak throughout the whole ride. There was nothing to say. Y/n wasn't shy about showing her anxiety through the tapping of a foot or the silent mumble from her lips as she thought about all of the things that could go wrong. While Dallas tried to hide what he was feeling, he didn't do it well. He touched his face too much, looked away from the road too much. He was stressed and it was clear to her, but they said nothing to comfort each other.

As soon as the thunderbird was parked in front of an old church, Y/n was off. Dallas only shook his head as he watched her run straight into the building and give the two of them a near heart attack. Ponyboy, once he realised who she was, just gave a soft smile and breathed in relief. Johnny on the other hand, wasted no time jumping up to pull her into him. There were no words to describe how refreshing it was for the boys to see a new face.

The two held each other for a while, ignoring Dallas and Ponyboy's teases and laughs. She was the one who broke the hug, much to his dismay, and headed over to the other criminal to give him a hug. He gladly accepted it and even showed disappointment when she ended it. She understood though, going so long without any sort of comforting affection like that must have been brutal.

After the tension of the arrival proved short-lived, the four all began conversing in whatever they could think of. This went on until Dallas abruptly stood up and had Ponyboy take him outside to their food supply as he was getting hungry.

When the two boys were gone, Johnny and Y/n sat in a comforting silence, eyes moving between contact and lips. There was an unspoken thought lingering between them, something that neither of them had built up the courage to say. It wasn't until she acted on an impulse and smashed her lips into his did he realise that she was very real and very much there. This was happening.

The kiss was filled with so much hunger and passion that he felt light headed. The love which was ignited between them was so foreign to him. She gave him everything she had and more. Johnny Cade was only eighteen years old, as was she, and his life was at risk. He could be thrown into prison, killed for revenge, or be driven mad by the constant danger he was in. That was too real. More than their love or their kiss. More than the hand that slid down his torso, and more than his actions of pulling away from her. "Not here,"

Y/n's only thoughts as she was being taken to a loft in the back of the abandoned church was how she was going to show her boyfriend how much she cared for him.

Johnny was laying on his back in no time, his girl slowly pressing kisses all over his face. Every one of them brought him happiness. At one point she stopped, pressing one last kiss to his jaw before she met his eyes again. Her legs moved to straddle his hips and her hands held his face. "I was so worried about you," she breathed. "So worried."

"Let me make it up to you." These words surprised both of them. She didn't think he would be so forward, and he thought the exact same thing.

In one swift, careful motion, he was on top. His hand was behind her head and his lips were on her neck. She closed her eyes and took in his warmth. Her lips parted in silent ecstasy as his hand roamed down her side, pulling her shirt up to be even with her waist. That was his next portrait. Kisses were trailed down her middle, stopping just above her pants before he pulled away.

A pathetic complaint left her mouth incoherently, but it was short lived as she saw his hands trail to his hips. She followed in suit by removing her shirt and her own pants. The look in his eyes was unreadable before it changed to hunger. Something that she's never seen before. And, fuck, was it hot.

Their lips met again and his hips grinded down into hers, creating a shameless moan from both of them. But he didn't stop there, every bit of contact made only encouraged the dirty passion.

It was his turn to pull away from her then, meet her eyes and speak so softly that she could hardly hear him. "Are you sure? Are you ready?"

"I want you." That was all he needed to hear before he tore away her underwear and lined up with her entrance. The anticipation got to her and made her close her eyes, preparing for what was about to come.

Seeing this, he pressed his forehead to hers. "I love you."

Every inch of him that was thrust into her was savored by each of them. Every inch of skin that they could think of was flooded with warmth. Her leg swung up over his hip, his hand gripping her thigh, moving up slowly to wrap around her waist and keep her impossibly close to him.

A tear of pure euphoria slipped down one of their faces, they didn't know which of them was crying but the salty taste that joined their lips confirmed that it was happening. Whatever discomfort there was for either lover couldn't even be remotely matched by the amount of love and pleasure they were engulfed in.

It was nearly impossible to keep quiet. Dallas and Ponyboy were not far from them, just outside the church. They could hear so easily. The risk, however, was not very present in their minds. Many other thoughts were taking over. For example, how fucking good they both felt.

His hips grinded into hers at a quick pace, pelvis hitting her clit with every motion. Her back arched and her torso met his. The arm that wasn't wrapped around her was used to slide down her arm as their fingers intertwined. Light, feathery kisses were pressed against her breasts.

She spoke in slow, breathy words. "You're so. . . Good."

For a brief moment, Y/n opened her eyes to look at Johnny. His face was twisted into an expression that could only be described as heavenly. A small, emotional smile graced her lips as she let her eyes close once more.

"You're beautiful." He was so quiet. His face hurried into her neck, mouth opened as he neared his high. The hot breath on her neck was something she never thought she'd enjoy so much. There was a tightness that grew in her core, then, building up so much that she struggled to keep from crying out.

As if nature was on their side that day, they reached their climax together. A fire ignited between them and spread through their most connected points all the way to the tips of their fingers, still laced together tight. The intimacy was crushing them in the most pleasurable way.

Her empty hand went to tangle in his hair, gripping tight. The arm that he had wrapped around her middle moved downward so that his hand could squeeze the fat of her ass.

He had pulled out and released on the ground between her thighs. There wasn't much time to allow his body to calm down before his attention was back on the girl in front of him. Her eyes were still closed as she attempted to calm down from her own high. He crawled back up beside her and laid down. She was quickly pulled into an embrace, neither party caring about how sweaty the other was.

"You're coming back again next week." It wasn't much of a question as it was a statement.

She breathed a laugh and nodded against his chest. "Yeah, I am."

______

UGHHHH. RAHH. I'm sorry but I suck at smut lol. I'm not much of a johnny girl, nor a smut girl, so I'm sorry this isn't as good as it could have been.

@thesunmeltedthegrayaway on the other hand, has some really good works on johnny!