#so like clearly this is their Joint Mission

[pluckyredhead]

☕️batfam (not each character, but your opinion of them as a family both in canon vs. canon)

I think the version of them that you see in things like WFA and a lot of fandom stuff is delightful and entertaining. Don't get me wrong - a lot of the fandom stuff is also wildly wrong and infuriating. But there are writers who do a great job with a more fannish take on the Batfamily and I enjoy their work. (It is usually...painfully obvious who has actually read the comics and who only knows the Batfam via tumblr posts.)

The Batfamily in mainstream continuity is...not that. The characters are significantly more traumatized and rarely joke around with each other. They're also not a unit in the same way. They almost never do anything together out of costume. They don't have a joint baseline relationship of "family" - each pair of characters has a unique relationship. Like, Dick and Damian are close, Tim and Damian have a very rocky history, and Jason and Damian have honestly just not interacted that much? (Hilariously, Jason literally shot Damian early on and Damian doesn't appear to hold a grudge, while you know Tim is still mad about the dinosaur thing.) Damian has a specific relationship with Steph. Tim has a specific (and close!) relationship with Babs. (He used to just...hang out in the Watchtower! Being nerds together!) Duke and Cass are close, which of course is largely ignored by fandom. Etc.

I think the fact that the canon relationships are fraught and in some cases either really volatile or nonexistent is potentially really interesting. Like, I would love to see a story that puts Jason and Tim on a mission together and really digs into that dynamic, or Tim and Damian. (Or my dream story, one where Tim feels Some Kind Of Way about how he used to be Dick's favorite but now Damian very clearly is. (This is not how Dick sees it at all, for the record. Tim is his little brother! But Damian is his baby. It's different.))

Or look at the Robins' current relationships with Bruce: Dick is the closest with him but also accepts and absorbs much of Bruce's bad behavior without question. Bruce and Jason cannot be around each other for more than 30 minutes without dragging up every wound they've inflicted on each other over the years. Tim is desperate to fix Bruce to a degree that's actively unhealthy for Tim. Bruce functionally ignores Steph's entire existence and she seems to have wisely made her peace with that. And Damian is desperate for the unconditional love Bruce seems incapable of giving and mad at himself for it.

I don't actually want to change that. I find it fascinating. I'm not opposed to stories about the kids healing some of that damage, but I don't particularly want it to be via their relationships with Bruce. I'd like to see it happen via their relationships with each other. (That one story where Dick was like "Tim you will never fix Bruce, PLEASE stop trying" and Bruce was like "Lol he's right" was SO good. And then the writing on Tim went catastrophically off the rails but we're not talking about that right now.)

Anyway I think I've gotten a little far afield of your original question, but basically: I like (the good takes on) the fanon Batfam, but I also think the canon Batfam is really interesting. I don't think the two should be conflated (which is what DC does when they try to give us fluffy interactions that haven't been earned, Tom Taylor). And I don't think anyone is wrong for preferring either a more lighthearted take or a more fraught, canon-compliant take. The asshole behavior comes in when you refuse to accept other people's preferences.

(But also, if you are looking for an actually loving and healthy canon family that has playful interactions, you want the Flashes or the Arrows.)

[un-lawliet]

— just a small drabble about Gojo sheltering you from the rain :)

It was like you didn’t seem to care.

Walking slightly behind the first years, your arm outstretched, umbrella firm in your grasp as you shielded them from the timid monsoon invading your journey.

Your clothes were slowly soaking up the rain, but you neglected yourself the same protection as you provided to the students.

You clearly didn’t notice how your hands were beginning to tremble, how the cold permeated your being like soaked glove, too focused on praising Nobara for her “Excellent display of leadership” during their last joint mission.

“And don’t think I’m leaving you boys out of this!” You gleefully empathised, glancing up ever so slightly to ensure the umbrella was still covering the three of them, “You’re all really coming along with the whole ‘working as a team’ thing, well done!”

Gojo walked behind, watching you, always watching you, an almost unnoticeable downwards tilt on his lips as your clothes saturated in the downfall.

You were always so caring.

“Yea!” Itadori beamed, his arms flinging over both Nobara and Megumi, pulling them closer. “We do make a great team ay?”

“Under my leadership, of course we do.” Nobara was grinning, her hand subconsciously stroking the brown sac in which her hammer lay, a cheeky look in her eye as she raised her head to look at Yuji.

“I had to point out the curse to stop both of you being surprise attacked you know?” Megumi muttered, glancing at the arm around his shoulder.

“Only because Itadori got stuck under that shitty pile of rocks and wouldn’t stop whining! I was distracted.”

“Hey! That wasn’t my fault- you pushed me?!?!”

“You got in the way of my attack it’s not the same thing!”

“Really? …I could have sworn you were aiming for his head.”

“Who’s side are you on here Megumi?!?!”

You turned back to Gojo, your eyes brimming with childish joy, you were reminiscing quietly of your own youth, holding back a chuckle, and Gojo couldn’t help but stare, his blindfold hiding the softest expression, his face appearing impassive to any passer-by’s.

And you’re turning back around, a light bounce in your step ready to remind the trio that they all preformed excellently, and Gojo hesitated, eyes still focused on the way rain was pelting down on your figure.

In every sense of the word; Satoru Gojo is untouchable.

He’s the strongest, basking in the glory of loneliness that such strength invites. Nobody can reach him, nobody will ever come close.

His name, status and abilities are simply, unreachable.

Not even the soft pitter patter of the rain can bridge the lack of contact.

Each droplet slowing and slowing until it gives up, deciding it's not worth a touch, that he's not worthy of touch.

Satoru Gojo was a man who braved the world alone, and this was a destiny he had known far too long to resent it, or to crave a world otherwise.

Until he met you, and your pretty smile, and your gentle way of care.

Pestering him when he doesn’t report back after his missions, your voice laced with concern that he did not need.

Of course he came back ok, he was the strongest.

And yet you still worried, shaking your head at his carelessness.

“Strongest or not, I’d prefer to know that you’re alive.”

And so Gojo hesitated.

His brain screaming at him to stay put, to not let you in, to stay as far away from you as he could possibly could.

It’s better when he’s alone, he’s stronger when he’s alone.

But his body seemed to crave you as much as his heart yearned for you, and seemingly against his will, his feet sped up, taking two strides until he was beside you, an easy smile on his face, concealing the tremor he felt in his heart.

You look at him, your face glowing with an unperturbed joy, welcoming him into the conversation with an ease that comes naturally when you’re with him.

“My amazing teaching’s paying off, eh?” His voice came out gentle, and you were sure he winked under his mask.

“Must be.” You giggle, and then you’re pausing, your eyebrows raised in confusion.

It was no longer raining.

Or more-so, it was no longer raining on you.

Turning your head you catch the slight smirk of the man beside you, who didn’t attempt to share your gaze, instead opting to tease Megumi for pouting, his voice light, a small spring in his step.

And you’re ogling at how the rain falls towards you but stops just short, slowing to a halt.

You were in his infinity, he had shared his space with you.

You wanted to cry.

Quietly you whisper a small “Thank you,” to Gojo, who’s smile only widened.

He didn’t reply, but the gentle feeling of his pinkie brushing yours made you swoon, persisting onwards, with your umbrella in-front of you, your hand entangled with the strongest.

masterlist

feel free to leave a request !!

[empresskylo]

'*•.¸♡ — simon 'ghost' riley' x fem!reader

you wanna kiss me so bad — part 2 (wc 1.4k)

part 1 [this can still be read w/o reading pt 1]

You had taken Ghost’s jests in stride. He clearly wanted to one-up you; wanting to show you and Soap he could be just as comical. 

At least he wasn’t angry when you teased him. But still, you hadn’t expected him to respond the way he had. 

You were used to playful teasing, like you would with a sibling. And normally, you could handle crude remarks, always making those with Soap. But when it came to Ghost, something about the way he said them bothered you more than it should have.

You had refrained from talking to Ghost, saving anything you had to say for a later date. Ghost found your response… odd. You went from slowly opening up, joking with the team lightheartedly, to closed off and seemingly lacking any ounce of humor. 

You pulled your jacket tighter as you made it outside, spotting Soap and Ghost up ahead, loading the truck for the upcoming mission.

Ghost stopped what he was doing and stared at you. You froze, your brows furrowing at his sudden shift. Even Soap paused what he was doing to look up at Lt.

“Yes?” You asked him, a bit confused.

“You’re wearing that?” Ghost asked you exasperated, his eyes looking you up and down. 

You felt your face heat. You were literally wearing the same outfit as half the men on the team. It was a uniform after all. He sounded like Soap with his stupid joke. “I guess I am,” you mumbled. You leaned over and picked up a crate to shove on the truck.

Soap smirked, clearly entertained by the awkwardness between you and Ghost.

You loaded the gear quietly for several moments before Ghost met your rhythm, walking beside you as you both carried duffel bags. 

“Calling me stupid one minute, t’not having my jokes at all,” he mumbled. “Can’t seem to figure you out.”

He thought you might not answer him again. You huffed as you tossed the bag onto the truck then turned to face him. “You ever considered the fact that maybe you’re just not that good at puzzles?”

You couldn’t see, but Ghost smiled under his mask. Soap snickered in the background. Ghost turned and leaned against the truck, all the gear loaded up, and crossed his arms. 

“Guess I just prefer a more hands-on approach.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. You averted his eyes, trying to act like his words weren’t flustering you. Teasing was so much more fun when it was just ludicrous jabs. Whatever this was that Ghost kept pulling, was leaving you speechless, and you hated it. You wonder if you’d respond the same if it was anyone else saying these things to you.

Soap bumped his shoulder against Ghost, finally forcing his eyes away from you. “If y’need the practice L.t., I wouldn’t mind—”

“If you finish that sentence, Johnny, I swear to god.”

Soap laughed and climbed into the back of the humvee. 

You refrained from glaring at Ghost the entire ride, though it took a lot of willpower. You swear you could feel the heat of his gaze along your neck. You were determined to fluster him like he had been doing to you.

And of course, when the team split up, you were somehow stuck with Ghost. It’s like the gods enjoyed torturing you. 

You clutched the sniper closer to your chest, the winter wind sending a chill down your spine. You followed Ghost in silence to the lookout point, your boots crunching the half-melted snow. 

Once on target, you laid prone on your stomach, aiming your rifle into the distance. You checked down the barrel, looking out for any of the men on your team, trying to spot them. Ghost still hadn’t gotten down beside you yet.

