#john 5 x reader

[longing-for-the-past-times]

masterlist roommate!simon

Roommate!Soap who leaves his shirts and hoodies scattered around the flat, patiently waiting for the day he’ll see you wearing them

At first, it's just a hoodie messily thrown on his usual seat in the kitchen and you pay it no mind, being just careful not to spill anything on it. Next is a t-shirt, strategically placed on the arm of the couch, almost as if he left it there by accident. Shaking your head and muttering something about boys and their habits, you gently fold it and place it back, unaware of the man standing in the door and watching you

"Thanks for that- must have missed it when doing laundry!"

"Aren't you military men supposed to be all neat and tidy and such?", you mock him with an amused smirk on your face. He rolls his eyes in reply, too busy trying to contain the hot blush that was threathening to spread across his face: any other person he knew would have thrown his t-shirt on the ground instead of bothering to fold it and treat it with such care.

Roommate!Soap who, after you start doing laundry together, accidentally mixes his clothes with yours, sneaking a sweater or a shirt in your pile of freshly-washed sweatshirts. He secretly wishes one day you'll fail to return them, but he's already grown used to the neatly stacked pile of his belongings that you would place on his side of the couch (you wouldn't enter his bedroom)

Roommate!Soap who starts to believe his plans are turning into a success when, one day, the black hoodie he sneaked in your laundry, is still missing from his side of the couch. Trying to ignore the giddy feeling inside his chest, he begins to think of ways to tease you about it, but he closes his mouth as quickly as he opens it, the moment you show up into the living room, promptly planting the hoodie into his arms

"I'm actually glad none of my clothes have slipped in your laundry yet", you joke with him, blind to his resigned expression. "Can't imagine how embarrased I would be if you had to deal with my nightwear!"

He wouldn't mind it, not at all.

But he ends up shrugging his shoulders and cracking a joke about what kind of nightwear you own. The black hoodie never felt heavier in his arms.

Roommate!Soap who comes home from a mission in the middle of the night and can't stop a wide smile from spreading on his face. He actually has to take a moment to process the fact that there you were, passed out on the couch, wearing his black hoodie.

Roommate!Soap who instantly takes out his phone and tries to take a selfie with your sleeping figure, his beaming figure glowing with happiness. His huffed chuckles wake you up and you hide your face in your hands when you realise he knows you're wearing his clothes.

"It's just- you left it on the couch and it got cold and-"

"No need to explain yourself, bonnie. It just took ye a while to get the message."

[gomzdrawfr]

The Captain surprises you with a new look

inspired by Barry's latest stream and ref from this post

[yandere-wishes]

Okay hear me out!! But I'm thinking of Yandere!Boothill with a housewife!Darling. He dresses you in the cutest dresses just to chase you around. Making you think if you can just get far enough you'll be able to escape this sadistic man. You run as fast as you can, kicking off the impractical shoes he makes you wear. Trying all so desperately to escape. But it's futile, his lasso wraps around your ceasing you motion and pulling you back to his strong crushing arms.

"You'll never escape me, bitchy~"

Fun Fact: Boothill is the name of a haunted cemetery in Tombstone Arizona. Does anyone else get the reference??

[ghouljams]

I need to see more of the darlings being verbally and unabashedly down bad. Like their just doing something totally mundane and the darling blurts out "I want you do fuck me until the sheets are unsalvageable." And he turns to look at them like "Oh word?" N e way the ovulation brainrot is so real

....how about some cowboy Soap and Moon, I'm in a mood for them.

"Wish you'd just flip my skirt up and fuck me sometimes," you grumble, frowning at the coffee selection in you cabinet. There's a clatter of commotion behind you as Soap scrambles out of his chair. You glance over your shoulder at him, puzzled at what all the noise is about and catch Soap kicking his chair away. He looks at you with wild eyes and you only have enough time to shut the cabinet and turn toward him before Soap is lifting you onto the counter and crashing his mouth into yours.

He's desperate and dirty, licking into your mouth as his hands push up your skirt. "Course you do, dirty little nun," Soap's quick to get his fingers into your panties, rubbing over your slit with a firm hand, "just a cock hungry whore under that habit, arent ya?" You arch your hips desperately into the friction, grip his biceps tight and try to keep your breathing normal as you whine. You squirm and he smacks your clothed pussy. "Words hen, good nuns use their words."

"Not a whore," You argue. Soap chuckles, tips his head to mouth at your neck, sucking just hard enough you worry it'll bruise. The pressure against your sensitive skin makes you sigh, makes Soap grab one of your hands to press against the front of his jeans. You squeeze the hard outline of his cock and he lets out a breath.

"Ya beg like one," his fingers press into your cunt, warm and wet friction that makes you bite your lip, "yer wet like one," the slide of his thick fingers, the rub of his thumb against your clit, you can't help stroking his clothed cock, your own fingers itching to open his fly, "and ya suck cock like one, so if ya ask me ta fuck ya like one, ah will."

"Johnny," You breathe, canting your hips with the in-out of his fingers, you clench around them when they curl to hit that soft spot near your entrance. Soap doesn't respond except to hum, prompt you to continue whatever thought is falling through your hands like water. "If you don't fuck me-" You think the threat loses some of its power with the way you whine, but Soap hardly seems to notice, his spare hand quick to unbuckle his belt and open his fly.

"Fuckin' love it when you threaten me hen," He mumbles, pulling his cock free, "like I don't have you all figured out."

[sourwolf-sterek32]

The Dirt (Your Version)

Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.

Or

A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Trigger Warning- language, mentions of past child abuse and past self-harm

Previous Chapter

Chapter 21- Mötley fuckin' Crüe

A week later, you and Nikki were pulling up in front of Tommy's double story mansion across town.

"What are you going to say to him?" You asked, climbing out the car.

Nikki shrugged, "first an apology."

You simply nodded before you walked up the tall stairs to his front door taking two at a time before Nikki knocked. A moment later, Tommy pulled the door open with a cigarette between his lips and a look of surprise on his face.

"Hey, guys." He greeted hesitantly, glancing between you and Nikki unsure what was happening.

"What I did at your wedding..." Nikki began to say causing the confusion on the drummer to double. "I didn't... know... how to do that. How to be there."

"What's up, Nikki?" Tommy asked stopping the bassist struggling with his apology.

"I was really fucking selfish, and I shit on something that was important to you, and I am really sorry."

Tommy glanced over at you briefly before focusing back on Nikki. "I know you pretty well, Sixx, so... I kinda get it. And it's okay. But can you say that last part one more time for me?"

"Don't fucking push it, T-bone." Nikki shook his head with a smirk.

You and Tommy began to laugh before the drummer stepped to the side allowing you both to walk through the front door.

"I heard you and Heather broke up."

Tommy nodded, "yeah."

"I'm sorry, man." Nikki grabbed his shoulder with a small squeeze.

"Knew I'd get you to say it again." Tommy grinned with a laugh.

"Fuck you." Nikki removed his hand while trying not to smile.

Your eyes widened in shock not having realised that him and Heather had broken up. But of course, they would have. Heather would've seen the magazine with the photo of her husband kissing another girl on the front page. And not just any girl. It was you. It was the girl that Tommy would hang around with backstage. The girl he'd lean against during shows. The girl he asked to be his groomsman. The girl he ditched their honeymoon for. No wonder Heather was gone.

"Fuck, Tommy, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have-" You began to apologise before he cut you off.

"It's okay."

"It's not okay. Heather broke up with you because of me. I mean, fuck, you were married for seven years and-"

"Y/N, look at me." Tommy instructed, stepping in front of you and pinching your chin gently between his thumb and index finger before tilting your head up until you met his eyes. "It's okay." He repeated.

"How is that okay?"

Tommy sighed, glancing over your shoulder at Nikki. The two of them had a silent conversation you weren't privy to before his warm hazel eyes met yours once again.

"Because I've been in love with you since high school."

Out of everything you thought Tommy might have said, that was not on the list. That wasn't even on the draft of the fucking list.

Holy shit.

You opened your mouth to respond but no words came out.

"Kiss her, man." Nikki said from behind you, giving the drummer the permission he needed before Tommy tilted your chin up higher and he leant down capturing your lips with his.

You melted against his mouth and cupped his face with your hands deepening the kiss before pulling away and glancing over at Nikki who was smiling.

"Alright. We're going on a mission." He declared holding his hand out towards you.

You grabbed Nikkis hand before taking Tommys in your other and the three of you walked out the house towards Nikki's car.

It was time to go get Mick Mars.

Apparently, Mick just had hip replacement surgery, so you drove out to the hospital to pick him up.

You leant against the side of the car between Nikki and Tommy, and the look on Micks face when he saw the three of you together was priceless.

"About time you three got your shit together." Was his form of greeting as a nurse wheeled him out the front doors on a wheelchair.

You smirked pushing yourself away from the car and walked towards him.

"It's good to see you, Mick."

The older man smiled, "you too, kid."

"How's that new hip, dude? Feel like The Terminator now or some shit?" Tommy asked heading straight for the handles of the wheelchair.

"Touch the chair and I'll terminate you, Drummer." Mick threatened pointing at him.

Tommy quickly raised his hands and stepped back before Mick thanked the nurse behind him and slowly stood up out the wheelchair.

You took a step forward with your hand out, Nikki doing the same unsure how steady he would be on his feet, but the older man simply waved you both off and began walking to the car.

"Stop looking at me like that. Let's go get our fucking singer back already."

-

Locating Vince Neil was harder than you anticipated.

He wasn't at his house and after using the spare key to get inside, it was clear that he hadn't been home for a while.

"Where the hell is he?" Tommy asked, looking around and you had a sinking feeling you knew where your brother had ended up.

Moonshadow's bar downtown.

When Skylar was sick, that was where he went every single night and when she passed, he practically lived there. That place was like a second home to him at that point.

You thought rehab had helped him. He sounded fine when you spoke to him on the phone not long ago, but your brother was still suffering.

"Shit." You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands causing the guys to all look over at you. "I think I know where he is."

The four of you climbed back into Nikki's car and before you knew it, you were heading towards the front door of the small quiet bar. But before you pushed it open, you paused and turned to face the guys.

"Look... just let me talk to Vince first, okay? I-I don't know how he'll react."

They all nodded in agreement before you turned and entered the building.

There were a few people seated at various booths and tables, but there was one man sitting at the bar and there was no mistaking that long blonde hair anywhere. The guys remained by the door, for once actually listening to you, while you walked straight across the room towards your brother.

"You got company." The bartender warned, eyeing you and the guys by the door cautiously.

Vince glanced over his shoulder in confusion before his eyes met yours and he sighed, turning back around staring down at his glass of Jack and coke.

"I-I'm not drinking like I was. Don't worry. This is my only drink even ask him." Vince said defensively motioning up at the bartender.

"It's true. He refuses to let me serve him more than one drink."

You nodded, a little relieved to hear that because for a moment you feared your brother had really fallen off the wagon again.

"I'm proud of you." You admitted, sitting down on the stool beside him before leaning over and resting your head on his shoulder. "And I love you."

Vince didn't say anything to that but tilted his head until it was resting against the top of yours.

"How's your hand?" You asked after a moment, looking down at his scarred knuckles wrapped around his glass.

"Healed." He answered letting go of the glass and squeezing his hand in and out of a fist. "I should have never let dad touch you again. I should have seen it coming and-"

"Vin, it's not your fault."