“Squattin’ too hard on the joints, Lt.?” You teased, keeping your one eye squared through your scope. 

“If you’re as good a shot as you are at runnin’ your mouth, this is a shoe in,” he muttered, a bit annoyed. You grinned, knowing he couldn’t see, with a bit of satisfaction at getting under his skin. 

Ten minutes had passed and still nothing had happened. You got up onto your knees and looked over at Ghost. He was sitting in the same position, tapping on his tablet to locate the men. You noticed his fingers turning red from the cold, his gloves tucked up under his arm so he could use the screen. 

“Pretty cold out here, Lt.,” you began casually. 

His eyes flickered to you briefly before going right back to what he was doing.

“Should hold my hand. You know… so it doesn’t freeze.”

You heard Ghost laugh through his nose, his eyes still focused downward. 

You turned back to your sniper and saw Ghost shift out of the corner of your eye. You glanced over and you bit your lip to keep from gaping. Ghost had continued what he was doing, but his free hand was nonchalantly outstretched, palm open and turned up for you to take as he concentrated on the GPS tracker.

When you didn’t take his hand he looked up. “What? That all talk, then?” He mocked. 

This whole teasing thing didn’t really work when the participating party wanted all the stupid things you offered.

You decided to play things his way then. You reached out and slid your hand into his. He glared at you, almost like he was overly confident you weren’t going to call his bluff. 

You wanted to show him you were just as committed to the bit as he was. 

“Didn’t take you for the affectionate type, Lieutenant.” You laced your fingers together and gave him a saccharine smile. 

He shook his head, shoving his tool back into his bag before tugging you towards him, his grip firm around your hand. “Affection is a weakness,” he explained. 

“Oh! So is that why you haven’t kissed me yet? Afraid to be weak?”

He knew exactly what you were doing. You were intimidated when he fired remarks back at you, ones that stumped you and left you flustered. You were trying to outdo him; to make him flustered. And Ghost was more than pleased.

He tugged you so close you had to use your hand not tangled in his to catch his chest, stopping you from flying into him. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

“So, what if I would?” You threw his words from the other day back at him.

“This is a game you can’t win, sergeant,” he growled out, his eyes locked on yours, unwavering as he stared you down. 

“No? N’ why’s that?” You asked cooly, trying to mask the fact that your heart was racing. “You think I’m lying?” You were… weren’t you?

Ghost’s eyes narrowed, his mind reeling behind his glare. You swallowed and he traced the way your throat bobbed. Before you had the chance to say more, Ghost used his free hand to push his mask up to his nose, baring his chin and lips to you. He grabbed the front of your tactical vest, his fingers looping into the fabric, and pulled you level with him, your eyes turning to moons. 

“What are ya gonna have t’say once I prove ya wrong?” He asked.

You bit your lip, steadying your rapid breaths. “You won’t.” 

Ghost grinned and you were so shocked by seeing his mouth for the first time, watching his lips tip up into a smile, that you didn’t realize he had closed the distance between the two of you until it was too late. 

The kiss wasn’t long, just enough to be more than a peck. You were surprised at how soft his lips were, and how his faint stubble tickled. 

He broke apart, pushing you backwards and dropping both his hands. 

Maybe he had taken things too far. He averted his gaze while you stared up at him dumbly. Ghost smirked, a bit too proud of himself for stumping you. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t actually wanted to kiss you. No, he was itching to kiss you far more than what just unfolded.

“At least that got you to finally shut your mouth.” You could hear the playful lilt in his voice and it made your chest beat rapidly. You never expected to share a kiss with your lieutenant. And you never thought you’d catch feelings for him. But here you were.

What had you gotten yourself into?

[withered-tears]

June walked into the main room to find Ratchet staring at various humam anatomy diagrams displayed through the monitors.

Bones, muscles, nerves, etc.

All of them focused sorely on the arms, wrists, and hands.

"Doing some human research, Ratchet?"

The autobot hums in affirmation.

"I believe Rafael's arms to be damaged. I'm researching possible treatment."

"What!? Raf is hurt?! What happened? Where is he?"

"Relax, he's not injured, just damaged. I suspect it is either an old injury acting up or poorly maintenance."

"He shouldn't have any old injury like that, I believe. Is he in pain?"

"No to my knowledge. But I've seen him manually recalibrate his servos way too often for it to be healthy."

June blinks, confused.

"Recalibrate his servos?"

Ratchet scoffs. "You know, when he," Ratchet holds his hands in front of his body, and after a slight pause, he flaps them in a quick (and loud) motion "does this. If Rafael was a bot, the only reason to do that would be to loosen up rusted joints and recalibrate his motors. It's not a particularly bad habit, but Rafael does it multiple times a day. His joints, human or not, should NOT de-align so fast. Something is clearly wrong, so -"

"Ratchet." June interrupted, sounding relieved.

"Raf's arms aren't damaged. He's just stimming."

Ratchet resets his optics, baffled. "What's stimming?"

Later that night, Ratchet finds himself working side to side with Optimus on the main console.

"I learned something new about humans today."

"Oh?" Optimus intoned, optics still focusing on his work, but voicing his curiosity.

"You know that thing Bee does, where his doorwings will flap in place when he comes back from a mission to find Rafael in the base? Or how Smokescreen's wheels start spinning when Ultra Magnus makes him stay in place too long for a lecture?"

The way your headlights would start blinking in sync with your voice, as you excitedly explained to me a new document you found in the archives, before you trained yourself out of it, because it was unsightful of a Prime.

"Turns out humans have a word for it. They call it stimming."

Optimus eyes brighten with interest. And as he starts babling theories about possible evolutionary needs for this stimming (a release of excess energy caused by low activity? or perhaps a smaller body than usual, or maybe it had nothing to do with energy and was instead a way to signal other nearby humans about their emotional state?) Ratchet couldn't help but steal a glance towards the Prime's headlights.

He couldn't help but feel disappointed to see them completely dark all through his tirade.

---

@quetzalpapalotl dunno if you recall but i made a lil post talking about this, that you liked, and i turned it into this lil thing!

(Btw, i hope its okay to keep @ u when i write this lil things that i think youd like? I dont wanna come off as spammy kydkgdkgd)

[lmskitty]

The JJk fandom has some INCREDIBLE writers and artists and I just felt like showing a bit of love so here are some of my fave Satosugu fics!!!

Audience by @c-valentino

"Three years after the KFC breakup, Satoru caves and visits his old friend late at night with a problem. They are far from what they used to be, but when he hopes they might get a second chance after all, assassins show up to hunt down Suguru."

As you like it by planetarypedxng

"Ieiri Shoko has laid down the law: the three of them will hereafter hang out only at Geto’s place, because Geto is the perfect host, and because Shoko refuses to clean up after anyone, least of all men, and because Gojo’s room always disgustingly reeks of sex.

Gojo had laughed at that, a little too loudly, perhaps, and curiously did not have a single comment about it. What can he say? The truth? That he was still a virgin?"

Falling in love is easy. Admitting it is not. By @ellionwrites

"At 20 years old - sharing an apartment and joint Jujutsu missions - Geto and Gojo are inseparable. But it takes Geto going on a first date for them to start to figure out their feelings."

Two sorcerers chillin' in a hot tub (five feet apart cause they’re not gay) by @hollow-lime-green

"Geto Suguru has almost two decades of practice pretending not to see things that are clearly there, and Gojo Satoru has a well-documented history of being the most socially-stunted motherfucker alive.

That’s how they got here.

Love is in the hands by @thequeenofsarcaasm

That’s also why neither of them know where the hell they’re going with this."

To be a woman by @sadgreekboys

"After getting kicked from his home for being queer, Geto Suguru comes across his old best friend/first love, in a gay bar. He finds a new home in him."

close your eyes (nothing changed at all) by themoonisdead

"Satoru is the strongest. She is a woman. She is not meant to be those two things at the same time.

VIRGIN GETS WRECKED BY BEST FRIEND [FREE PORN VIDS] (18++) WATCH NOW!!!!! By Daisy__dupes

"That day in xx village, suguru makes a call" -what if Suguru had called Satoru for help that day?

Over the Threshold by @fushiglow

(Satoru gets hit with a sex curse and asks Suguru to help him!!!)

4AM by damiselart

"Larger than life K-pop idol, Satoru, approaches introverted record producer, Getō Suguru, to collaborate on his debut Japanese-language studio album. They both get more out of the experience than expected — for better and for worse."

(Tattoo artist Geto and model Gojo. Hot as fuck.)

Post-It Notes by monochromevelyn

"Shoko was sick of watching her two best friends pining for each other. Don't worry, she had a plan to move things in the right direction."

The Two-Headed Calf by malneiro

"Gojo gets a knock on his door late at night: Getou is sick and Mimiko and Nanako don't know who else to turn to."

Vows to Amida Butsu -

" Gojo has a great idea. Geto thinks his classmate should at least ask him cutely instead of just announcing his intent. Consent is important, after all."

and Long Bitter Autumn - both by Daphnerunning and Galiko

"Five years after his best friend left Jujutsu High to become an evil overlord, Gojo Satoru can't sleep. And there's not THAT much difference between a butt dial and a booty call, semantically speaking."

There are so many amazing satosugu fics and most of the writers listed here have multiple incredible fics but these are just some of my absolute faves!!!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[nocturnesmoon]

Safety Nets

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x GN!Reader Wordcount: 6k Tags: Polyamory, established relationship, Hurt/comfort, a LOT of comfort, the guys take care of you, that's the fic CW/TW: Military inaccuracies? canon typical violence, insecurities, heavy self doubt and self blame, minor character death, A/N: This is probably inaccurate mission and military wise but idc i wanted to write something like this for so long- though i am open to constructive criticism if you got some notes. (Read on Ao3)

-You come back from a mission that shook you to your core, the boys help you back on your feet as they always do-

The wind raged like a storm in your ears, despite the heavy earmuffs which sat too tight on your head, you could hear it clearly. When you closed your eyes, you could imagine it being a hurricane, a wind so strong it would scoop you up and carry you to who knows where. One that would tear you apart and leave no remnants of who you were.

The thought seemed nice, to be taken away and to never return. To be freed from not having to face your own failures in the disappointed stares, that awaited down on the rapidly approaching platform. Your body rocked with every little swerve of the helicopter, no longer having the strength to go against the motion.

"Lieutenant?" Your head snapped up to the soldier in front of you. You ignored the crack in your neck and the ache that pooled into your muscles. He'd been calling on you a few times now, his concerned eyes searching your face for an answer. "We're about to land sir," the soldier let you know, you couldn't muster up a verbal response, only a nod to acknowledge you'd heard.

Ever since they had picked you up on the site, they had that look of pity. It made you squirm, feeling all too self-aware of the way your clothes were caked in mud and blood. Your bones hurt, and your joints felt like snapping in half. You had spent the majority of the mission running, believing that you wouldn't make it out. You had fled, and you had left them behind.

The size of the heli was too big for just you, the soldier, and the pilot in the front. The space felt like caging you in, reminding you of your failure, of who you had lost. Your eyes threatened to shut, the exhaustion whispering in your ear that it would all feel a little better if you let yourself drift away into sleep.

Except every time your eyes slipped closed it wasn't darkness you saw, it was their screams, their blood, and their gore. The cracks you heard when one of the bullets pierced someone's skull echoed in your ears, as if you were still down there on the battlefield.

You were pulled back into your own head, your mind running laps to go through the mission once more. Every single second accounted for so you could dissect your failure. How each one of them had fallen, one by one they dropped like they were nothing. How you had ran with what was left of your team, until one got caught in a bear trap and pulled under falling debris, and the other was shot in the stomach.

You had hoped your head would fill with fog, that it would help you forget and suppress the last few moments of that soldier’s life. His name had been Jacob, his callsign Wisp, he had been difficult to deal with but his progress under your guidance had been noticeable. You hated how it was only now you could remember every little thing about him. Before you didn't care, you did your job in training him, guiding him, but you never made an effort to know him. You wished your brain would stop remembering every little thing now, making you feel all the more guilty.

You wished your brain would do that thing it's supposed to do, block out the traumatic memories so you didn't have to deal with them. Yet they were there still so fresh in your mind, like an open wound, his last words repeated over and over in your mind. You'd think someone's last words would be scared, or sentimental or a sweet last wish. Not his, no he decided his last wish was to let you know just how much you had failed them all.

Over and over again you replayed that memory, how his blood had mixed with the dirt and gravel under you both. You remember how his hand had clutched onto your arm, digging his nails through your sleeve and into your skin. He had pulled you down with him in his final moments, uttered those words into your ear with so much disdain the tone would have rocked your core on its own.

"This is your fault, you led us here."

There was more to his words, you were sure there was but maybe your brain was doing part of its job now. You could only cling to every part of the memory you could before it slipped away into the fog. It was only when someone gently nudged you that you snapped out of your own mind once more. "Sir?" your body went rigid at the touch and the voice, and you fought the distinct urge to disarm the person that was in front of you.

It was the same soldier that had been with you ever since they found you. He had been careful around you ever since he saw the casualties, walking on eggshells around you as if you were a loose cannon, maybe you were. "Sir?" he repeated, being a little more patient now that he had your attention, "We're here."

You felt your stomach drop, nodding slowly and glancing towards the opening doors, the platform outside. You could already glimpse at the two people that were waiting for you, they had probably been on edge for days. It only made you more guilty how you must have worried them, ever since your call for immediate evac. You weren't even sure you could reassure them once you got down there, you weren't sure you wouldn't just collapse to your knees the moment you were within their vicinity.

"Do you need help Lieutenant?" the soldier in front of you hadn't moved, it surprised you slightly, having been sure he would be just as eager to get off and way from your stench of death. For a moment you want to say yes, tell them to get someone to carry you, because your knees would give out the moment you went to stand, but how would that look for you. A new promising Lieutenant, the first op you led after you got your new rank and it turned out like this.

You didn't dare look up at the soldier, too afraid that your own eyes would give you away. You considered for a moment, to tell the soldier to go get the only two people who would know what to do. The only two people you would trust enough to become vulnerable with. "No..." your voice barely comes through, but he seems to register it, his legs moving quickly to get down on the platform. It was time to face them.

It had been a long few days ever since you said goodbye to the two of them. 72 hours since you had left on the plane with the promise of being back sometime the next day. 24 since Johnny had started complaining about your absence. 6 since Simon had been alerted of the fact you had called for immediate evac, that the supposedly simple mission had gone wrong in every way possible.

He hadn't relayed all the grueling details to Johnny, just that the op had gone wrong and that you might come back a little rattled. Simon wasn't entirely sure what had gone wrong either, he just knew there was casualties, and the team wasn't coming back in one piece. The scot next to him was restless, practically jumping in place from anxiety, watching intently as the heli descended and the doors opened.

Simon kept one step in front of him, knowing the man all too well, and even though his eagerness is shared within Simon's own veins, he knows that you might not be in a state that could positively receive that. He knew the both of you inside and out, the years he had spent with both you and  Johnny allowed him to know you in ways he didn't think possible.

He was quick to find out exactly what made you both tick, what set you off, what made you happy and what would comfort you. He didn't like the uncertainty; it was a rocky start when he was still mapping out your emotions. By now you all knew each other well, like three puzzle pieces that fit together, you had found each other and filled out the holes in each other’s lives. Certainty was assured when he was with either of you because you both knew he needed it.

This was new, this was an uncertainty he didn't like. He had no idea what you would be like when you came down to the platform, down into their arms once again. Not to mention the fact you and nobody else had come out yet only churned that unsettling anxiety in his stomach further.

"L.T?" the sound of Johnny's accent filled his ears, his shoulders managing to relax just a little. He wasn't alone in this, he reminded himself, Johnny would be here to figure out how to help you as well. Johnny's pinky curled around Simon's, his urge to pull them both away from the public area would have overpowered if it wasn't for the fact, they were waiting for you.

The pilot had gotten out almost as soon as they landed, but you were still nowhere. He could just peak inside, trying to look for you or anyone else he would recognize. He only caught a glimpse of your form, hidden behind another soldier who was speaking to you. "What's taking 'em so long," Simon mumbled quietly, his mask obscuring his already quiet speech.

Johnny let out a heavy sigh, the hold his pinky finger had was surprisingly strong. They shared the anxiousness, the uncomfortable knowledge that you weren't okay. "Ah dinnae ken" he answered, trying to angle himself so he could get a better look at you. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot he could see at the distance.

They waited, as patiently as they could, the inconspicuous grip they had on each other also served to hold themselves back. Their resolve was wearing thin, and they both knew it, that soldier was talking to you about something, something they didn't know about, and they didn't like it. Simon almost completely lost it when he saw the soldier emerge without you, but his attention was quickly turned when you appeared not long after.

Your walk was slow, in no hurry to get back to them, it should've been the first sign. You looked around as if you were confused, as if you hadn't walked down this path a hundred times before. Johnny wasted no time bolting forward, closing in on you with the clear goal that you were his target. It startled you and Simon almost wanted to berate Johnny in that moment for being so quick with his movements.

Though what Simon saw almost made him want to have a little more time to prepare. The look in your eye rattled something foreign in his bones. It was something familiar, something he had seen in himself once upon a time. Something terrifying he'd never have wished upon you, how it felt when his bare soul had been chipped away at. He looked behind you, expecting some other members of your team to perhaps clue them in on the horror that had occurred.

The hit felt even harder when he realized, you were the only one.

By the time they had gotten you inside and settled in the tub you were a little more present. Your awareness a little higher from when they were on the platform. You had barely spoken a word to them, so vary of threats on every corner that you didn't even let your guard down for them as you usually did.

Only when they had managed to drag you inside, convinced you that your report could wait for later, and gotten you safely inside the space of your own quarters, did you settle. Johnny had carefully helped you out of your clothes, taking the task of cleaning you up and settling you into the safe atmosphere that was them.

He had whispered soft praise in your ears as he removed layer after layer, meanwhile suppressing the want to berate you for each little wound he found on your body. He knew you didn't need the extra scolding, the pure shock from the mission would be enough for you. However, he still felt that sting of hurt in his heart, knowing that neither he nor Simon was there to look after you, to take care of you.

He was well aware that you were capable on your own, you wouldn't have made it this far if you weren't good at what you did. If your rank wasn't enough to go from, then your other various accomplishments on your resume was. But when he saw you like this, with the silent knowledge that you could've been wiped out along with the rest, it put a dark cloud over his mind.

He helped you slowly lower yourself into the bath Simon had previously prepared. You winced in pain when the warm water touched your wounds. None of them were severe enough to cause major worry, but that didn't mean they didn't hurt just as much. Your movements were sloggy, relying on Johnny to not lose yourself completely.

"There ye are," Johnny mumbled quietly, forcing a soft smile on his lips in hopes you soothing you. You let out a shuddering sigh, doing your best to relax into the warm water. You pulled your legs close to your chest, resting your tin atop your bruised knees. "Oh leannan," he gently presses his lips to your temple, cradling your head in an attempt for comfort.

It feels like you're not fully present, watching the world from a third person view that doesn’t exist. You have half of your comfort with you, his hands grabbing the washcloth and slowly moving it over your skin. You look around the small bathroom, trying to locate the other half of your comfort, the missing equation.

"Si..." You're taken aback on your own voice, the croak and soreness of it all leaving you wondering whether you had yelled or screamed more than you thought. You tried to think back on it, settling your mind into the mission again but it made a headache form.

Johnny's motion came to a slow stop, his eyes catching your pleading ones. He knew what you wanted, but he wasn't the one that could give it to you. "He's comin' soon," he does his best at keeping your calm, "S'ok jus' relax." His free hand finds your cheek, making you focus your vision on him.

You lean into it, your body trembling slightly beneath his touch. It was warm and safe, two things you hadn't felt ever since you left. He moved the washcloth over your face, rubbing at the dirt that had infested itself on your skin. His eyes never left your face, his attention and devotion completely yours. His eyes fell on your trembling lips, before quickly flickering upwards to see the tears prickling at the corner of your eyes.

"S'ok love, yer okay" He lets the washcloth rest on the edge of the tub so he could take your face in both hands. His forehead leans against yours, bringing you close and gently coaxing you into more contact. "Just breathe with me aye, he'll be back in no time" your eyes fluttered closed, listening to his instructions, glad that you were able to let go of the part of your brain that needed to make decisions.

Fortunately, he was right, as he often is.

Heavy footsteps could be heard and then the creak of the door, it made you snap your eyes open, their searching beginning once more. They landed on the tall brute, Simon's eyes fixated on you since the moment he made his way into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and made his way towards the tub, planting himself on the toilet seat right next to it.