"It kinda feels like my fault."

You lifted your head from his shoulder and turned in your seat to face him properly.

"It's not your fault." You insisted, reaching over and grabbing his arm. "I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself."

"Yeah? Well, I'm your big brother. It's my job to protect you and I failed, again."

"You can't protect me from everything, big brother." You whispered, mimicking your words from the day you both ran away from home.

Vince smiled sadly catching on before repeating his own words too, "I can try."

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes while Vince sipped at his drink savouring his one alcoholic beverage before you glanced over your shoulder at the others and nodded them over.

"Vin, the guys are here. They wanna talk to you."

That had your brothers head snapping around so fast, "what? No. Y/N, I don't think-"

"We just wanna talk, Vinnie. That's it." Nikki explained calmly reaching the bar, but your brother just stared down at his glass refusing to look at him. "Come on, Vinnie."

Mick suddenly reached out and placed a firm but gentle hand on your brother's shoulder causing him to flinch.

"Let's talk." Mick said.

Vince glanced over at you hesitantly and you gave him a small reassuring nod causing your brother to let out a deep sigh.

"Okay."

The group of you moved over to a table at the far side of the bar away from everyone else. You sat down between Nikki and Tommy while Mick grabbed some soda for you all and placed it on the table while Nikki spoke.

"I was scared." Nikki admitted, looking at Vince beside him. "After what happened with Razzle, I was scared that I was losing the only thing that ever mattered to me."

"Yeah, your band." Vince muttered.

"No. No. This." Nikki explained motioning to all of you around the table. "Look, we went to war together. Shit changes, people change, but I don't fucking care if Mötley Crüe never plays another note. All I want is my fucking brother back. Because this is the only family that I've ever known."

"We love you, Vin. Okay, fuck, I love ya." Tommy added.

"And I am sorry about Skylar, man." Nikki said gently.

Vince lowered his head avoiding everyone's eyes as his body started to shake and you knew your brother was trying not to cry at the mention of his daughter.

"It's against the laws, man." Vince sobbed, shaking his head. "It's against the fucking rules of the universe."

Your own eyes began to fill with tears as you stared at your brother struggling to hold it together before Mick wrapped his arm around him and that was all it took before Vince started to cry.

"Hey." Nikki soothed, resting his hand on Vince's shoulder.

"We got you, brother." Mick whispered, holding him. "We got you, brother."

Tommy suddenly pulled you into his side while you silently cried, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your back. Tears trickled down your face in a heavy stream despite how hard you tried to stop them, and Nikki reached over with his free hand and grabbed yours on the table giving it a small squeeze for comfort.

Eventually, the tears came to an end. Vince managed to get a hold of himself while you sniffed quietly. Your brother glanced over at you noticing your tear-streaked face before he looked at Tommys arm around you and Nikki's hand holding yours.

"Look, Vince-" Nikki quickly began to say, but your brother cut him off.

"You three together?"

Mick stiffened from across the table fearful that this might be the breaking point for Mötley Crüe. If Vince couldn't accept it, that was it. There was no coming back for Mötley Crüe and the older man knew it. You all knew it.

"I love them, Vince." You began to say before either of them had a chance to open their mouths and say something stupid.

A look of shock washed over your brothers face at those words. He knew that the three of you used to hook up and you eventually told him about the miscarriage. But Vince probably just assumed that it was a casual thing between the three of you. He didn't know that you were in love, and you hoped like hell that piece of new information wouldn't make him any madder than he already was.

You loved Nikki and Tommy.

You loved them both so fucking much, and you were done trying to hide it.

"Yeah, I love them." You continued to say. "And I know you don't approve of that. And we shouldn't have snuck around behind your back way back when, and for that, I'm sorry. But I can't change how I feel."

Vince remained worriedly silent for quite some time while he looked between the three of you carefully.

Tommy and Nikki seemed too frightened to speak which was probably a good thing and Mick was sitting there holding his breath, waiting to see what would happen.

"You guys love each other?" Vince eventually asked, his tone forcefully neutral as he glanced between you all.

"We do, man." Tommy answered without hesitation. "I know your sister is off limits, but we love her, dude. This isn't just some fling or something. We love her."

"He's right." Nikki backed up, Vince's eyes shooting over to the bassist. "Look, man. I've never felt the way I feel about your sister with anyone. I love her, and I'm not going to apologise for it. If you want to walk away, we aren't going to stop you."

"Or you can come back and Mötley Crüe can start playing again." Mick spoke up, resting his hand on Vince's shoulder.

Your brother glanced over at the older man briefly before shifting his focus back to the guys beside you taking in Tommys arm around your back and Nikki's hand still holding yours against the table.

Your heart felt like it was beating out of its chest in anticipation until your brother eventually nodded.

"Let's make some fucking music."

-

After announcing Mötley Crüe were back with Vince Neil as their lead singer, the first show sold out within an hour of tickets going on sale.

"Tommy, sit still or I'm gonna ruin your makeup." You warned from where you were literally sitting in his lap trying to apply his eyeliner, but he kept tapping his foot. "God, I forgot how fidgety you used to be before a show."

"I can't help it. I get nervous." He said defensively but managed to stop moving his foot so you could finish.

You lowered the eyeliner and stared at his beautiful hazel eyes making sure they were both perfectly even before you nodded at your handy work in approval.

"Can I move now, baby?"

"Yes, but be careful not to smudge-"

His lips crashed against yours before you could finish that sentence. It was rushed and needy, but perfect all at once.

You tossed the eyeliner in the general direction of the desk before resting your hand over his bare chest. Your fingers traced over the new tattoos that weren't there the last time you were on tour together. His hand shifted down to your waist, sliding up under your jacket until his warm fingers found your skin and he kept his hand there while you kissed him back needily.

The door to your dressing room suddenly opened causing the two of you to pull apart. You looked over your shoulder to find Nikki walking inside now dressed in his leather pants and new black jacket. His signature warpaint stripes were on his face along with a bandana around his forehead.

"Looking good, Sixx." You whistled as he closed the door behind himself, his cheeks blushing a little at your compliment.

You glanced back over at Tommy who was still holding you in his lap and now had red lipstick smeared over his lips.

"I need to wipe this off." You said reaching up to his mouth, but he grabbed your hand before you could do it.

"Leave it. It'll remind me of you."

Your heart swelled at that small gesture before Nikki walked over to the two of you and spun the chair you were both occupying around until you were facing him.

"Your look is missing something." Nikki observed looking your new outfit up and down.

It was just a simple pair of leather pants with chains hanging from the belt loops and a sleeveless red lacy top that probably showed too much skin and cleavage, but neither of the guys commented on it not wanting to control what you wore which you appreciated.

"Close your eyes for me." Nikki instructed.

You raised your eyebrows, "um, why?"

"Do you trust me?"

"With my life." You answered without hesitation.

"Close your eyes."

You nodded and closed your eyes before Nikki's hand cupped the side of your face gently and then you felt him drawing a small line along your left cheek bone.

There was no mistaking what that mark was.

"T-bone. What do you think?" Nikki asked tilting your head to the side so Tommy could see.

"She's fucking beautiful, man."

"Yeah, she is." Nikki agreed before he lowered his hand from your face, and you felt the chair start to turn again. "Open your eyes, princess."

Slowly, you blinked your eyes open to find yourself now facing the mirror on the desk. Your eyes shifted down to the singular black stripe of warpaint on your cheek that was identical to what you used to have all those years ago.

You smiled at the mirror, "like old times."

Nikki and Tommy both met your gaze through the mirror with bright smiles.

The faded scars on your face and upper arm from the car crash back in 1984 were traced with glitter like you used to do on tour. However, the healed scars on your wrist were covered with bracelets.

You fiddled with the bracelets for a moment before catching sight of the clock on the wall behind.

"It's show time." You announced, climbing off Tommy's lap before shrugging off your leather jacket and throwing it onto the desk. "You boys ready?"

Tommy nodded, "hell yeah."

"Let's do it." Nikki grinned.

You followed the guys out the dressing room and down the long narrow corridor towards the stage before you knocked on Mick's dressing room door as you passed.

"Mick, it's time!" You shouted before walking over to your brother's door and knocking. "Vin, let's roll!"

Nikki then threw his arm around your shoulders while he walked, Tommy off to his other side fiddling with his drumsticks. Mick came out his room joining you down the corridor wearing his long black coat and top hat and then Vince stepped out in his leather pants and black muscle shirt.

The five of you walked down the corridor in sync together.

Vince wrapped his arms around you and Nikki with a bright smile spreading across his face. Tommy sprung himself in the air with one hand on Micks shoulder and another on Nikki's as he jumped up excitingly causing you all to laugh as you made your way towards the stage.

You slipped free from Vince and Nikki as you rounded the corner towards the backstage stairs and paused at the base of them watching the guys all walk up towards the stage.

A swell of love and pride washed over you.

Whenever Tommy sat down behind his drums and Nikki picked up his bass, and Mick plugged in his guitar, something always happened. It was like the air thickened with excitement. You couldn't put your finger on it, but it was like a weird kind of electrical humidity. You didn't just hear it, you felt it. Then Vince would scream the first few words of a song and all you could think was, 'we're home.'

You were a lot older now but some days you still felt eighteen with these guys.

This band had outlived wives and girlfriends, managers, record companies, agents- everything but itself.

From living in the Mötley House along the Sunset Strip and playing at the Whiskey to this moment... Mötley Crüe had fucking made it.

Nikki suddenly stopped halfway up the stairs noticing you were missing and turned in confusion. His smoky eyes locked with yours and he held his hand out towards you. You jogged up the steps and took his hand with a small squeeze.

"You did it. Mötley Crüe are back." You smiled proudly at him. "This is our life."

"If life was a song, then meeting you was the best verse." Nikki whispered in your ear before he placed a tender kiss to your lips.

You closed your eyes savouring the moment before Nikki pulled away with a bright smile on his face. His hand squeezed yours gently before he led you up the stairs catching up with the others just as you reached the stage and the crowd erupted.

Vince threw his hands up in the air enthusiastically. Tommy and Mick holding up devil horns while you stared out at the stadium full of people in front of you. The crowd was screaming and cheering louder than you had ever heard it as Nikki held your joined hands up to the sky.

After everything the band had been through together. All the years of fights, drugs, alcohol, criticism, heartbreak... after everything, they were still here.

That's fate.

That's family.

And that's Mötley fuckin' Crüe.

-

...THE END

-

A/N: I'm actually crying...

I didn't think I'd get emotional about this. It's just a fanfic, it's a fake story... but it's also real. It's based on true events from the band we all know and love, but to me, writing this story has been like a lifeline. And now it's over and I have no idea what to do.

From listening to Girls Girls Girls in my dad's car on the way to school when I was a kid... to 15 years later and I'm blasting Kickstart My Heart in my own car driving to work... then fast forward a couple years to the 14th of November 2023, I'm standing at Marvel Stadium in Melbourne over 1,5000km away from home with my dad watching Mötley Crüe live in concert.

Seeing Mötley Crüe in person... seeing Nikki Sixx on stage playing his bass... seeing Tommy Lee unleash on the drums... hearing Vince Neil scream the songs I grew up listening to and hearing John 5 tearing it up on his guitar carrying on Mick Mars' legacy... words cannot do justice to how fucking amazing those couple of hours were.