He was still wearing his mask, tired eyes searching your body and gliding over the wounds in your traumatized state. He lets out a deep sigh, reaching his hand up to his mask and slowly sliding it off. You had seen his face so many times, by now it shouldn't affect you anymore, yet still you can't help that feeling you get when you see him shed the mask in front of you and Johnny. The trust he has in the two of you makes your heart flutter.

The look he's giving you almost makes you feel ashamed, even though you know that he's just concerned. He's always been, that's why he's so harsh on you, on Johnny, even on occasion Garrick. You're pretty sure the only reason he isn't like that on Price as well is because of his higher rank and better experience. He's trained you hard so you could overcome anything, but no amount of training could prepare you for this kind of thing.

Johnny leans back, allowing Simon more space to move closer. You move before he does, leaning your body slightly to the side. The sound of splashing water went deaf on your ears, even as Johnny yelped from some of the water going overboard. Your chin ended up nestled atop Simon's thigh, his eyes never leaving you as you moved. His hand coming down to rest on the back of your head.

"How we doin' pet?" his voice of gravel is like a blanket for your soul, the years of smoking giving him a voice that makes you shiver. In truth you don't feel like speaking, you don't feel like answering at all. You know you have to; you can't hide forever but you still hope they won't inquire about the mission just yet.

You let out a huff, almost hoping that the answer would suffice for Simon, but he keeps looking at you with those expectant eyes. "I don't know," you whisper quietly, letting your eyes fall, your body going slack against the side of the tub.

Simon nods in response, a hum of understanding going out to you. "S'fine, you don't have to know right now," he tells you, giving you the peace of mind to just have a non-conditional existence between them.

Johnny picks up the washcloth again, guiding your arms in his direction so he could continue his work of getting you clean. They're both quick and efficient with cleaning you up, Simon's rough voice filling the room as he updates you on things that's happened since you were gone. It's not much, mostly trivial things you don't care about and will likely forget, but it keeps your calm, giving you something else to focus on.

"Ye should've seen Cap he was livid," Johnny's laughs and you muster a smile, hearing about his latest misadventures, and the dumb thing's he'd rode Gaz into. His hands run over your scalp, working in the shampoo and grimacing when he takes out a small clump of dirt. "Aye darling, how the hell did ye get so caked in mud anyway," he sighs, parting your strands to get to the nape of your neck.

You bend your head down to allow him to work through your hair without straining his arms. "I..." you do your best to think back, but the number of times you fell down and scraped against things were a blur. "I think i tripped a lot...it was a muddy area," You held back a pleasured groan, as Johnny worked his fingers over your scalp, small goosebumps going down your back and arms.

"I don't really remember," you admit and let out an exasperated sigh. Johnny finishes up your hair, going for a little longer than necessary in hopes of keeping your enjoyment going awhile longer. When he pulls back to reach for the shower head, he boops your nose, leaving some soap on your face. His mischievous grin is infectious, and it manages to tug the corners of your lips upwards. The way his eyes light up when he sees your half smile makes your heart hurt, you've worried them so much, you're still worrying them.

As soon as they got you out of the water you were clinging to them like a leech. Refusing to let go of the precious contact you've already established with them. They move you around between them, molding you to them as they do the teamwork of getting you dry. Simon peppers soft kisses to your lips and cheeks while Johnny moves the towel over your back.

Even after they're done getting you as dry as they can, they keep you there. Sandwiched between them they hold you tight, and in tune each other. Johnny's head nestled in the crook of your neck and Simon's chin resting on top of your head. It's a stance that squeezes you tight, your own head getting light from the amount of love they try to squeeze into your bones.

It makes your heart burn, and your eyes sting with tears. Your breathing coming out in small gasps, as you end up choking back on a sob. Every single little thing coming crashing down on you now that you know you're safe in their arms. They've always got you, ready to catch you in case you fall. That hasn't changed, and being so subtly reminded by them brings it all out.

"Breathe," you aren't sure who says it, the disorienting feeling not alleviating even as they accommodate you. "Good Good," you recognize Simon's praising voice when you manage to take a few deep breaths. The tears never manage to fall but you don't doubt that they both know just by looking at your pathetic state.

"Love, we need to treat your wounds," he starts off quietly, not having any haste to move you, "Johnny'll go get you some food, and then we can get you settled into bed, okay?" He's making it sound more like a question, but you know it's just to make you aware of their next movements.

Even so you can't help but cling to Johnny's presence as he starts to unattach himself from the cuddle. You look up at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would stay if you just used puppy eyes enough. You almost think he'll budge as he moves closer to you again, his lips descending onto yours for a chaste kiss. Reluctantly he pulls away again, "Be back soon, ah promise ye."

Before you can protest and force him to stay, Simon scoops you up and places you on the bathroom counter. Distracting you from Johnny's quest of finding food that will be easily digested. He holds your face in his hand to keep your eyes on him, while the other one rummage through a cabinet.

You had gotten extremely lucky all things considered, the worst of your injuries the long scrapes on your back from sliding down a hill with sharp rocks. The rest included rough bruises, sore joints, and jumbled mind. Your other teammates had been much less fortunate, led right into their death by your own incompetence.

You're softly called back to reality, Simon gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek and calling your name. You don't know how long you were zoned out, but it was long enough to give him that worried glint in his eye. "Sorry..." you croak, swallowing thickly to hold it all back but this time it's not as easy.

The tears come slow and quiet, the shake in your body forcing them out of your waterline and down your cheekbones. He gently wipes them away, pulling you in closer to his body again and cradling you against his chest. "You survived," he reminds you, "You're still here."

You want to nod along with him and take in his words to keep close. But you don't know if you agree with him, you survived but should you have? Why did you survive and not Jacob, not any of the other soldiers who trusted you to see it through.

Simon placed a soft kiss to the top of your head and then leaned over you to get a look at your back. He gave no reaction to whatever he saw as to not make you panic, though from the bleeding warmth in your back told you it probably wasn't looking the best.

"Lean back for me pet," he instructs you, slowly plucking you from his chest. With a reluctant sigh you lean back and look down at yourself. Your eyes trailing over every little bruise that littered your body. Simon was silent as he took care of you, giving you gentle squeezes over small kisses after every little wince you made.

When he was done treating the visible wounds, you could hear Johnny rustling around outside the bathroom. The only thing left was your back, the one you dreaded the most out of all your wounds. Simon leaned back just as Johnny came back into the room, a set of your clothes hanging over his arm. He places it on the counter and picks through it, handing you a fresh set of underwear, sweats, and t-shirt.

"Wait with the shirt, need to check over your back," Simon reaches over for the underwear and sweats, helping you into it and lowering you back to the floor. You stretch out your limbs, groaning as you feel the exhaustion in your body, your joints popping when you stretch your arms above your head.

Johnny takes your hand in his own, smiling at you and leading you into the bedroom. "Ah found ye some soup, there wasn't a lot to choose from at this hour," he told you as you crawl onto the bed. You glance at the nightstand, the soup bowl steaming and looking good enough to make your mouth water. The little chocolate bar next to it makes you smile, just until Simon guides you to lay on your stomach.

The real pain is about to start, you think. His hands smoothe over your back, avoiding the ridges of your wounds and grabbing the salve. "It'll be quick, am sure" Johnny lowers himself onto the bed next to you, mimicking your way of laying. His head right next to yours, his loving eyes staring into your own and the giddy smile he wore made you huff out the air in your lungs.

"Hi"

"Hi"

His hand reaches out and caresses your cheek, gently running his fingers over your scalp. He does his best at distracting you from the pain in your back. "How ye feelin'?" he asks quietly, his thumb running over your cheek and fixating on your lip.

"Like shit," you scoff and turn your face into the mattress. You feel Simon's hand run over your back, the aching pain making you whine into the sheets. His hands hesitate, smoothing over unscarred skin as an apology before going back to his work.

The work on your wounds is tedious, and when he finally pulls away your eyelashes are wet. The clutch you have on the sheets beneath you is starting to hurt your knuckles. Simon's touch leaves you, but you don't take any action to turn or move. Someone else guides you to move, the difference in touch leading you to believe it's Johnny.

He moves you closer to him, slowly turning you up so you're sitting and leaning against him. He gently helps you into a t-shirt before moving you around like a ragdoll once more. You're settled between his legs, your back to his front and his big forearms wrapped around your waist. He buries his head in your neck, squeezing you and inhaling your scent as if it's the only thing he ever needs.

"C'mon, you need'ta eat," the bed dips as Simon gets back on it, this time having the bowl of soup in hand. He settles in front of you both, reaching forward and gently rubbing your calf. "And we need to talk," he knows you don't want to, that you'd rather bury it deep. Unfortunately for you, he also knows where that will lead you, and the sooner you put it into words for them the easier you'll be able to process it.

You take the bowl from him, agreeing to at least eat something. You couldn't remember when you last had gotten something nutritional, your stomach felt like a gaping hole that was trying to eat itself. You brought the spoon to your lips and savored the taste. Despite the limited options Johnny had still managed to get the things you liked.

"Don't wanna talk," you mumble between your bites, trying to ignore the look Simon is giving you by staring into your swirling soup. "There's nothin' to talk about," You swallow thickly, ever since you had been back you had been fighting the thoughts that urged to trap you. They were just waiting for you to trip in your careful state, they would pull you under the bridge, drown you into the water until you couldn't breathe through your panic.

Simon didn't let go of your leg, rubbing slow soothing circles into your calf. His full attention was on you, and there was nowhere to hide from the man in front of you and the man behind you. Johnny placed a soft kiss to your neck, and mumbled into your skin, "We know ye don' wanna, Leannan, but when ye came back ye were like a Ghost."

When you didn't answer they elected to let you eat in silence for a while longer, unaware to the emotional storm inside your body. You knew that you would have to make that report eventually, that they would hear about the details eventually. But actually, being met with the demand was something else entirely.

You didn't know if you could bear their reactions, the thought of them being disappointed in you made the anxiety roar. You didn't want them to realize that all the time they had spent being proud of you for your achievement had been wasted. That you were nothing of what you promised to be.

You only realized how shaky your hands had become again when you raised the spoon to take another bite. Simon let out a soft sigh, before taking the spoon and bowl from you so you didn't spill on yourself or Johnny. "Darling?" the question was laid bare for you, he gave you the opening to start talking, to confide in them like you always did.