In 2022, I moved to a small country town for my career. I live alone. I have no friends or family in this town, they all live over 8 hours away. I'm introvert with bad social anxiety and I like being alone. I like my own space and having my own house, but it hurts sometimes being this lonely, but Mötley Crüe have helped me. From their music to their books, to their movie; The Dirt, to all their YouTube interviews and documentaries to their social media presence. Mötley Crüe have made me feel less lonely. They have helped me in so many ways and I owe everything to them.

I know I'm rambling, but Mötley Crüe, Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars and John 5 have saved my life. Sure, to some that might seem stupid and pathetic. Mötley Crüe don't know me. They never will. But they have impacted my life so much and I would not be here typing these words if it wasn't for them. 

So, from the bottom of my heart, I want to thank them.

I don't know what the future holds.

Mötley Crüe are doing some shows in America this year and releasing new music soon (I am so fucking excited to hear it) and according to Nikki on Twitter/X, the band will be back to touring in 2025.

Now, I don't know if that means they will come back to Australia or not, but just the thought... just the mere chance and possibility that Mötley Crüe might be back in my country that is enough to keep going. It is enough to get me out of bed in the mornings and go to work. It is enough for me to keep fighting and I know I will get judged for it but fuck anyone who hates on me for saying that because this band means more to me than you will ever know.

ANYWAY...

When I first started writing this, I never imaged anyone would even read it. I was purely writing this for myself, but I am so so happy that many of you have loved and resonated with this story and Y/N Neil.

Out all the fanfics I've ever written this one means the most to me. Thank you for coming along on this journey. I have had a blast writing this and at the moment, this story is finished, but who knows what the future holds ❤️

This is Sourwolf_sterek32 signing off. Until next time, stay safe everyone. I'm going to go cry and rewatch The Dirt for the hundredth time to make myself feel better xx

[iceman-soup]

amab masc!reader x bot!price

Sure, he's your superior, but if Price gets you that hard whenever he calls you "sir," then who are you to deny him some role reversal?

And yeah, maybe you both realised it was a thing by accident, when he sarcastically said "yes, sir," just to be a little bitch, but the way you blushed and had to adjust your trousers certainly didn't go unnoticed, and it's not really his fault that he had to call you into his office later anyway. I mean, he could've avoided teasing you, calling you "sir" even then, but what's the fun in that?

Especially when it ended up with him pressed against the wall, one hand over his mouth to muffle his moans as you fuck him senseless, leaving hickeys high enough on his neck to be visible whatever he's wearing, pulling his hand away to hear his cute little begs and whimpers as he wanks himself off as best he can whilst you pound into him.

Breathing heavy when he calls you "captain," even though you're nowhere near that rank. His hole clenching around your dick, milking your cum from it and making him fall into you when you loosen your grip on him. Whining that he's not cum yet, pouting when you take his hands and pin them up against the wall again.

"Please, Captain, sir," he sobs, hips bucking against nothing, desperate for friction. When you reach a hand down, light touches to his cock to tease him, he cries out a far too loud "please," forcing you to shut him up with your mouth, sharing kisses as you move your hand up and down til he cums all over it, his teeth biting your lip as he moans out a final "sir," whimpering and leaning into you tiredly.

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about Ghost and Soap in a polyamorous relationship (18+, MINORS DNI)

It’s to no surprise that your two boyfriends have rather contrasting personalities. One is for physical touch while the other is vehemently against it. It’s not like Ghost won’t ever hug you or hold your hand. It’s just that it can quickly become too much for him. Thats why you’ll opt for short side hugs and cling onto the cuffs of his sleeves when you want to touch him. It’s just a boundary he has and you chose to respect it.

So when it feels like everything in the world is going wrong and you need a reassuring embrace or a hand to hold, you’ll resort to the Scotsman who’ll happily ground his weight on top of yours and offer you a sturdy grip to hold onto.

That’s why it came as a surprise when you found out just how eager Ghost is to touch you in the bedroom, so much so he can barley contain himself.

He’s breathing heavily, hands shaking, seated in a a chair placed a bit further away from the bed that you’re laying in.

He doesn’t dare touch you though, knows his mind is too far gone to make clear headed decisions, hands far too eager to be gentle, knows his distance from the bed is the only thing keeping him from falling off the deep end.

So that’s why he assigns Soap to plant himself between your legs, watching as you roll your hips against his face, hands flying up to grab onto Soap’s hair as their names fall from your lips like prayers.

Ghost’s hand trails up the expanse of his thigh, gaze never leaving the scene in front of him as his palm lands on the spot where his cock is pressed against the fabric of his sweatpants and gently squeezes it.

His toes curl into the floor as he bucks up into his palm, a pathetic mewl escaping his lips as his dick finally gets some sort of relief after just watching you and Soap for so long. But his feather like touch quickly turns rough. His mind is too frantic to prevent eager hands from roughly stroking his dick. He’s tethering at the edge of relief before he forcefully pries his hand away from it.

His cock mourns the loss as much as he does “No, no, no, why? Why?!” He mutters to himself, chair rocking back in place as he throws his head back against the backrest.

He slumps in the chair, breath just as heavy and hands just as shaky as his gaze falls down to the spot where his palm once was.

The fabric of his sweats lay taut against his cock. It feels hard and heavy and it’s weeping continuously, leaving a dark spot on the otherwise bright fabric.

Not yet, he thinks to himself.

If he’s not able to handle his cock with care he won’t touch you yet.

[junipers-rain]

I want to put my 5¢ into the COD Fanfic community (At 1AM)

Something I'm tired of: COD Fanfic where the reader is short and petite, or short and plus sized. Give me a tall, buff/chubby woman who could dominate König. Give me a woman who's like 6'5 and sneers at Ghost when he tries to bark an order at her. (Depending on rank ofc)

I myself am at least 6'0 and have wide shoulders and chest and am fairly muscular. I also have near close to the confidence of a Lion. Looking at Ghost with his build? I'm not that intimidated, especially if I've had the same training as him.

And "babygirling" König? He's a colonel- a murderer- they all are by some technicality. He has social anxiety, not the mentality of a shy 6 year old.

If you were to put him in the a room with a woman that had a same build as him, and same confidence he has under the mask, I'm sure he would still fall for her all the same. Same with Ghost, Soap, Gaz, etc.

[paradlselost]

BOLD AND BRAVE

john seed x fem!deputy

smut warning. no explicit consent given. choking. hair pulling. biting. fingering. some oral (f receiving). p in v.

4.8k words.

Soft sounds echoed off the wooden walls of the secluded cabin, walls that had heard far too much, that would sooner be chopped to pieces and shoved through a chipper than be allowed to spill the secrets it held. John Seed was a holy man, and cleanliness was close to godliness, so he made sure never to leave things unkempt. Nothing ever had a trace of him, even his glasses back at the ranch were cleaned of fingerprints every night. Call it germophobia, call it paranoia, whatever plagued his thoughts when he was alone in the comfort of his pressed silk sheets didn’t seem to leave him now either.

Though more pressing matters seemed to be on at the forefront as he pressed her head down against the pillow, the small grunts that usually escaped his lips at this point didn’t bother trying, he was too busy in his mind. He shouldn’t be doing this, he knew that fornication wasn’t allowed, and as a Herald, he had to make an example for others, though that had never stopped him before. Now only contempt nipped at the back of his neck where unrequited love bites had been left. Sure, he could be upset at how Joseph wouldn’t be happy if he found out his little brother went against the cult rules, but that didn’t seem to be it either.

He stopped himself suddenly, not even bothering to let himself finish. It was a shocking act for even him. John Seed, silver tongue of the cult who always took what he wanted not even caring for his satisfaction? Well, it certainly seemed to shock the woman under him, who turned to look at him through her eyelashes.

“Why’d you stop?” Her voice called up to him, a whine in her tone that made his stomach churn. He looked at her with disgust in his sharp blue eyes, a look she had not been accustomed to from him. “What’s your problem?”

She sat up now, pulling a loose sheet over her exposed body as she tilted her head at him. She was a beauty, really, she was, but that didn’t seem to be enough for him tonight. Sure, John felt a little bad for how he constantly treated her, but her own beauty didn’t do it for him anymore. He needed something he felt he couldn’t outrightly take, he would seem far too pathetic if he chased after what he really wanted, so he settled for a shotty substitute.

“Did you cut your hair?”

She gave him a quizzical look, raising an eyebrow. Maybe it was a compliment? He noticed something other than the quickest way to rip her shirt off this time. “I did, do you like it?”

“How many times have I told you not to change the way you look, Holly?”

His words were sharp as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his jeans with a glare in her direction, it seemed neither of them would be able to finish tonight. She scrunched her nose up at his words. It wasn’t rare for him to be an asshole to her, in fact, it was becoming a much more common occurrence with the recent resistance pushback against the cult, but she still didn’t appreciate his tone.

“I don’t know why you’ve been so adamant about it lately. I wanted to try something new, what do you care?”

She scoffed as she stood up, letting the sheet fall off her body as she grabbed her shirt and underwear, pulling them on. John reached out and roughly grabbed her wrist, making her turn to look at him. He had never put a hand on her without them both being in the middle of John getting his rocks off in her bed or against her wall or vanity, and his sudden touch startled her.

Good, that’s what he wanted to see. The Pepper girl seemed to forget her place constantly, John was a Herald, she was just someone attractive he could see from time to time to release pent-up frustrations.

“You don't look like her anymore. Your hair frames your face differently now.”

Holly scoffed at him, pulling her wrist away from his reach. She never really cared about being more than a fling to him, she liked the distraction it gave her from the newfound loneliness she felt in this cottage and maybe sometimes she did wish he wouldn’t see someone else when he slept with her, that he wouldn’t moan someone else’s name when he fucked her, but she ultimately knew it would go nowhere with him. John Seed was a man obsessed with someone she couldn’t be.

“Who, the Deputy? Well, news flash, I’m not her.”

“I know you’re not, but it's not a crime for me to pretend, and you changing up your hair doesn’t fucking help the vision.”

“The vision.” She scoffed, crossing her arms at him. Her tone was one of mocking, like he was stupid for even dreaming she could fill the role of the one person he couldn’t have. No, because if it wasn’t her hair today then it would be her legs tomorrow, that they weren’t as toned as the Deputy’s, or that her eyes weren’t the right shade. It was constantly ‘Deputy this, Deputy that.’ But Holly Pepper wasn’t enough. “I think you should leave.”

“I’m gone.”

She didn’t have to convince him to rebutton his silk blue shirt or throw on his belt with the large ‘EG’ buckle on it. She didn’t need to persuade him to tie his boots and walk out her front door, into the cool Montana night, he simply left. Trekking down the dirt trail and getting into his car, he slammed the door shut and took off through the wooded back paths. He absolutely despised driving on anything other than the clearly marked main roads, especially when it was dark. He made special exceptions for the nights he went to visit Holly, but being that he didn’t finish, his anger was only elevated.

A truck passed, headlights shining into his windshield and honking as he swerved out of the way to avoid being hit, grumbling curses under his breath that he certainly would have to atone for later, but he would happily do it when he was back in the comfort of his warm, lavish ranch. The truck was the only other car on the road, and through his headlights, he could tell he was going the wrong way. Another curse, this time to himself, no way was he allowing himself to get lost in the middle of fucking nowhere redneck woods. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he pulled over to the nearest building he could find, a clinic. Silently, he hoped someone in there didn’t particularly hate him and would give him directions.