Your hands fall to your lap, right along with your sight. You try to calm your own nerves, trying to rationalize the stirring thoughts in your head. After an elaborate breath, that is more like an exhausted sigh, you find your words. "It was supposed to be a simple op, and it was in the start, find the target and neutralize him," you start quietly, grasping your own hands together.

"But once we were there and set up, nothing went as planned," you lightly shake your head along to your words, "They knew we were coming and hunted us like dogs." You swallow thickly, noting how the shakiness had nestled into your voice. "I tried to reroute our objective; we tried getting out of there, but this was unlike anything I had ever been up against."

Johnny's hand came to encapsulate your own, stilling your shakiness and you freeze up. Feeling all to self-aware all of a sudden, how the attention was on you, as they listened like you were the most important thing in the world. It was both a warm and agonizing feeling, their protectiveness was nice, but it was also scary.

"We were so close to getting out but...they were faster and I...I couldn't..." you choked back on your own voice, feeling the hotness burn on the back of your eyes. "They were better..." you admitted in a whisper, "If I had taken a different route maybe we could have avoided the trap, maybe we could have gotten the drop on them before they got to my team but...."

The feeling of Simon's hand cupping your cheek made you halt, teary eyes meeting his in temporary shock. "It wasn't your fault love," the sincerity in his voice rocks something deep in you, "There was no way anyone could've known." You tilt your head to the side slightly, you wanted to argue, to tell him you could've done a thousand things better.

"Aye, ye acted just how ye were supposed to, ye kept a level head and guided the rest to the best of yer ability," Johnny briefly took over. His voice was hot on your ear, his quiet whispers just as reassuring as the hand on your cheek, "Ye did everything ye could, and ye survived because of it."

"But they didn't..." You sank further into Johnny, sniffling as you held his thumb inside the little cocoon, he made of both of your hands. "They died because of me," you try to argue, despite being grateful that they didn't seem mad you almost wanted them to lash out, to give you right, to let you feel like a monster.

"They didn't die because of you, they died in action, trying to complete the mission they were given," Simon's voice turned a tad harsh, the determination to get through to you all the more prominent. "They knew this was a possibility when they signed up, you did everything you could for them, and the way you make it up to them is to keep going," he told you sternly.

"I know what it's like, to have people fall under your command," he sighs, "S'never not tough, and it's all too easy to fall into the spiral of whose fault it was." You paid close attention to him as he spoke, he always had a captivating way of speaking, just like when he dished out orders, he commanded authority in his mere presence. "It's somethin’ that happens love, it's important to mourn and assess," he looks you directly in the eye, "But it's also important that you know, it makes you neither monster nor failure."

You never knew whether to love or hate the way he could read your brain like had he telepathy, or personal access to your every little fear and sorrow. "It doesn’t make it feel any better," you said quietly, tilting your head into his palm, nuzzling against his skin.

"I know" he puts the half-finished bowl on the nightstand, "Gonna hurt for a while, but we'll be here with you through it." He gave you a half smile, moving closer so he could place a kiss to your forehead. "We're not going anywhere, ain't that right Johnny?" he glances to the man behind you.

"Aye," Johnny's chest rumbles with a hum, his lips placing a trail of loving kisses over your neck. "Not gonna let those nasty thoughts get to ye," he whispers and slowly moves you as Simon directs. Johnny gets you on your side in the bed, your back pressed even further into his chest. Simon gets out of the bed but only for a brief moment. The lights turn off above you, and soon after the bed dips.

You sigh when you feel Simon's skin on your own, his lips find your cheek as he settles in with you and Johnny. His arm supporting both you and Johnny's heads, his other hand coming over you to hold onto the man behind you after moving your hair out of your face. Compressed between them like this always felt like heaven, the pressure they put on your body was grounding and reminded you that you weren't alone.

"Sleep now," Simon's voice rumbled, "We'll be here when you wake up, and we can try again."

They were always here for you, even when you didn't know you needed the extra support. They had worked with you for so long, you had changed a lot with them and for the better. You felt safe with them, no matter how many times you would fall, they would always be there to catch you and get you back on your feet.

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated<3

[adventuringblind]

Joint Coping

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst

Dialouge: "Help me understand."

Summary: Max helps his partners learn to cope in healthy ways

Warnings: Selh-harm, unhealthy Coping, blood, Ferrari, Max being the sane one of the group

Notes: I would like to emphasize that this is a thing that does happen. I know because I've done it. This specifically is not something to be glorified at all. Self-harm done in groups can become competitive. This is a pretty toned down version of things I've experienced and it's less toxic. THIS IS NOT REACHING OUT. Just wanted to clarify :)

This is part of my 1000 follower celebration! Requests are still open if you'd like to participate (the link will take you to the request form).

Masterlist

Max knows something is wrong with his partners. It's like an itch in his brain he can't scratch. A sixth sense, if you will.

The two Ferrari drivers are struggling with their team. Every problem is their fault. They have become the Ferrari scapegoats. When they do poor, it's the driver. When they do good, it's the team and the car.

He's coming to the end of his patience. If he has to hear them self deprecate one more time he might actually consider making them stand in the mirror and say nice things about themselves. Can he fuck it out of them? Is that a possibility? He really doesn't know but is desperate and willing to try anything.

They both DNF at the next race. Max is a man on a mission through media and debrief. He needs to see that they are okay. At the very least not sitting through some kind of lecture a parent gives to a child.

He sprints to the Ferrari garage and runs into Carlos. Despite his injury that took him out of the season, he still comes to support his team and teammates.

"Carlos!" The Spainard spins around to face him. "Have you seen-?"

"They already left over an hour ago. Did they not text you?"

There are warning bells going off inside of his head. Something is clearly wrong and they aren't telling him about it. He's about to sprint away when Carlos stops him.

"Before you go, you should that there were some awful things said by their engineers and they looked really upset about it."

"Thanks Carlos."

Max is back at the hotel as fast as he can manage. He tried both their cells with no answer. It's killing him from the inside out with anxiety. He's probably just overthinking, but it'll feel better when he sees they are okay.

He keys the door open and doesn't bother taking off his shoes. The lights are off aside from the one in the bathroom. Maybe they decided a nice relaxing bath would do the trick. Max could also go for one. He pushes that thought aside for now.

He knocks gently on the door. "You two in there?" No response. Or at least - not one to him directly. There are a few hushed whispers, but nothing loud enough for him to hear.

He waits Aproximatley ten seconds before he can't handle it anymore and swings the door open. He expects to see fogged mirror and water on the floor. Instead he's met with the sight red wrists and thighs.

He's lost. Max Verstappen has no idea what to do.

They are stripped down to undergarments. Legs dangling over the side of tub. A switchblade in the hands of Charles. They both look teary eyed and doped out. Are they enjoying this?

God, he feels so stupid. Weeks of having Sex with no lights on, sweatshirts in hot weather, no swimming and doing private ice bathes away from trainers. He should've noticed. Max could've stopped this sooner. He wants to rewind and tell them to come to him instead of relying on this to get the through.

"Guess you caught us." Charles let's out a half assed laugh. "You gonna stare at us all night? Or can we get the yelling part over with? Last three partners left us when they caught it. I understand if it's to much. Not your burden."

Max had been a later addition. The two in the bathtub had been together since their teenage years. Had they been Coping like this for so long?

"Sorry about the mess. Relapses are hard. We made it all season until a month ago." She leans her head onto Charles' shoulder. How can they make this type of environment endearing? This is unreal and they need serious help. Which Max will eventually get them when he can get his act together.

He kneels on the floor in between them. Max is just now registering the tears on his cheeks. They'd been in pain for so long. It hurts him just thinking about it.

"I'm not going to yell-" he looks at one. "-I'm not going to leave-" he looks at the other. "But help me understand. I want to help."

"It's easier to do with someone else around. It's more therapeutic." The lopsided smile on the female's face is not helping Max. He has to many questions.

First, he gets them cleaned up. Neither of them flinch when he disenfects the wounds. They don't look at him as he wraps them in whatever gauz is in the first aid kit. They look ashamed as he puts the knife in his bag and rinses the tub.

The one that gets him, however, is the look of pure confusion when Max hugs them both so tightly. It's like they don't know how to respond.

They sit in a circle on the bed. It's comfortable and Max can see both their expressions clearly.

"I know the struggle." He starts. "Punishing yourself is better then someone else doing it, right? But I had Daniel there reminding me to reach out."

"It's just easier this way."

"Easier isn't better. Look at the state you're in. I'm not leaving, but I am getting the both of you help."

He followed through with this the next morning. Then looked supposed to see him when they woke up. He, and his childish mind, kissed all the cuts and scars. Every single one of them received proper treatment.

The female cried and thre her arms around Max. Charles had looked away in shame. The reasons they started this are still foreign to him, but that's not his priority.

He gets them help. All of them, mind you. They do group sessions as the three of them to find healthier ways to cope with each other.

Reasons seem to fade into the background because they don't matter as much. The important thing is that Max caught it in time. That he didn't lose them to their own minds. They are partners, and Max would be devistated to lost someone he loves to those dark places.

He rests easier now that the itch has been scratched. His partners are doing better. They smile and laugh at his stupid jokes again. A bit of confidence regained.

And Max reminds them daily that nothing is worth it if you have to destroy yourself for it. Drivers or not, he loves them regardless.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Mrs. Koing is like childhood bffs with one of the wives of the 141 (price) and the two of them go to brunch together and drag along their husbands. For them its so fun and so relaxing and gosh it is so good to catch up girl. For koing and Price its white knuckle, teeth breaking, grip on a weapon while holding a starring match at the other man

LOVE UR WORK

Oh they HATE each other. Price and Konig, I mean. From Price's point of view, it's Konig himself. Hired gun, mercenary, every mean money-chasing name in the book. He doesn't trust PMC ranks(and rightfully so) and gets so, so pissed off when Konig is trying to play the leader on joint missions. We all know that Captain John Price has a problem with respecting authority, and he wasn't afraid to protect Farah from a real US colonel, so he wouldn't be afraid of not putting up with Konig's shit now. They both are forced to endure that embarrassing "our wives are besties, but we don't actually know each other" activities like watching football(they literally have no idea about each other's favorite teams and they don't care) or talking about the weather(the weather is shitty because they can clearly hear their wives talking about their sex life just in the next room, and both of commanders are fucking pissed off) Konig asks about the latest failed mission and Price parries it with the question of how many wells Konig poisoned this week. Price asks about the latest war crime Konig committed in the name of buying his wifey a new diamond ring, and Konig parries it with quesitons about military retirement fund. They are around the same age, both in their late thirties, and they have the old guys' beef. ESPECIALLY if their wives are questionably younger. Price calls Konig a pervert, Konig calls Price a fucking dog, and they both date women in their early to mid-twenties. And their wives don't even know that their husbands hate each other, so they drag them along for double dates! It's fun!

[makethatelevenrings]

Reports and Renewal // S. Riley x f!reader

A/N: hiiiii consider this a 5k follower celebration!!! thank you!!! wtf!!! I am SLAMMED with life and work right now. I'm about to post this and go study some more but HI I APPRECIATE YOU ALL SO MUCH.

I will hopefully be able to do more of a celebration/interactive follower thing once I absolutely dominate this test. Bc I will. (Manifesting!!) warnings: mentions of injuries (fractures, ligament tears) and fatigue, subtle misogyny, swearing but tbh if you're reading COD fanfics and are surprised by swearing...I can't help you

Two sharp raps against the wood of your door drew you away from the cursor blinking repeatedly and the slow creep of it across the page. It wasn’t your fault that it was taking you longer than usual. Only one of your hands was in commission right now thanks to a nasty fall during the last mission. The thought of the injury made your lips thin into a grimace as the sling on your shoulder dug into the tender skin there. A fractured radius and a torn ligament in your shoulder meant you would be stuck at a desk for about two months.

You shuffled the papers back into the manila folder and cleared your throat before calling out a brusque, “come in.”

While you were expecting someone to come in and add more to the growing piles of reports that you needed to type out. Since you weren’t able to be in the field, everyone on your team assumed that you would gladly take on their grunt work.

The massive form of Lieutenant Riley filled the doorframe and you instinctively glanced at his hands for some files, relieved to see something other than those fucking folders. But your brow raised as he stepped into your office and brandished what he held in his gloved hands.

“They gave me an extra sandwich by accident,” he said in lieu of an explanation. “Cook thinks I need to eat the whole fuckin’ Mess. Figured you’d need t’eat something since you weren’t there.”

You spared a glance at the clock on your computer and let out a noncommittal hum. Huh. Guess you were so focused on getting through all this work that you missed dinner call. That sparked your body into making you aware of the stiffness of your joints. You sat back against your chair, a small groan escaping you as your spine stretched and popped.

“Yeah, thanks.” You gestured with your uninjured hand for him to sit across from you. The lieutenant eased himself down into the small wooden desk chair and grimaced at the creak it emitted as it strained under his mass. He leaned forward and placed the sandwich on top of the file you had been working on before sitting back, eyeing the pile that had amassed in the corner of your desk.

“These all yours?” he grunted. You huffed out a laugh that turned into a triumphant cry when you successfully got the sandwich unwrapped.

“Clearly not considering I’m the only asshole around here who finishes their shit on time. Apparently desk duty means being the paperwork lackey. I’m surprised you haven’t caught on and brought me something to type up.”

His dark eyes studied the pile of papers and then he picked them up, thumbing through the paperwork. You didn’t worry about him looking at it. He was of equal rank as you and, while you weren’t 141, you operated in similar circles and collaborated on missions enough to know that he was a cold bastard, but he wouldn’t jeopardize anything.

“Any of these my guys?”

“Nah, MacTavish and Garrick would never.” You took a bite of the dry sandwich and nearly moaned. It was boring and plain and tasted a bit like sawdust, but you were starving. Simon silently nudged your water bottle closer to you and you nodded in thanks. He snapped the files close and set them back on the edge of the desk, the corner teetering off the side and nearly tipping over under the weight.

“Arm’s alright?” Ever the conscientious leader. The constant ache of your torn ligament and broken bone was frustrating, but it was a nice reminder that you were alive. The fall had been from a warehouse walkway when an assailant tossed his empty gun and instead went for a tackle that sent you both over the edge. You twisted your body to make sure he took the brunt of the fall, but your arm hit the ground first after he did. The evac had been a nightmare and couldn’t get in for three hours. Three hours of brutal pain radiating with every move as you and your team held back an onslaught of fire until the 141 was sent to finish business.

“I live to see another day,” you said, with both a hint of humor and the tension of your tentative morality lining your words. You sat back in your chair and winced as your arm jostled against your side.

“You should be resting,” he chastised.

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. Didn’t you come back to work three hours after your appendix burst?”

His mask hid his face, but you could see the slight crinkle of his eyes and that was enough to confirm that the bastard was smirking. You had seen him walk out of medical after they dug two bullets out of his shoulder. There was a reason why the Ghost was such a legend. He didn’t answer but instead pointed at your food and you dutifully took another bite.

“Your team is a bunch of dicks,” he finally said. You bristled at his words and immediately went to defend your men, but he simply raised a hand to stop any arguments. That just made your skin prickle even more with indignation.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re good at what they do. But you’re better. Price has asked about bringing you onto our team.”

“Pretty sure I’d slow you down,” you muttered. Yeah, your team had no qualms in dropping piles of paperwork on your desk, leaving their shit in the gym for you to clean up, and made a point of never inviting you out after work hours. But you didn’t join the military to become best buddies with everyone. You were good at your job, but you weren’t task force material. The 141 were the guys that went in when no one else could. You were the person they sent in when it was a mid-level threat.

“Top of your recruitment class, high marks in everything except in things we can easily train you on. Besides, we got some demolition nuts already. Don’t need a third one of you or Price will go gray by next year. You’re one of the best analysts and have prepared more missions than most. Price thinks you should join us.”

You took a sip of your water to jostle the dryness out of your throat and then screwed the cap back on. Your eyes caught his and you met his stare head on. The Ghost should scare you. He should make you avert your gaze and apologize for daring to look.

He had never made you feel that way. From the moment you were assigned to this base, to this unit, to this office, the Ghost had been distant but decently nice. You had seen him ream out privates for forgetting to tuck their pants into their boots before. Hell, you could hear him yelling at privates and cadets as they attempted the obstacle courses in the pouring rain while you were inside. But he had never raised his voice with you. 

Sure, he had been firm and even snapped once or twice, but he hadn’t yelled the way he had at the kid who tracked mud through the halls last week. Simon made him get a bucket and a brush and to scrub the floors by hand so the janitors wouldn’t have to clean up his mess.

“You’re an established team already. I would just throw off the dynamics.”

“Garrick and Soap already agree they want you in,” he retorted.

Maybe you had a concussion too. Your mind was fuzzy with the details when the 141 came to evac your team. The pain had started to make your brain go foggy when they breached the building. How did you get onto the heli? Surely you walked, right? But you can also remember someone shaking you. That hurt like a bitch. Your team hadn’t given a shit about you at that point when they were busy saving their own hides. 

“What do you think about me joining?” The words left you before you could reel them back. You wanted to know. You were terrified of the answer. He had given you this hope, but was he cruel enough to take it away? Was this the Ghost toying with you? You wished you could see his face.

He merely stood and grabbed the stack of files from your desk, nodded curtly, and exited your office without another word. You waited until the door shut behind him before you let out a long, frustrated breath.

“That motherfucker,” you swore under your breath. Fucking hell, your shoulder ached. Your head ached too. You let it fall against the cool wood of your desk and shut your eyes in an attempt to ward off the exhaustion, pain, and embarrassment that now burned its way through your chest.

Might as well get this goddamn fucking report done.

You sat back up, pushed it all aside, compartmentalized, breathed. You opened the folder and began to peck at the keyboard once more.

Once it was done and sent to the appropriate COs and channels, you grabbed your bag and made your way down the hall towards the Mess. You were almost out of the office quadrant when a gruff voice called your name. Captain Price exited his office and extended his hand, luckily the opposite of your uninjured one so it wasn’t an awkward shake.

“Got your transfer paperwork drawn up and ready, if you want to sign it before you head out. Get you over to our team faster. I’ve heard great things from your CO and I’ve seen the work you’ve done in the field. It’ll be nice having someone more level headed than those muppets.” He paused and an almost pained look took over his face. “How likely are you to accidentally set off an explosive just for shits and giggles?”

You stifled a laugh and followed him into his office so you could sign those papers.

“Simon has told me what he’s seen during your training. You’ll be a great asset to have on the 141,” Price continued once you signed your name without hesitation. You paused once his words sunk in and looked up at your new boss.

“Ghost has talked about me?”

“Christ, I think he might be ready to make some fucking t-shirts with your face on it. Thought he damn near ripped the spines out of those boys who had you doing their reports. Don’t tell him I told you that. He’d take a right fucking piss out of me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, sir,” you assured.

“Right, dismissed then. Be here at 0700 tomorrow. I don’t give a shit if you’re on IR, we’ll find something for you that isn’t pecking the keys until your eyes fall out from staring at that screen.” You nodded and didn’t even try to fight the smile that crept onto your face. It lingered on your face, right next to the phantom touch of the Ghost’s gloves when he grasped your face the moment they found you in that warehouse.

[catnipaddictt]

I hate you

enemy TCW!anakin x gn!reader

synopsis: you and anakin hate each other with a passion

wc: 1.5k

cw: fluff, angst, kissing, making-out

Slamming the door behind you, you storm down the halls of the jedi temple, hell-bent on getting your way. You weren’t going on a mission with him. Reaching the doors that lead to the council chambers you open them with more strength than you intended. The sound causes the heads of the council to turn towards you. 

“I’m not going” you state rather than ask. “Anyone else, but not him.” You can feel the gaze of the other Jedi on your face. You sense they knew you were coming, probably through the sheer amount of emotion radiating off you. Obi Wan speaks before any of the other members have the chance to. 

“The council decided that you both could use this mission to sort out your uh-differences” Obi Wan speaks with a calm tone. If he picks up on your disapproval he doesn’t say so. You cross your arms over your Jedi robes unamused. “I won’t do it.”

“You have no choice, we have no choice, you too are the only ones available” He speaks your name softly. “I’m sorry we have to do this, but we need two people to complete this mission, and you both have the skills required.” You go to speak but are cut off quickly by the older Jedi. “It's final.”

You find yourself in a small ship somewhere in the outer rim brooding in the corner when he first speaks to you. “If you stopped sulking you would notice that we are about to land.” Anakin Skywalker speaks in a tone that is meant to incite a reaction from you. But you don’t give in to the novelty, instead you opt to ignore him completely.