He pulled over with a huff, looking around his car for a map, and without seeing one, opened the door and got out, slamming it behind him. The evening air was cool, and unlike when he had left the Pepper residence, he was able to now take a breath and calm himself down. Though he doubted too many people were around at this time of night, he still wasn’t a fan of making a spectacle of himself when just trying to get directions. Gravel crunched underneath his boots as he made his way to the door, hand stopping just short of the handle as he heard a voice.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to get service right now.”

He didn’t need to turn to know who was speaking to him, he could feel the air still around him at the sound of her voice, the one person he hadn’t expected to see, not after he had falsely assumed he put the fear of god into her, not after he carved the sin out of her chest and forced her to display it for everyone who came across her. Her own personal scarlet letter, though this one being born of the crimson her blood was.

“Hello, Wrath. What are you doing here at this hour?”

He kept his tone friendly and light as he stepped over to the wall beside her, tilting his head down at her. She leaned against the brick, a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips as she watched him. He put on a facade, his silver tongue making a comeback as he spoke to her, though he knew well that she wouldn’t fall for his words. The best he could hope for was for her to relax slightly, to let him speak without drawing a weapon, and, at the lack of Peggies surrounding their ever-so-holy leader, she seemed to do just that.

“Just saw Nick and Kim off. Despite you and your peggies constant terror, it seems some good finally came to the Rye household.”

“Ah, so Kim delivered fine then?”

“Mmhm.”

“I should send a present, something for the little tyke.”

“Yeah right.” He earned a little laugh from her, even if it was sarcastic, he couldn’t help the small smirk that etched onto his features at her voice. Yes, John Seed was a man obsessed with someone he couldn’t have. “Kim told me you tried to convince everyone the baby was actually yours and not Nick’s.”

“I was just having some fun, they shouldn’t have taken it so seriously. Besides, that was months ago.” He shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside her, his goal of going to ask for directions now gone as he was in her presence. Despite his nature, she consumed his every waking moment. Every thought of his belonged to her, every word he spoke had her name etched onto it. He was pathetic.

“I’m sure it just added to the list of things you’ve done to fuck with them.” The Deputy rolled her eyes, amber ash falling from the head of the cigarette and onto the ground below them. He liked watching her supple lips part to welcome the taste of nicotine into her mouth.

“I’m a Herald, Deputy, everything I do is for the good of others.”

“Mm, remember the time you told me you’ve never lied to me?”

“Yes? What about it?”

“There's a lie right there.”

He smirked slightly, watching her with his deep blue eyes, and shook his head. He couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered in his chest at this moment. There was no chase, no cat and mouse game, just the two of them standing underneath the moonlight, with no one but god as their witness. “Well, what if I believe it's true?”

“Then you’re a liar and you’re delusional.” She hummed, looking back at him. There was a silence for a moment as she offered him her cigarette, a certain intimacy in his lips touching the filter where hers had before. He felt like a schoolboy again, though this time without the threat of his parents looming over him.

The crickets chirped around them as they took turns with the cigarette, it seemed to be a peaceful night. After a moment or two, she let him have the last of what was left in the bud and stepped forward towards her truck. Curiously, he stamped the cigarette out and followed after her.

“Where are you going?” He asked, sounding almost pathetic, like a puppy kicked away from the door his owner was walking out of. He craved this normalcy with her more than he thought he would, though part of him yearned to get back to the cat-and-mouse games.

“The Spread Eagle, probably. Gonna chase down the nicotine high with some of Mary May’s whiskey.” She shrugged as she opened the door to her truck, moving her AR-C aside and disturbing the indents of where Boomer always slept during long rides through the county.

He watched her body as she bent over to move her gun from the seat, how her hips swayed slightly. He bit his bottom lip slightly, his blue eyes never leaving her figure. Part of him yearned for his life before he reunited with Joseph. Maybe he wasn’t truly happy then, and maybe the Deputy incited withdrawals from him that he thought he had gotten over years ago, but alcohol sounded great right now.

“You seem so quick to leave my company. You’re always like this, I open my arms to you, let you into my bunker, and offer you atonement, but you’re always itching to leave. Do I make you uncomfortable?” He tilted his head as she stood up, turning to face the Herald once more.

He didn’t bother hiding the fact he had been staring at her ass for the better half of a minute, nor did her care about subduing his tone that was increasingly growing more and more lustful as he stepped closer to her. He wanted to feel her under his touch, to smell the gunpowder and blood that lingered on her. This time, it would really be the Deputy, he wouldn’t have to pretend.

“Let me into your bunker? Last time I checked you had your Peggies shoot me with bliss bullets and strap me to a chair there. You don’t exactly have a warm and welcoming nature, Seed.” She replied, crossing her arms slightly. He knew she was quickly losing her patience with him when she referred to him only by his last name.

“I just want you to reach atonement, Deputy. I want you to be better, for yourself, for the father.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he stepped closer to her, so close he could lean into her ear to speak. She grimaced slightly at the mention of the Father - Joseph.

“You don’t need to call him that, he’s your brother. And you shouldn’t speak to me about atonement, who gave you those marks on the back of your neck?”

He blinked a few times at her words, reaching his hand back to feel the indents that had been left. He hissed softly, of course, Holly had left marks without his say-so. She seemed to enjoy doing what he told her not to. Not to change her appearance so he could imagine it was the woman in front of him he was fucking, not to leave marks that he would have to explain to his followers - or worse, his brothers. But did she listen? No.

“Not you.”

Now it was the Deputy’s turn to be confused, her eyes fluttering up to meet his dark blue ones. She cocked her head to the side slightly, just enough to really examine him. He seemed confident in his words, but of course it wasn’t her, what was he trying to get out of this? “Yeah, obviously? Are you feeling okay, Seed?”

Again with the last name, it was starting to get on his nerves. He wanted nothing more than to grab her at this moment, to press her against the peeling upholstery of the old truck she drove around, to make her scream his name for everyone to hear - for her to call him not by a shared surname, but by his name. And suddenly he understood Adam and Eve, with a snake tempting him so sweetly, he’d be a fool not to take a bite of the apple, wouldn’t he?

“Why can’t you just say Yes, Deputy? Why do you have to make this so difficult? Why do you have to make me stoop into the sin you so freely roll around in?” He cocked his head to the side slightly, taking a step closer to her. His leg slid between hers as she pressed herself back against the side of the seat.

But she didn’t tell him no this time, she didn’t shove him off or slap him. He heard the breath that caught in her throat, he saw the way her eyes fluttered between his and the skin of his chest exposed by the undone buttons of his silk shirt. Sloth, written over his chest, crossed out. How would the scarred skin feel under her touch? How would the ink of the countless tattoos on his body be complimented by the scratches she would leave on him?

“You don’t need the ego boost, the day I say yes to a monster like you is the day my dignity dies.” Oh the Deputy, always a fighter. He would help her with that, gladly, a burial inside the truck for only John and God himself to witness. A small smirk played on his face as his hands trailed over her hips, a ghost of a touch but enough to ignite a fire in her eyes.

He wouldn’t need her to say yes, she would be screaming it by the time he was done. He would drag orgasm and orgasm out of her till her atonement was spelled in the arousal that would coat the truck's upholstery. He would make a saint out of her yet, make the only words that fall from her lips holy and pure till they were alone. She would never have to worry about the bullets that grazed her skin or the wounds that marked her flesh, he would wash away her sins.

So many dirty thoughts from the Herald, but he couldn’t control himself now. His hands belonged to the devil as they trailed up from her hips, one caressing her neck - which he would make sure to have covered with as many marks as he could by the time he was done with her - and the other slipping beneath her shirt. He tilted his head down at her, smug yet coy as his fingertips brushed the wire band of her bra, yet another barrier between the two.

Her eyes weren’t on him, though. They studied elsewhere, fixed on the door to the clinic and the road. What would others say if they saw the two together? Sharky and Adelaide had to have been just joking when they said she should get with the youngest Seed brother - that it would save the resistance’s ass. She bit her inner cheek, doubting that that would be the truth. John Seed was a sadistic monster who reveled in other's pain and suffering, but something about his touch made her want to melt.

“There’s nothing but me to look at, Deputy. For right now, you’re mine.”

If John was a man obsessed with someone he couldn’t have, the Deputy was cut from the same cloth. She couldn’t have him, not really, even if she accepted his atonement, even if he cut the sin from her body - John Seed would always be obsessed with an idea of her, she was his greatest conquest because she never said yes to him, and if she stopped fighting he would lose interest.

But tonight, under nothing but the moonlight and the roof of her truck? Tonight, she could have him.

So she didn’t protest when he stepped into her more, when he pushed her back against the worn seat and kissed her neck with the fervor of a man starved. She said nothing because her breathing spoke for her, the way it picked up and became laced with soft whimpers as he grazed his teeth over an old scar. Yes, he relished in her pain, he couldn’t help but smile at her burning in the cleansing fire of his love.

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling it back to expose her neck. He sat up over top of her, a small smirk playing on his face as he looked down at her. She looked so pathetic under him, her neck colored in flushed pink and dark red, a product of him. He trailed a hand down over the forming hickeys, pressing his fingertips against the sides of her neck. Not enough to choke her, but enough for her to part her pretty lips to breathe through her mouth.

The Herald reveled in the power he had over her, her life balancing in the palm of his hand. It would be far too easy to kill her now, to make up for the anger he felt every time a silo was blown up or an outpost was overtaken. How easy everything would be if she gave her life force over to him, cutting the head off the snake that was the resistance.

But it was far more fun to keep her alive, to toy with her like a cat would a mouse, to shed her of her shirt and unclasp her bra and run his tongue against her sensitive, budding nipple. To relish in the sounds of her soft whines that overtook her breathing, to feel her fingers tangle in his slicked-back raven hair.

“Fuck.”

An understatement, her words breathy and sweet, as if she was reciting a prayer meant only for his ears. His blue eyes fluttered to look up at her, enjoying the way she looked down at him, lust building on her features. She would atone for him, but not with her words.

He trailed down her body, lips catching on every old scar and bullet wound, every imperfection left on her beautiful body. She would be cleansed of all of these when he was done with her, she would be born anew with him right by her side. His fingers caught on the waistband of her jeans, dirtied with blood and grass stains on the knees, not proper attire for her baptism, so he shed those from her as well.

Left in only her underwear, shivering against the cold that seeped into the truck, she looked down at him with a frown, grazing over the silk of his blue shirt. He was overdressed, though he made no moves to match her. With his head in line with her pelvis, he grasped the fingers that worked on his buttons, giving her a pointed look which she matched with a soft whine.

“Deputy.”

“John - c'mon, it's not fair…”

“I’ll decide what's fair and what’s not. When I want it to come off, it will. For now, hands off.”

A sigh left her lips but she complied with him, letting go of the buttons he wore and instead focusing on him as he moved lower, as his fingers trailed over the growing wetness seeping through her underwear. She recoiled slightly, feeling the cold of his fingers through the warm fabric, and was met only by a soft tsk from John.

He watched her, studied every reaction as he slipped off the last remaining article of clothing that blocked him from getting a full view of her. She was something out of an oil painting, crafted by God specifically for him. How had he gotten so lucky that she was his rival? How had they both gotten to this point, surely from the tensions built every time he would kidnap her, when he would clean her chest with a sponge to prepare for the marking he hadn’t gotten around to doing quite yet.