You can feel him roll his eyes at your ignorance before moving to go pilot the ship to the surface of the desert planet you had been sent too. According to the Jedi Council, a smuggler had found something that was of interest to the Separatists. So here you were, on a remote planet with the one person you did not get along with. 

Twenty minutes later Anakin had landed the ship close to the coordinates the Jedi had given to R2, and you were standing by the door to the ship. Pulling your cloak over your head, you step out onto the white sand covering the landscape. Wind whips at the ground, causing sand to fly like bullets through the warm air. 

You cover your eyes with your arm as you notice Anakin make the descent down the steps. You can hear him grumbling to R2 about how much he hates sand. Something to do with where he came from, you supposed. 

You walked the short distance to the meeting spot. Which was a small oasis, surrounded by a few palm trees and shrubbery. After a few moments of waiting, your head turns towards the sound of a vehicle, and sure enough you see some sort of floating buggy moving towards you and Anakin. 

Once it reaches you, a creature that is unknown to you gets out and passes you a small silver box, which you take as Anakin hands it the payment. 

You turn the box in your hand, observing the intricate patterns etched into it. What in Kriffs name were they wanting this for? You tuck the object into your pocket as Anakin bids farewell to the trader, the cloud of sand from the buggy’s engine blows towards the ground as it zooms off. 

Your eyes briefly meet Anakins, but you both rip them away quickly, turning on your heel to march back to the ship. The other Jedi follows behind you at a distance, talking to his droid quietly. Throwing open the metal door you climb inside the ship, sitting back down in the corner. You don’t see why the council sent both of you on this mission. It clearly didn’t require any skills. 

Anakin enters the ship, scowling at you. R2 follows him before rolling off to charge and clean the sand from his joints. Anakin sits down in the opposite corner from you, folding his arms. You don’t look at him, instead observing each individual nail on your hand. 

“Are we leaving or are you just going to stare at me?” you speak after a few minutes of silence as well as Anakin's piercing gaze. “We are going to talk” he says with a hint of annoyance. You don’t even bother to look up. “The council obviously wants us to come to some sort of agreement over what is going on here.” 

“What’s going on here? What’s going on here is that you are so self centered that you can’t see that everyone maybe doesn’t like you” You spit at him, to which he responds with a huff. “And maybe if you stopped and looked around for a second you would see that you don’t think before you act. And the rest of us have to clean up your mistakes” You continue with a raised voice. 

He doesn’t reply to your words at first, but eventually he returns the peasantry with the same attitude. “Well, maybe if you acted less like a brat all the time, I would be able to stand you. You walk around like you can just get what you want all the time. And you do. All the time.” You try to get a word in but are cut off. “No, I don’t want to hear it, just because you can’t deal with not getting your way doesn’t mean you have to treat me like shit all the time.” 

You stand up, causing the crate you were sitting on to slide backwards. “Oh and you don’t always get your way too, Mr. Chosen one. Haven’t you noticed that the council gives you what you want, even if you aren’t the right person for the job.” Your words spill out of your mouth at a pace you didn’t think was possible.

He stands up as well, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Like you didn’t go complain to the council about this very assignment. You thought you could waltz in there and get out of it. I didn’t want to do this but you didn’t see me throwing a tantrum and going to the council.” Anakin rebuts, his voice now yelling at you. His brows are furrowed as he shouts.

You try to think of what to say but nothing comes to you. Instead you stand there only an arms length away from him, anger radiating off of you. “I hate you” is all you can manage. It's immature but it's the only way that you can express how you feel about him. 

You think Anakin is about to continue his verbal attack on you but instead you are caught off guard by him roughly pushing you against the metal wall of the ship. And before you can process his actions, his mouth is on yours.

You go completely still before reacting to his lips connecting to yours. Instead of doing the sensible thing of pushing him away and yelling at him more, your lips move with the kiss until it is a messy clash of teeth and tongues. Anakin’s arms cage you in as your mouths move in sync. You know you shouldn’t do this because of the Jedi code but his lips feel perfect against yours, and as much as you hate it, you are enjoying this.

Anakin pulls away to breathe, “This means nothing” he says breathlessly before reconnecting your lips. You kiss him back harshly before pulling away, “You make me sick” you say before kissing him again. The cycle of taking turns in between making out to insult each other goes on for what feels like forever. Slowly both of your tones go from speaking to whispering and mumbling into each other's lips. “I still hate you” you say against Anakin’s soft lips. He returns the favour “I still hate you too”. You both join your lips together again, his hands now roaming and coming to rest on your hips, pulling you against him. You can feel his tongue in your mouth and the air coming out of his nose on your face. 

Your own hands grab onto his cloak, still covered in a fine layer of sand, needing to hold onto something, or in this case someone. But this particular someone was your sworn enemy. You would never have thought you would be in a situation like this. Directly going against the Jedi code, especially because of Anakin, was a far off idea, that you would have called crazy if you had suggested it to past you. But surprisingly you don’t hate it. His warm body pressing against yours was nothing like you have felt before, and you didn’t want it to end.

No matter which way you looked at it. You could feel yourself becoming addicted to Anakin Skywalker's touch at this moment. Fuck. You pull away, finally coming to your senses. “We shouldn’t have done that.” you state clear as day. His arms don’t leave their new home, instead they grip you tighter as his face comes towards you again. “And you hate that you liked it.” he says with a sly grin. Instead of arguing you can’t resist attaching yourself to him again. 

You can feel him against you, and his saliva in your mouth, tainting your morals. And you hate to admit it, but you don’t want this to end. You want him all to yourself.

Taglist: @heartsforanakin @qvnthesia

I don't like this that much and I didn't know what to do for an ending but here you go <3 Also if people are interested in a taglist lmk!

[bouncybongfairy]

Simon Says

Ghost!Keegan!Soap x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: After coming back from the bar and continuing the last mission's success at the safe house. Price comes out, complaining about the noise, so you guys move it to your room. A foul game of Simon Says takes place.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Group Smut & Facial, Male Receiving Head, Rough Smut.

Not Proof Read

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was late and Ghost, Soap, Keegan and yourself were hanging out in the living room of the safe house. The current mission you were working on just wrapped up and everyone was celebrating with drinks and laughter; a rare sight within task force 141. Everyone else had gone to bed after coming home from the bar. They had their fill of fun but you guys were just getting started. Pouring shots of cheap vodka and smoking while listening to music. Price came out, complaining about the smell and noise, moving to your room to avoid any more confrontations. You were nervous to have all three of them in your room. They were looking around at all your stuff, posters, stuffed animals, and of course the stereo. You connected your phone and started playing BabyMetal, Keegan picked up a picture from your desk.

“Is this you?” he asked, holding a picture of you in freshman year of college. It was you and a good friend, you grew up in Jersey which meant Snooki pretty much was your fashion icon all of college. 

“Is that a joint?” Ghost asked, laughing at your duck lips and hair extensions.

“Yeah it was quite the era. Look, I was crying because my sister and I got into a huge fight over who’s turn it was for the Juicy Couture bag. You can see where my spray tan ran down my neck” you laugh reminiscing on simpler times.  

Ghost was sitting on your office chair, legs spread and leaning over to reach the cigarette you were sharing. Keegan and Soap were lounge on your bed; you were curled up on a beanie bag. You couldn’t remember who suggested it but you guys started playing drinking games. Things like fuck the dealer and flip cup. You were getting pretty tipsy, giggling randomly and your body warming up. The boys were having a conversation among themselves while you lined up the shot glasses and grabbed the bottle. 

“Are you sure you can handle another drink?” Soap asked.

“Are you asking me or yourself?” you asked, handing the liquor out. 

After some more small talk, you excused yourself to change. Normally your pajamas are pretty revealing so you wear a sweatshirt and cotton shorts. Long socks because it was always freezing in your room. Once you started getting dressed you noticed how drunk you actually were. Tripping slightly while trying to get your shorts on Coming out and watching as all their eyes fall onto you. Clearly looking you up and down, at first you wanted to be like ‘oh my god don’t look at me like that’ but also you did so… why lie? You sat back on the bean bag as Keegan began to speak. 

“We should play another game,” he said. 

“What about Simon Says?” Ghost says. 

“Isn’t that your name?” you drunkenly giggle. 

“Yeah, so just know when I say something you have to take it seriously,” he said.

After that comment that vibe in the room felt different after that. All of them went from sitting back and lounging to sitting forwards. Soap and Ghost were sitting on the bed, Keegan was on the office chair. You beanbag was on the floor so they were all looking down on you.

“Simon says: sit on my lap,” he says, leaning back slightly like he was making room. All their breathing became harder, you rolled your eyes at the reaction. 

“What is this middle school? Out of all the things you could have asked?” you laugh, walking over and sitting on his thighs without hesitation. Making the point that it wasn’t a very daunting task. 

“Okay hot shot, Simon says: to read smut out loud,” Soap said, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t read-'' you started but was interrupted. 

“Yes you do,”  they all said in unison, “you need to invest in a privacy screen,” Keegan said, you could tell all three of them were smirking under their masks. 

“Fine.” you grab your phone and look through your tumblr. 

If they wanted to show, you were going to go full out. Finding a Captain America smut about hooking up in the barracks. It was obvious that they were wanting you to be flustered and flushed but it was doing the opposite. They were blushing and squirming around like there was no way to get comfortable. As you continued to read, Simon was getting hard. This was throwing you off your game a bit, now beginning to stumble over your words. Ghost noticed this and leaned back in his chair more, allowing him to press his member against your ass. 

You started rocking your hips every now and then. Enjoying hearing his almost silent groans and growls. His hands were starting to wander, running up and down your thighs. You looked over at the other guys and they were practically drooling. Looking at you like a can of beer they waited all day to crack open. Soap got up first and Keegan followed, your heart began to race. He slowly approached you and cupped your face in his hands. Rubbing your cheeks with his calloused thumbs. Keegan was on the side of him, brushing the hair out of your face. 

“Such a pretty little thing right?” Soap asked Keegan. This made you shiver, goosebumps prickled along your skin. Your phone dropping to the floor, Ghost kicked it away. 

“Fuck yeah, just begging to be ruined,” he said, grabbing your shirt and pulling it off your body. Leaving your chest completely exposed. Keegan reached down and pinched one of your nipples, pulling and twisting. You gasp and try leaning back but Ghost isn't letting you go anywhere. 