Grazing over her folds, catching her clit in his grasp, he relished in the sounds that the truck filled with. Soft gasps giving way to needy moans as he gathered her slick and coated his fingers in it. His eyes hungry as he peered up at her through his eyelashes, tongue swiping over her once and then twice before spitting. Her fingers tangled in his hair harshly as he pushed a finger inside before it was quickly joined by a second, humming when greeted by how tight her walls were.

“Funny, I expected you to have more experience.” He grinned, his perfect snake in the garden, reaping what she had sown. John had earned every hitch of her breath, every noise that fell from her lips belonged to him. Patience is a virtue, after all.

“Kinda ha-h… hard to get some privacy when you’re the resista- fuck!”

He couldn’t help but smirk as she was interrupted by the curling of his fingers, brushing against a certain bundle of nerves as he stretched her out in preparation for his cock. He hummed in response, teasing her. How sweet it was to have the big bad Deputy be putty in his hands. John absolutely adored the fact that he was her only in a long time, it stroked his ego lovingly.

When he was satisfied with the moans that fell from her lips and how she could hardly focus on anything other than the sensations he was providing her, he pulled out. Chuckling at a needy moan she gave him at the feeling of emptiness, he licked the coating of her slick from his fingers, tsking and looking down at her.

“Patience, Deputy. Be a good girl.” Once his fingers were properly cleaned and the taste of her arousal was set on his tongue nicely, he unbuckled his pants and allowed them to pool at his ankles, his lips fluttering over her exposed neck while he worked on pulling his shirt off.

Perfect tattoos decorated his body like the ceiling of a temple, each one telling a different story. John Seed was a man who had his life mapped out on each limb, allowing for her to trace all of him, to know all of him. He pulled away from her neck, bullying his two fingers past her lips and having her suck on them, tasting herself.

He focused on the way she sucked, how soft moans escaped her, and how her eyes fluttered closed, content to have this soft moment. God, he wanted to ruin it for her. He did not pull away yet, not as he ran the head of his hardened cock over her folds, precum mingling with her own fluids. When he did pull his fingers away from her, he made sure she watched as he lubed himself up with her saliva.

He could’ve come at the sharp gasp elicited from her as he pushed inside, inch by inch till he bottomed out and she was left in a state of bliss. He groaned softly at how perfect she was, how her walls were practically made for him, dragging every noise from his lips. The Deputy never thought she’d see the day when John Seed was moaning for anyone - especially not her. She considered herself lucky that the Herald was coming undone simply by the feeling of her.

Though, her smugness faded as he began to move. Shallow thrusts at first that were quickly replaced by deep, rhythmic movements. His mouth latched onto her neck once more, his teeth dragging over her soft skin in an effort to leave his bite markings against her pretty flesh. Her nails drug against his back, sharp, stinging scrapes that complimented the dark ink of his tattoos well. He never let others mark him as she had, but she was special - he would be proud to show off what she left on him.

Her legs wrapped against his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper inside her. She was practically screaming in his ear, the truck shaking with his movements. Thrust after thrust, he abused her G-spot well, toes curling and legs trembling in his wake. She pistoned her hips up to meet his, arching her back and letting him latch onto her breasts now.

“You gonna cum f’me?” He groaned out, blue eyes focused on how she shook, how her walls clenched around him at his words. She was close, teetering on the edge, and he wasn’t far behind her. Her nods weren’t good enough, neither were the little noises she attempted to choke out between her moans. No, he wanted to hear her speak. “Use your words.”

“Yes! Fuck - yes please-” Manners and all, he grinned at her response. He had gotten her to say it, just as he knew he would. That allusive ‘yes’ he had been waiting far too long to hear. He really couldn’t help himself now as a tattooed hand moved from her hips to rub her swollen clit.

Thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier, if this was heaven the Deputy was more than happy to atone for it. Her legs spasmed slightly, walls clenching around him as white toyed at her eyes, orgasm crashing down against him. It didn’t take much longer for him to follow suit, his own cum mixing with hers, white beading at the base of his cock as he pressed himself inside her, having her take him all.

She whined softly, panting and looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. His breath was heavy, fingers running through her hair as they both caught their breath, inevitable guilt creeping up in the Deputy’s chest. John Seed was the enemy, he was a monster, and she had just let him fuck her into the best orgasm of her life. Stupid, stupid.

But John, he seemed far too proud of himself. He didn’t need her to say anything anymore, he didn’t need the taped confession for his older brother. No, now he had this, her atonement that coated his softening cock. He would always have this over her, how she screamed yes for him, and she seemed to realize that.

“You know - that ‘yes’ doesn’t count.”

“Oh? Should I make you say it again?”

[l0v3tast3]

141 x young! Reader that can do the rock face and does it to them when they're in an argument.

Like shes on the counter, trying to reach for the cookies on the top shelf and someone walks in and sees her.

They tell her to get down and all they're met with is:

Sorry if this is a weird rq

✎ this is weird but in a wonderful way

✎ tags: gender neutral reader, young military reader, fluff, not proofread im too cool for that as usual

♡ the first time you do it is when you hear kyle say he just discovered a show or movie that you also like. you drawl an excited, "oh really?" and raise your eyebrow with a slight turn of your head.

♡ he starts laughing because he recognizes the meme, and you two go on further about your new shared interest. the other three men are left confused and a tiny bit disturbed.

♡ price, soap, and ghost break off into their own conversation, not really acknowledging it, brushing it off as another one of the little "things" you do. they had known you long enough at this point to know not to question you too much.

♡ you start doing it a lot more. price asks you what you think of the hat when soap is once again trying to get him to take it off, and you make the face. ghost actually lets you borrow one of his books, and you make the face (out of disbelief, he took the book back). soap says he wants to watch something you don't really want to watch on the tv when you two are hanging out on your off hours, and you make the face.

♡ when it's just the four men together and you're off doing something else, they ask kyle just what the hell is the deal with that face you make. kyle asks what they mean and soap tries to demonstrate (not very well). kyle shows them the video of the rock doing it. soap thinks it's hilarious while simon and price are just sitting there like "what... the fuck?"

♡ one day it culminates in the form of you climbing on the counters. simon had moved your hoard of snacks to the highest shelf, of course, and the nearest chair was way too far away (there was one close enough to turn around and grab without taking a step).

♡ in walks ghost and price while you're just about to go from kneeling on the counters to standing on them. ghost grunts out "i put 'em up there for a reason!" and you whip your head around, eyebrow already raised.

♡ your expression turns into one of anger as he picks you up under your arms and hauls you off of the counter. you're like a cat, practically bristling as you squirm around. he plops you down and very gently cuffs the back of your head. "you're fuckin' weird, kid," is all you get while he grabs one of your snacks and walks out. price snickers and follows him out.

♡ you make sure to only do it to simon from then on.

[evilvvithin]

silent despair

pairing : john seed x reader (i wrote it as f!deputy!reader but it turned out to be gn too) warnings : blood and injury | implied sex but not detailed | love hate | possessiveness word count: 2,497 summary: What would happen if John was the one to survive the collapse? ➤ AO3 link | masterlist

In the first moments of coming back to your senses, the mix of strong cologne and smoke hit your nose. The air seemed heavy, almost hard to breathe and you felt like suffocating. Taking a deep breath, a sharp pain shot through your ribs and made you yelp out in surprise.  "Finally," a familiar voice filled the silence and ringed inside your aching head.  Stars danced at the edges of your vision as you tried to sit up. As if a restless swarm of bees was inside your skull, causing it to vibrate uncomfortably. Arms and legs numb you had to look down at your limbs to make sure they were really moving when you told them to. They weren't. Your hands handcuffed to the metal leg of the bunk bed, you tried to wrestle against them with no luck. "Still eager to fight despite your situation, I see. Some things about you never change, deputy."

You felt venom in his voice, anger, hidden behind his kind and peaceful mask he called a face. He smiled widely as he walked towards you, squatting down to your level. 

"Where-"

"Shhh sh sh."

His eyes piercing through you, fingers trailing the handcuffs, the stupid smile on his face. The time stopped and your eyes gazed down to his shirt which used to be blue. Just like his eyes. Now it was almost completely covered in dried blood. Pushing away the thoughts of kicking your knee into his stomach for tying you up, you wondered what had happened, looking around the room you were in for any clues.

He noticed how you calmed down, how your eyes jumped across his chest and the walls behind him. Looking for his bunker key at his now bruised chest. Pulling out another key from his pocket, he freed your hands but grabbed your wrists immediately, squeezing them painfully. You hissed in reaction, but got the message - don't do anything stupid. You didn’t even plan to. You just wanted to know what happened as your own memory was failing you due to its fogginess. Checking your ribs for any wounds or source of the pain you felt after waking up, a loud explosion deafened you and the whole room started to vibrate, dust falling down from the ceiling. There was your answer to what happened. The pictures of mushroom cloud, fire and death blinked through your head. All the screaming, pain… your friends… 

"The collapse," John looked up, the same smile on his face still. "Joseph was right, you know? He knew the whole time… my brother…" 

The mask of the baptist started to fade away - he didn't have to pretend anymore. The smile slowly disappeared as his whole expression hardened, jaws clenched. His eyes glowing with rage, but there was something else.

Sadness. Softness.

Cursing through gritted teeth, he grabbed you by the edge of your shirt and forced you up against the wall, hand squeezing your throat right after.

"You killed them. If only you listened to them! We could’ve been - “ 

The pressure built up in your head from the lack of air and vision started to blur, yet you didn't try to fight his hand.

"Doesn’t matter. Tell me one reason I shouldn't do the same to you!" 

His voice was calm but still sounded like a yell to you. You started to half laugh half cough, making his eyebrows furrow even more in fury. He was killing you with his gaze, not his hands. In his mind his hands squeezed your throat hard. Knuckles on his hand white, he’d release the grasp so you could catch a single breath just to cut your wind pipe again.

Oh, he would do so many things to you. 

"Why didn't you? Before?" You coughed. "You had so many chances."

He sighed and let go of you by throwing you further into the wall, though not so aggressively as before to kick air out of your lungs. You knew he had the reply, knew why he didn't kill you when he had the chance. But he wouldn't admit it. 

Would you? Would you admit why you didn’t kill him when you had so many chances?

John knew well you chose to hunt his siblings down rather than him. Playing cat and mouse, but both of you were the cat.  Lots of unfulfilled threats that led only to one thing - the collapse. You being stuck with him in a bunker underground. 

The longer you tried to keep standing against the wall, the more your muscles burned. The desire to lay down, close your eyes again and forget about everything again was overwhelming but you were determined to not show any kind of weakness. Your coughing and laughing filled the room. Have you lost your mind? Are you really gonna be down here with John? It wasn’t like you could change it. 

You didn’t want to. 

The shirt started to stick to your skin where you felt the sharp pain before. Your fingers felt the wetness when touching it and you didn't have to look down to know what it was. 

"Come."

Following John to the table across the room, you were sure your legs would fail you any step you took. He was watching you - was it a concerned look you saw on his face? Your blurry vision playing tricks on you? 

He was in fact concerned, watching every step of yours ready to grab your arm for support whenever you were about to fall. He didn't want you to know, he didn't want you to see his soft side. Not yet. He liked to believe he had none except for his brothers - he was lying to himself the whole life. He always had a soft side, buried deep inside him. Abandoned by his choice. Softness had no place in the life he lived before Eden’s Gate. No place in Eden’s Gate. It was a weakness and he locked everything making him weak deep inside. 

Till you showed up and made him weak. Vulnerable. He hated you for it, but at the same time admired you. You were untamed, wild fire that could make him both weak and strong and he realized rather quickly that capturing you like the others would not help him get stronger, no. You required a different approach. Approach that he thought he would never be able to do - to have feelings for someone, to feel vulnerable. 

The mutual feelings of you two, the connection of your souls and leadership - that’s what he visioned in his dreams. How perfect you two would be for Eden’s gate. At first, it seemed like a great plan, but the further John tried to make you join him, the more he started to care about you. Did he care about you more than about the project? No, he would never… He doubted himself in that question. Nevertheless he’d make everything work in the end. And he did, without even trying to. 

Grabbing bandages out of the emergency box, he waited for you to raise your shirt enough to expose the cut. Starting at your ribcage going down your belly, it wasn't deep but it was bleeding a lot.

"Just do it quick." 

Swallowing your pride, you let him circle you, touch you, wrapping the bandage all around your torso. Feeling his warm touch on your bare skin, you never realized how soft his hands could be. You believed all they could inflict was pain and torture.

"Want it harder?" 

The stupid smile on his face.

"Fuck you, John."

~~~

"You'll get us both killed!" John hissed  and caught your hand that tried to steal the bunker key from his neck. He started to wear it with him at all times since you found the spot where he hid it. And he was way more alert during sleeping than you thought. 

Saving your life and you still tried to get away from him, still fought him. Still… after all the days you two spent in close proximity. Or was it weeks? He liked it at times though. It spiced things a bit here under the ground, but he'd still rather receive obedience from you. Just like his followers in Hope County… but you weren't one of them. The knuckles whitened on his hand and you squinted as his grip became painful. The harder he held your wrist, the more you squeezed the key in your hand being as stubborn as you were usually, refusing to let go of it.

"Go then, do as you want." 

You almost lost balance and fell down at his chest when he released your hand. The tone of his voice was vile but the sparkle of hope that shined in your eye overcame everything else. You looked down at the key and hope was quickly replaced with a darker feeling - reality. John scoffed and murmured something to himself as the key landed back on his chest. 

You didn't want to die. Not today at least.

~~~

Warm breeze locked the naked skin of your upper body. The blanket must've slid down while you were sleeping. 

A breeze of fresh air… in a bunker? 

John's fingertips trailed up and down your arm softly, thinking he was gentle enough to not wake you up. His movements were slow, lazy. Your heartbeat raised a little and you hoped it wouldn't reveal you were awake. Your back turned to him, you laid still and your breath was shallow. His breath was warm against your skin. He seemed to be murmuring something to himself but you couldn't make a single word out. He was humming some kind of melody. 

All kinds of scenarios rushed through your head when he pulled the edge of your shirt down your shoulder. Pretend to be asleep no matter what? Then you'd be allowing whatever he planned on doing. Jump up and slap the soul out of him? Maybe, but you wouldn't know what he wanted to do… and mainly, why. 

Did you want him to stop? 

Did you want him to know you were awake?

The adrenaline rushed through your body as your mind was filling up with certain scenarios, making you change position in an attempt to hide it. John's hand retrieved and his murmuring stopped. You felt his gaze boring into the side of your head. Leaning closer to your face, his hot breath tickled your ear. If you turned around, you could taste his lips easily. Before you could do something you might regret later, the weight on the bed behind you disappeared as John walked away, silent like a cat. 

You were left alone with your cheek and ear burning, the gentle touch of his fingers still printed on your skin. It's been so long since you experienced any kind of intimacy, kindness in general. Past few months were nothing but an exhausting fight for your life and the lives of the other members of resistance. The few joyful moments that occurred? You were too tired to appreciate and enjoy them fully. Cursing yourself you didn't do anything when John was creeping above you, you played with the scenarios in your head for as long as sleep didn't take your consciousness away. 

~~~

"What did you do to Hudson?!" Blood was coming out of your mouth from John's punch, but the rage you felt numbed all possible pain. "You bastard!"

Him and his typical maniac smile. 

Everytime you two met before the collapse and fought each other, he had this smile on his face whenever you could've ended him. Laughing. Not really fighting you back. Almost like he wanted to die… or he didn't care if he did at least. Or he knew you couldn't kill him. He knew it and laughed at the absurd power he had over you. You hated him for it, you hated him because he was right.

"Hudson's gone now anyway, isn't she? What's all this about, then?"

Clenching your fists around the edge of his coat, half choking him with the fabric cutting into his throat, you stopped in your rage for long enough to think about what he said. You hated to admit it but he was right. 

He seemed to always be right.

Things that happened before the collapse? They were all meaningless now. What really mattered was this bunker, you, him and the danger levels outside. Were you truly angry about what he did to Hudson or did you just want a reason to start a fight with him? Did he want to start a fight when he told you, out of nowhere? 

Taunting, teasing, getting expected reactions from others just to remind himself he has power over them. Power to manipulate through emotions. Maybe he truly believed he was emotionless and nothing bothered him except his family - he lied to himself the whole time. He cared too much about you. He could've had you at any time before. Yet he didn't take you, no. He didn't want to take you, he wanted you to need him. To desire him. Give up to him. 

John grabbed your wrists to make you let go of his coat, his face unchanged. The smile… he won. He had all the reasons to smile - you were here with him, craving him, needing to feel the warmth of his body. The burst of emotions. There was no need to say it out loud. Letting your arms go limp in his hands, you leaned closer to his face. 

"Fuck you, John." 

Raising one of his eyebrows, the smile only grew bigger. 

"That's exactly what I was thinking," he let your hands go and pulled you closer by the back of your neck. 

You let yourself fall into the kiss - like a boat going down the river you didn't try to go against the stream at all. You still hated him but what you felt for him was growing stronger. Something you could not define with simple words. The iron taste of your blood filled your mouth and your tongue found his. The taste was somewhat hypnotizing, driving you further into the kiss. 

The satisfied grunt from John didn't surprise you a bit. You had an idea he'd like the taste of blood. That it'd turn him on. Violence in general. You heard the stories about Hudson and other Falls End people that managed to escape his bunker. You were there yourself after all, you spent more time with him than you'd like to imagine. 

It was all your choice - to let him live every time, let him get close to you. Let yourself fall for him. Let your lust win.

As the clothes on you both fell down to the ground piece by piece, you weren't bothered by the chilling air. You were on fire, you both were. Fire that needed to be put down and only one way of doing so. Everything about it was rough. Maybe you were still trying to kill each other but then decided not to, over and over again. 

Hate and anger being overcome by love and lust and it made you want to get lost in the moment forever. Get lost in John.

Your fingertips copied the edges of his scars, his skin still rough on touch from all the bruises that didn’t heal yet. The moans resonating within the thick concrete walls sounded like they were miles away from you - silenced by you replaying all your past choices that led you to this moment. 

Your nails clawed into one of his fresh scars causing John to whimper in both pain and pleasure. You didn’t do it on purpose. He knew. He felt the same joy, the same pleasure as you causing him to twitch and grasp onto you uncontrollably. It was like an out of body experience - like a bottle being constantly filled with water for years before finally overflowing and exploding. Exploding and being free. 

You both were finally naked in front of each other - no more lying about your feelings, no more hiding of your thoughts. No secrets. 

Bruises forming on the soft skin of your neck where John buried his head into, the sweat of your bodies becoming one. The jolts of pleasure shooting through your body, heavy panting, trembling. 

"I haven't forgiven you, John."

"I know."

[harmonycricket]

I really just need Mr. Capt. John Price to like. idk comfort or fuck me while I'm studying.

Like i imagine staying up this late would annoy him. It's 2am, and you're still lumped over your desk studying the same thing again just to be sure you don't forget anything.

He'll comment that you seem to have some energy. You'll respond that you get restless if your exams in a few hours, but you're way too jittery. You're too anxious. This is your second cup of the night.

So maybe he'll spoon you from behind, press you against the desk lovingly and make use of that anxious energy for something else.

Or!

He could just pick you up, put you to bed with some nice warm chamomile tea and ease a blanket over you while he praises you for working so hard. for putting your whole ass into making reviewers that make sense of the shitty power points and for doing all you can to pass your exams.

he'll lay next to you, kiss you a few more times until you fall asleep. Then in maybe a few hours, you get to wake up, still tired, but a little more refreshed and he's still there for you. You get another tea and a few more kisses.

[koshkahhh]

i uhm...i may have placed him a bit weird.

I swear i am not bad at RDR2 i am just a girl.😭

[ghouljams]

I’m going through fae fic withdrawal ghoul TT

Y'know I kinda am too, here's the the conversation right before Gaz tried to tap Witch. Told from the golden boy's POV.

Gaz does his best not to shift on his feet standing outside the little cottage. It’s so out of place in the city, bracketed on either side by taller more modern brownstones. Exactly the sort of place he would have imagined a witch to be. Price knocks on the door with a heavy hand as Gaz glances over his shoulder. It feels like he’s intruding on something, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end just from proximity to the house. The knocks are met with absolute silence, not a peep from inside the house. 

He can feel the arcs of magic though, the spectral movement of life behind the cottage walls. There’s the soft click of a lock and the door is pulled open. Price smiles.

You’re pretty, and younger than he’d have thought. You look about his age, or at least the age he’s pretending to be. Gaz glances at Price, the fondness in his eyes. What is it? Half your age and seven? Although, Gaz supposes that can’t really count here unless you have a spare few hundred you’re not showing. Probably not, you smell human.

“Price,” You frown, brows drawing together in confusion, Gaz meets your gaze with a smile, “and friend. I assume you’re here for business then.” You sigh and step aside, holding the door open. “Come on in, I’ll put a kettle on.”

“This should be quick,” Price assures you, nodding for Gaz to follow him into the house. It feels like stepping through molasses. Slow and sticky, pulling at him until he breaks through the threshold. Permeable, but only just. Gaz rolls his shoulders to shake the feeling off, following Price where you wave for them to take a seat. The couch you direct them to looks old, feels old if he counts the hands that have touched it. Still, it’s comfortable and sturdy when the two men sit.

“Quick or not business is business and that means tea,” You call from the kitchen. An ornamental butterfly on the wall flutters its wings in agitation. 

“You’re sure this is the witch?” Gaz whispers to Price. When he’d said he knew who to talk to about Soap’s problem you weren’t really what Gaz had in mind.

“Positive,” Price leans back against the couch, folding his hands over his stomach. Perfectly relaxed. Gaz doesn’t see how he could be, all the foreign magic in the air is starting to make his head spin a little. He swallows, pinching the bridge of his nose, more than a little. This place feels like a fucking whirlwind, made to disorient. Price settles a hand on his back, and the next time Gaz inhales he smells smoke. 

He takes a deeper breath, closes his eyes to feel his mentor’s magic steady him. The swirling smoke, familiar, clears his head, settles his vision. “Should’ve warned you,” Price mumbles, “it’ll clear.”

“I’m good,” Gaz tells him, just as a clatter of teacups are set on the table in front of him. The noise jostles Price’s magic, knicks him.

“This should help,” You tell both of them, fingers careful on the teapot as you pour. “Count it a compliment,” You smile at Gaz when he looks up at you, “not everyone is smart enough to know they’re surrounded.” It’s an ominous statement for the sweetness in your smile. Gaz doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be threatened by that or not. He takes the tea, what else is he supposed to do?

Hyssop. It clears his head as soon as it touches his tongue, settles the magic around him like the final acceptance of his presence. Funny how quickly magic can flip on a person. You must get enough fae visitors to know what to do, that’s reassuring at least. Price takes little more than a single swallow before setting his cup down. Not one for bitter teas if he can help it. You take your seat opposite them, and pick up a deck of playing cards from the table.

“Is he your apprentice?” You ask, shuffling cards.

“Supposed to be.” Price leans forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Hm,” you hum, looking Gaz over, “I suppose you do like pretty.”

“I like a lot of things sweetheart,” Price rumbles, his voice lower than Gaz has heard in a long time. He glances between the two of you, narrows his eyes at the silk strand tethers that silver between you.

“So I’ve heard,” you are far too fond to count as business-like.

“You’re askin’ around about me?” Price’s eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Should I be?” You lean forward, and Gaz has had just about enough of this.

“Do you two want to find a more private room?” He asks, cutting through whatever strange dance his boss and you are performing. You clear your throat and sit back, Price doesn’t move. His eyes are just as warm as they were, Gaz hardly thinks he heard him. Except maybe to take the jab into strong consideration. God if he tries to cart you off somewhere, Gaz will just leave. No point sticking around if- You know he’s really having second thoughts about your ability to help them now.

“What can I help with?” There, that sounds way more professional. Flirting with his fucking boss, Gaz is about to lose his damn mind. 

“One of my boys found your trap,” Price says, no beating around the bush. You hum.

“Which one?”

Price blinks. Gaz blinks. Which one? Which one, what? Which boy or which trap? No, he knows what you’re asking.

“Does it matter?” Price asks finally.

“I suppose not,” you shrug, “did it kill him?”

“Did it-” Gaz feels anger well in his chest, you’re so casual with it. “Price,” He looks to his mentor for… Gaz doesn’t know, confirmation(?) that he’s hearing this too. Price holds out a hand to keep him in his seat. 

“Soap’s fine. Lucky I had your little hexbreaker on me, could’ve been a lot worse,” Price explains, you stop your shuffling.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Tell us how to get rid of the trap.” Price presses.

“Except there, I’m afraid.” You sigh, and spread your cards on the table. Your fingers carefully push certain ones up, scoot others to the side, as if you’re picking the ones you like best. “I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Gaz asks.

“Doesn’t matter,” You say firmly. “Besides, it sounds like the problem is taken care of.”

Gaz and Price exchange a glance, the problem far from taken care of. Soap is a stubborn bastard, one who doesn’t take kindly to threats. It’s better to clear the fae trap from the city before he goes looking for them again.

“Right, then just tell us how to break it,” Gaz tries diplomatically.

“No,” you tell him plainly, sipping your tea. Price’s eyes spark watching you, eager and entirely unhelpful. “You’re asking me to help someone who couldn’t even come here himself, against something I created, and you’ve given me no good reason as to why I should help in the first place.”

"What'll it cost?" Price asks.

"I'm not for sale," It's the finality in your voice that really settle's Gaz's mind.

This is going nowhere fast. He pushes down the spark of annoyance, no rules are being broken, they have no favors to cash in, and the witch clearly knows well enough to give them the runaround. There’s only one way forward, and that’s back. Time for a reset.

"Why don't we just wipe her and try again?" Gaz asks, pushing himself to his feet.

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Idiotic Hero

Summary: Nikki Sixx chooses a random fan from the crowd to come on stage and it happens to be you. But what happens when a person with a knife pushes through security and runs straight towards you both?

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Mötley Crüe & Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings- language, blood, serious injury, mentions of past drug & alcohol abuse

Part 1

The World Tour: Mötley Crüe and Def Leppard.

It was actually happening. Eight years since Mötley Crüe's 'final tour' in 2015 and they were back performing live not just in front of crowds on a stage but in front of tens of thousands of fans in stadiums all across the world.

You couldn't stop pinching yourself as you leant against the barricade in the front row of their concert. How you even managed to get such great tickets was a question you still couldn't answer but you were so incredibly happy.

Growing up your father raised you on rock music. Mötley Crüe, Aerosmith, AC/DC, Guns 'N Roses, Bon Jovi, Alice Cooper, the list was basically infinite.

There was no shortage of rock music in your childhood house. Your father was the one who introduced you to Mötley Crüe, but little five-year-old you had no idea how far your obsession and hyper-fixation with this band would go.

From listening to Girls Girls Girls in the back of your father's truck on the way to school to blasting Kickstart My Heart many years later while driving home from your dead-end job. Mötley Crüe was your favourite band. As a child you enjoyed their music, blissfully unaware of the meaning behind some of their songs as you shouted the lyrics from the backseat. But despite liking their music at a young age, you never became a full-on fan or Crüehead until you were older.

Now, you understood the meaning behind their songs and lyrics... some quite questionable (yes, I'm looking at you All In The Name Of...) but they were still great songs that resonated deeply within you. Now you were older you were able to properly appreciate the music. Most of Mötley Crüe's songs were close to your heart. Afraid and Home Sweet Home more so than any others.

Being able to see them live in person was something you were still struggling to comprehend. Even now as you stood in front of the barricade staring at the empty stage in front of you waiting for the concert to start, it was still unimaginable. It felt as if you were dreaming. And you feared that your alarm clock would wake you up any minute. But that annoying ringtone never rang, instead loud emergency buzzing started as the large screens either side of the stage lit up with the words;

'NATIONAL ALERT Primary Entry Point System Issued an Emergency Action Notification'

If you hadn't been so obsessed with this band, you might have been worried reading those words and hearing the emergency alarm. But you had already seen YouTube videos of their World Tour concerts and knew the show was about to get wild. Literally.

The guitar intro for Wild Side started shortly after and you stood there mouth agape in awe as John 5, Mötley's new guitarist, appeared out of nowhere shredding on his guitar.

Many hated John 5 simply because of the fact he was standing where Mick Mars used to be. And yeah, you understood that. Mick Mars is an absolute beast with a guitar, but John 5 was a damn good guitarist too. From playing with Rob Zombie and Marilyn Manson, John 5 had the experience and the skill to continue on Mick's legacy with Mötley Crüe. And he was proving that right before your eyes.

Suddenly drums joined in with the guitar and your head snapped to the left in shock to find Tommy Lee sitting behind his drum kit. You had been so focused on John 5 in his long white coat you didn't even notice Tommy sneaking up on stage and by the screams coming from the mass crowd behind you, nobody else did either.

Then Nikki Sixx and Vince Neil rushed out from the side onto the stage, and you began screaming in pure happiness with the crowd.

This was real.

Mötley Crüe were here. They were right in front of you.

Holy fucking shit.

It was actually happening.

Your internal freak out was cut short when Vince began to scream those first words and suddenly everything else around you faded away as you got sucked into the music.

All your life issues and problems outside of this stadium vanished. All the stress and pressure from work, gone. Nothing else mattered in this moment as you stared at the band, at the four men on stage who meant everything to you.

"How you guys doing tonight?!" Vince shouted through the microphone after finishing Wild Side and Shout At The Devil. Hewalked up to the front of the stage staring out at the crowd who all cheered and screamed in response. "Now tell me, who likes to listen to the old shit?"

The crowd went ballistic and you right along with them as you screamed up at Vince who was smirking at the fans. Vince Neil was a showman. He loved performing and putting on a show for everyone. This was what he was born to do and even now at 62 years of age, he was still rocking it.

"How about something from the first album?" He asked and the crowd cheered so loudly it hurt your ears and Vince grinned turning back to his bandmates. "Let's do it!"

John 5 suddenly unleashed on his guitar, Tommy joining in with his drums and you grinned ear to ear recognising Too Fast For Love instantly.

Don't Go Away Mad Live Wire Looks That Kill The Dirt

Song after song and you were in pure bliss listening to them play while screaming along with Vince to the words. And when Tommy sat down behind the piano that got wheeled onto stage, tears were burning in your eyes before the song even started.

Home Sweet Home.

This song meant so much to you. After moving out of home young for your career and living over eight hours away from your friends and family this song hit you harder than any other.

You knew there was a chance you'd tear up during this song, but after the first few words "you know I'm a dreamer" you were done for. Silent tears trickled down your face as you sung the words that meant so much to you.

Nikki walked around the back of the piano patting Tommy's shoulder before he stood at the edge of stage right in front of you. His eyes scanned over the crowd in amazement. Even after 40+ years of touring you could tell that Nikki never took this for granted as he stared out at his fans in genuine happiness.

"But my heart's of gold I had to run away high So I wouldn't come home low"

Nikki placed his hand over his inner elbow while Vince sang which only made you cry harder knowing all about his battle with heroin that had killed him back in 1987. You briefly thought back to his book The Heroin Diaries and all the pain and suffering inside those pages. Nikki had been through so much shit yet overcame his drug and alcohol addictions and was now living his best life. 22 years sober. You were so incredibly proud of him.

Suddenly, as if Nikki could somehow sense your thoughts his head turned, and his beautiful smoky eyes locked with yours.

"Take me to your heart." You sang in tune with Vince as Nikki placed his hand over his heart while maintaining eye contact.

You continued to sing the lyrics. Nikkis smile widening with each word. Tears were still trickling down your face, but you didn't wipe them away as you sang, and he eventually turned his attention away leaving you standing there feeling breathless.

Now that your eyes weren't locked with the bassist you took a moment to turn and look at the crowd yourself. Lights from phones illuminated the entire stadium. You stood there with wide eyes watching all the lights going round and round in tune with the beat while Vince sung his heart out.

After Home Sweet Home they got into Smokin' In The Boys Room. It was amazing.

As they continued through the songs, you occasionally caught Nikki looking at you. Sometimes briefly, just one flash of his beautiful smoky eyes before he was looking away again. But sometimes he'd hold your gaze for a few moments while he strummed away on his bass, and you sang the words to each and every song with so much passion and enthusiasm.

Nikki probably thought you were crazy. You knew every word to every song and hell, you were even sporting his signature black war stripes on your cheeks that matched his own identically.

"I wanna introduce you to somebody who's up here." Vince suddenly said through the microphone. "He's my brother. He's a badass. And he's a bass player. Give it up for Mr. Nikki Sixx!" Vince shouted pointing at the bassist in question who began walking to the front of the stage his bass no longer strapped around his shoulder.

Nikki and Vince fist bumped as they walked past each other. The singer disappeared off stage for a drink break with the rest of the band leaving Nikki alone on stage as he walked up to the microphone pole.

"Well, how the fuck are you guys doing?" Nikki called out speaking for the first time. "Anyone wanna come up here on stage with me?"

Your heart thundered in your chest like a drum as Nikki's eyes scanned the crowd before locking with yours. Then your heart quite literally stopped and all you could do was stare right back at him as he pointed at you and curled his finger up in a come here motion.

"Get that beautiful girl up here." Nikki ordered his gaze holding yours for a moment before he turned back to the rest of the crowd and continued to talk about the tour.

If someone held a gun to your head and told you to repeat what Nikki was now talking about. You'd be dead because you were not listening to a word the bassist was saying anymore as blood rushed in your ears. All you could focus on was the security guard walking over to you as you shakily began climbing over the barricade.

The guard helped you over safely before guiding you around to the side of stage and pointed at the stairs without a word.

Wait, were you meant to just walk up the stairs onto the stage? Did Nikki want you up there now? Oh, God you were panicking and overthinking this.

"I saw you singing every word to every song. Come up here." Nikki's voice cut through your internal panic as he appeared at the top of the stairs and held his hand out towards you.

Sucking in a deep breath trying to calm your nerves, you took Nikki's hand and climbed onto stage. And holy fuck there were a lot of people in that crowd. It was a never-ending sea of fans packed into the stadium and all of them were staring at you and Nikki.

"It's okay. Don't be nervous, sweetheart." Nikki whispered lowering the microphone so nobody else could hear him. "What's your name?"

"Y/N."

He smiled, "pretty name. It suits you."

You couldn't stop the small smile from spreading across your face at his compliment as you ducked your head feeling your cheeks blushing.

"It's fans like you guys that make all this possible." Nikki began to say into the microphone before he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. "And if you'll have us, we will be back soon I promise you that!"

The crowd erupted in applause and screams causing you to flinch not expecting it. Nikki's arm tightened around you ever so slightly noticing your reaction. He continued to talk to the crowd while holding you against his side. You allowed yourself to relax in his hold and leant into his touch getting memorised by his musky cologne.

It was hard to believe Nikki Sixx was 64. He still ran around on stage with his bass like he did back in the 80s. Well, maybe not as much. Nikki did used to drink Jack Daniels straight from the bottle and roll around on stage back in the day. His beard and hair were obviously dyed now, but he looked damn good for his age. The thick muscular arm holding onto you was enough proof to say that Nikki Sixx aged like fine wine. He was only getting better and better as the years passed.

"I have a very important question for you." Nikki began to say, and you tilted your head up surprised to find him looking right back at you.

Oh, he wasn't talking to the crowd anymore. He was talking straight to you.

His face was so close to yours you could smell a hint of mint on his breath. It was strangely refreshing.

You bit your lip nervously and nodded staring into his beautiful sea green eyes awaiting his question anxiously.

"What song would you like us to play next? It's your choice."

Oh my God.

The crowd all started shouting song names that you couldn't quite decipher as you held Nikki's gaze. He was smirking like he could see you suddenly panicking because despite the fact that you knew every single one of their songs from all the albums, you were coming up blank.

Nothing.

Not one song title was coming to mind.

"Give us a song we haven't played in years!" A familiar voice called out causing the crowd to cheer.

You glanced over your shoulder to find Tommy Lee strolling back onto stage with his drum sticks in his hands. God, he had aged like fine wine too.

Then Vince Neil and John 5 began to make their way back on the stage. Hell, all of Mötley Crüe had aged like fine wine, who were you kidding? John 5 was younger than the others but still looked fantastic in his 50s. Vince always copped so much hate on social media due to his weight gain, but fuck those haters because Vince Neil looked damn good for his age. And he had lost a significant amount of weight since their last tour back in 2015.

Mötley Crüe's good looks were not helping your sudden internal freak out though as you turned your head back to Nikki who was smiling at you like he knew what was running through your head.

"Afraid from Generation Swine or Knock 'Em Dead Kid from Too Fast For Love. You can pick which one you like better." You hurriedly answered the second your brain decided to actually function.

You were honoured to be able to choose the next song, but was worried that you'd pick a song the guys wouldn't like or a song that you couldn't remember very well. At least this way the four of them could decide which one they wanted to play themselves.

Nikki grinned, "I knew I picked you for a reason. You're clearly a fan. I like you."

Hearing those words coming from Nikki Sixx himself was something you didn't know you needed to hear. Your heart fluttered as you smiled at him but didn't dare trust yourself to speak fearing you'd either stutter your words and make a fool of yourself or just start bawling your eyes out from happiness.

"Fuck yeah! You have no idea how many people just pick the popular songs. It's boring." Vince's voice piped up through his own microphone.

"Why don't we play both?" John suggested.

Nikki glanced back down at you and opened his mouth to speak but then the crowd suddenly started shouting snapping his attention away from you abruptly.

The shouting from the crowd didn't sound right though. And by the way Nikki's body had turned tense on alert beside you, you knew something was wrong.

The fans in the crowd closest to the stage were all yelling and pointing at something behind you. Nikki quickly turned, his arm slipping from your shoulder as you spun around and that's when you saw the stranger running on stage.

Vince and John quickly backed away while security swarmed the area frantically trying to climb up onto the stage to stop the unknown man. Nikki raised his arm in front of your body almost protectively as the man turned towards you both with a crazed look in his eye.

Suddenly, he bolted straight towards you. But he wasn't looking at you. His wide eyes were zeroed in on one thing and one thing only, Nikki Sixx.

Security were hot on his tail. But the man was fast. Too fast. Then, he reached into his jacket pocket, and you saw a flash of a silver blade.

In a split second you realised two things; one, security weren't going to stop this crazy man in time and two, he had a knife and he was heading straight for Nikki.

Without thinking you pushed the bassist to the side not expecting your own sudden strength as Nikki fell off the side of the stage. But you didn't have time to worry if he was okay or not because the next thing you knew the crazy man crashed straight into you instead of his intended target.

You stumbled back a few steps at the impact but managed to keep your feet before shoving him off you. That was all the time security needed before they grabbed the crazy man who instantly started thrashing like a wild animal in their grip.

The crowd around you had turned eerily silent as they watched security struggling to contain the intruder. More guards jumped onto the stage to assist and eventually the group of them managed to get the man under control and began escorting him off stage.

Your heartbeat was skyrocketing. Body shaking with adrenaline as you breathed heavily watching the man still trying to fight the guards.

Wait, Nikki.

As if on cue, the bassist appeared out of nowhere after lifting himself up the side of the stage with a grunt before limping over to you. Guilt instantly washed over you because he was favouring his right foot and it clearly hurt.

"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" You hurriedly questioned rushing over to him on instinct as you looked down at his boot worriedly.

"Am I okay? Are you?" He questioned in shock his eyes raking over your body looking for any signs of injury.

But then his face drained of all colour and his eyes paused over your midsection and widen into saucers.

You frowned and followed his line of sight and had to do a double take when you saw the knife sticking out your lower abdomen.

The man stabbed you.

How the hell did you not notice that?

Suddenly, it was as if a switch had been flipped and the adrenaline soaring through your veins began to subside and that's when the pain started. White hot pain radiated through your body like a fire burning from within.

"Oh fuck." Nikki swore under his breath.

Without thinking, you reached down with shaky fingers and grabbed the handle of the knife.

"Wait, don't-"

You yanked the blade out before Nikki could finish that sentence.

It hurt. You needed to get it out. But that did nothing to stop the pain though. If anything, it hurt more causing you to cry out as the blade slipped from your now bloodied fingers and fell to the floor of the stage.

Blood began to pour from the open wound like a dam bursting. Oh, that was a bad idea. That was a really bad idea.

You quickly covered the wound with your hand knowing you needed to keep pressure on it to slow the bleeding, but warm red liquid was already oozing out from between your fingers, staining your shirt and dripping down your pants.

The crowd was silent as the thousands of fans watched on in pure shock. Mötley Crüe concerts were never quiet. Even between songs the crowd were up and around cheering and screaming, but not tonight. Nobody moved. Nobody dared to speak as they all stared at you in the middle of the stage.

Everything around you started to turn blurry as you took a staggering step back. Your legs buckling from underneath you but before you hit the ground, Nikki's strong hands were on you. Gently he eased your body down onto the floor moving slowly not wanting to hurt you further as he laid you down.

Suddenly his hands were removing yours from the wound so he could take in the damage but clearly didn't like what he saw as he cursed under his breath. His hands quickly pressed down against the stab wound on your stomach causing you to whimper at the pain it caused.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. I need to keep pressure on it. I'm sorry." Nikki apologised, his sea green eyes filled with so much panic as he looked over his shoulder. "We need a medic!"

"We need a medic on stage!" Vince's voice repeated through a microphone loudly.

Nikki frantically pulled out the bandana from his back pocket and bundled it up before pressing the material against the wound. But the once blue and white fabric soon turned a dark crimson.

"Shit. Shit. Where's the medic?!" Nikki shouted desperately.

Vince suddenly appeared over his shoulder unsure what was going on but when he saw all the blood his face paled. The singer frantically ripped off his scarf and knelt beside Nikki pressing it down against the blood-soaked bandana causing you to wince at the pain.

"Fuck. What happened? Did he stab her?" Vince questioned taking in all the blood.

"He wanted to stab me. But she stopped him." Nikki muttered angrily through gritted teeth. "Where's the fucking medic?"

You glanced to the side just in time to see John 5 dropping his guitar and running off stage to find a medic as Tommy sprinted over but froze when he realised what was happening.

"I'm sorry." You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Shh. It's okay, save your energy. You're gonna be fine, okay? You're gonna be fine." Nikki reassured, but you weren't sure if he was trying to reassure you or himself.

"Get that fucking camera out of here!" Tommy's voice boomed in the background somewhere, but everything was starting to spin as your eyes fluttered shut.

"Hey. No, no, no, wake up. Y/N, sweetheart, open your eyes." Nikkis voice begged before a hand suddenly cupped the side of your face and you forced your eyes open to find Nikki's panicked green one's looking straight at you. "Stay awake, you hear me? Stay awake."

"Sixx, it's not stopping." Vince warned grimacing at the now blood-soaked scarf he was still using as a makeshift bandage over the wound.

"Damnit." Nikki hissed, pushing his hand down harder in attempt to stem the blood flow causing you to groan in agony. "Sorry. Sorry. I know it hurts. I'm sorry."

"Just hold on a little longer, kid." Vince instructed while frantically looking around for the medic.

"There-there are worst ways to die." You winced, your tired eyes flicking between Nikki and Vince before Tommy dropped to his knees on your other side. His shaking hands hovered over your stomach not sure what to do to help as he stared at you helplessly terrified. "Dying with... with Mötley Crüe by my side ain't a bad way to-to go out."

"No." Nikki shook his head. "You're not dying. Not on my watch."

"It's okay." You whispered, his bloodied hand still cupping your face.

"It's not okay. Nothing about this is okay. Fuck! You shouldn't have pushed me out the way-"

"It doesn't hurt anymore. It's okay." Your voice was becoming weaker as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

"Shit." Vince swore knowing that was bad.

The guys all looked around at each other their fearful panicked expressions matching. They didn't know what else to do and you were fading fast.

"Over here!" John 5 shouted sprinting back onto the stage with two paramedics hot on his tail. "She was stabbed and- fuck, that's a lot of blood."

The last thing you saw was Tommy and Vince trying to pull Nikki away from you as paramedics rushed over before everything faded into darkness.

-

Next Chapter

MASTERLIST pinned to profile If anyone wants to be tagged just let me know

A/N: I am writing this purely for myself and if anyone else happens to read and like it, then that's a bonus. The first part of this fic was based on my own personal experience during their concert last year but obviously everything after going on stage is completely made up.

If I was the girl he asked to go on stage I would either just start crying or pass out... maybe both.

[icarustypicalfall]

cod men poll just choose one

6 is the correct answer you didn't hear it from me

edit: i love how we are all agreeing price is the man

masterpost <3