“Where do you think you’re running off to?” Ghost asked, grabbing your elbows. 

Soap grabbed the other and Ghost held you in place as they groped and played with your chest. The more you squirmed the harder Ghost became, pre-cum starting to bleed through his pants. Your face was flushed and sweat was beading on your forehead. Keegan used his other hand and parted your lips with his thumb. Eventually pushing it into your mouth; pressing your tongue down and feeling around your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his thumb looking up and shifting your eyes between the two of them. Pulling his thumb out and spreading your saliva all over your lips. Ghost stood you up slightly so he could free his dick that was straining against his pants. Pulling your shorts to the side and lining you up with his tip; grabbing your hips guiding you down on his member. He groaned and let his chin fall on top of your head. Your eyes rolled back and a loud gasp fell from your lips. Moaning and panting while you got used to how big he was. 

“Why do you get her?” Keegan asked. 

“Use her mouth i’m fucking busy,” he growled, trying his best not to buck into you. 

The fact that he was talking about you like an objection shouldn’t have made your stomach flip the way it did. Soap and Keegan pulled their dicks out and began stroking themselves. Looking down, admiring your body, you started bouncing. The wet squelching sounds every time you sink down on his length. Your eyebrows furrowed and mouth hanging open, not caring about the droll falling from your bottom lip. Keegan grabbed two fistfuls of your hair and brought your lips to his cock. Taking his tip into your mouth and flicking your tongue on his head. He moaned and started pushing himself further into your mouth. Soap rested his length on your cheek, insinuating he wanted in on the fun. You grabbed his shaft and started jerking him off. Ghost was getting less gentle with you, starting to pound into you with more aggression. His nails were digging into the skin on your hip, tightening around him when his head kissed your cervix. Whimpering around Keegan cock, spit and pre-cum running down your torso. In so much pleasure, you were neglecting Soap. Especially as you began cumming around his cock, your walls pulsating around his member as you nearly screamed in pleasure. 

“Fuck dude, my turn,” Soap said, pushing Keegan to where he was just standing.  

After being touched-starved for so long, he showed no mercy on your throat. Fucking into your mouth at an animalistic pace. Causing you to gag around his length, mascara stained tears running down your face. Keegan was enjoying the sight, watching your bounce on Ghost while having your throat obliterated. Like a personal porn star made just for them. Ghost was getting close to his orgasm, trying hard to hold himself back. Biting onto your shoulder, to muffle the sounds and delay his climax. Soap came early, cum was spilling out the sides of your mouth, only adding to the wet fucking noise that already filled the room. Ghost began cumming, shooting thick ropes deep into your stomach. Holding you down as hard as he could, rocking your hips as you milked him. Keegan came on your face, cumming on one of your lashes. Forcing you to keep it closed, which hummored the two of them. You lean back against Ghost’s chest, practically dead from how fucked out you were. You don't remember much the next morning, but thought it was nice of them to clean you up and tuck you into bed. The walk of shame to the bathroom while having a hangover and cum dripping down your thigh wasn’t how you wanted to start your morning but oh well.             

[maislovebot]

I just threw out the love of my dreams

Chuuya x reader

This one won the pole! So here it is, expect that Aku and Atsu threesome soon, don’t worry:3

Contains: afab reader, they/them prns, makeup sex, Chuuya spoils you after an argument, porn with plot, but the plot is just buildup for smut, foreplay, Chuuya calls reader pretty + darling + doll, face sitting/riding/oral (reader receiving), slight hair pulling, overstim, brief dry humping, Chuuya’s needy and vocal, squirting, creampie & belly bulge BUT I don’t explicitly mention either of them, reader is wearing a dress, proofread, aftercare

Chuuya considered himself an angry person. Things can easily tick him off, but he’s learned how to manage his anger pretty well when it comes to you. He would shut his lips whenever he felt like making a snide remark because he had a particularly bad day, and whenever things did slip, he’d apologize right afterwards.

This, however, was not one of those times.

He wasn’t even mad at you, you were just..there, and you wouldn’t stop asking him how his day was. He was really mad at Dazai, who he had happened to run into in town, and Dazai just wouldn’t leave Chuuya alone. He wouldn’t quit teasing him about his height, ‘ugly’ hats, and so on. It was mainly just light teasing though, so he decided to be the bigger person and just grumble and walk away. It clearly left Dazai dumbfounded, as he had never met a Chuuya who turned the other cheek. It stunned him, and that did uplift Chuuya’s mood a little. That was until Ougai interrupted his wonderful shopping and forced him into a mission, when he was off the clock. Ougai was claiming that times have been tight, and he needs more help than usual, but considering the type of person Ougai is, Chuuya was suspicious that the boss was just giving him more work because he knew Chuuya was in a long term relationship, and he wanted to make life as hard on Chuuya as physically possible.

The mission in of itself was fairly simple, trick some cops into thinking that the Port Mafia had absolutely nothing to do with a case (they had everything to do with the case), and considering how good of an actor Chuuya is, he was the prime candidate.

Many cops are corrupt and just want to close a case as soon as possible, so Chuuya assumed he wouldn’t need to put on a very convincing performance, but he was gravely mistaken by a certain cop. She was extremely observant, and clearly well respected in her profession. She wanted to do this thing called ‘actually getting to the bottom of the case’, and while that is a respectful ideology, it made his work so much harder than it had to be.

All that Chuuya really wanted to do was go home to you, have sex, hang out, and go to bed. But clearly he was going to have to push that schedule back.

He ultimately managed to get the cop to believe him, and he went on with his day. Briefly reporting to the boss, and going home on his motorcycle. He was just dreaming about going home and holding you close after such a long day, but he fucked that all up.

It really wasn’t your fault, but he couldn’t help but get annoyed.

“Chuu, how was it? How’d shopping go?”

You were met with silence. You assumed he didn’t hear you.

“Uhh..Chuuuyaaa how was your day?”

Chuuya grumbled, not really saying anything. Keep it in, he thought to himself. It isn’t their fault. You heard his grumble, tilting your head, attempting to grab Chuuya’s hand as he walked to your joint bedroom.

“Chuuya? What’s wrong?” You questioned.

“Leave me alone..”

“Why?”

Chuuya took a deep breath in, “please. Just leave me. the fuck. alone. I don’t wanna talk about it.”He raised his voice. “You’re being so annoying right now.”

He never did that. He’d leave a snide remark here and there, sure, but it was always apologized for pretty much the second it left his mouth.

You pulled your hand away, freezing for a few moments. You waited for an apology. He always gave you an apology.

He didn’t apologize.

You shook your head, coming back to your senses. Chuuya noticed you grabbing some shoes and a coat, then your keys. What Chuuya had done finally settled in his mind, and he grabbed your wrist. He was sufficiently stronger than you, so he did manage to hold you in place, until you jerked your arm away and headed towards the door of the lovely penthouse you two were staying in.

“Doll, I’m sorry—I don’t know why I said that!”

You kept quiet. You could feel tears bubbling at your eyes, making it hard to see as you fidgeted with your keys to find the one to the front door. You finally did, walking outside and to the elevator that took you downstairs. Chuuya followed you out, trying to convince you to talk it out. You two rarely argued, but when you did you always had a problem with running away instead of talking it out. Chuuya tried to understand it from your perspective. You shut the elevator doors on him, effectively shutting him out. Considering his powers, he could probably do something to mess with the elevator doors and make them come back up, but Chuuya didn’t want to force you to be around him when you clearly wanted space. He instead shamefully walked back to the front door, walking in and leaning against the door as he broke into a cold sweat.

He really just did that.

Chuuya looked next to him, and noticed your phone sitting on the side table next to the front door. He had no way of contacting you either.

You needed space, you’d come back in a few hours. He knew you would.

10:24 pm. It was 10:24 pm and there was still no sign of you. Every time he heard a car passing by he’d jump up and check the window to see if it was you, and it never was. He was seriously worried, after all, you had no phone and he had no other way of figuring out where you were or if you were in trouble. To make things worse, he knew you didn’t tell anyone where you were going. You never did. Anytime you were upset you were gone before anyone could even ask where you were going, and it was really biting him in the ass.

He wanted to give you space, but he was seriously worried, so he decided to get onto his motorcycle and bring his extra helmet with him. He didn’t know where you were going, but he had a pretty good idea.

You really fucked up. You would always go places without telling anyone, especially when you were sad, and now you were seriously regretting it. You had realized you’d forgotten your phone a while ago, and you had driven to a dirt road in the woods, one you always went to when you were bored, or upset, or honestly just because you could. You ultimately came here because you wanted to get away from everyone for a little bit, only to realize you were completely out of gas and parking on the side of the road. You had absolutely zero gas left anywhere.

You would consider walking down the road until you found somewhere to go, but it was currently dark out and you knew it would be rash to walk in the middle of the woods in a short dress with no phone or car, or even a map. If only you’d just stayed home.

Your car door was locked tight, scared of what might happen if it wasn’t. You simply sat in the drivers side, sort of dumbfounded. What the hell were you gonna do? You took a deep breath in, okay, to start, let’s move to the back seat and lay down so no one sees you in the car. Then, sit and wait till someone gets you?

‘God I really dug your own grave with this one,” was all you could think. Your own mistake bounced around your head on repeat, regret filling your veins

You couldn’t help but think of Chuuya. You missed him so badly, and even if you were still a little hurt by his outburst, you would kill to just be home with him again. You couldn’t help but think of what you’d do with Chuuya once you got home. You’d hold him close, cradle his face, kiss him and feel him up.

You were distracted from your thoughts from hearing a motorcycle driving up behind you, and you couldn’t help but perk up praying it was Chuuya. You expected it to be a pipe dream, but you noticed the motorcycle slowing down, and it was definitely his. He parked it in front of your car, before walking back and you scrambled to the front seat to unlock the doors. He opened the door and placed his helmet in the back seat, barely having enough time to move his hands back before you moved yourself over the center console and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I was so scared I was gonna have to stay the night here..”

“I’d never let that happen.”

“How did you find me anyways?”

“I remember you saying something or other about this mountain being a nice place to relax. It was just a lucky guess.”

Chuuya couldn’t help but chuckle at the way you nestled your face in his jacket, and he raked his hands through your hair. He held your head in place to help calm you down.

“Listen..I’m so sorry for what I said..it was an asshole move.” Chuuya grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back, kissing you on the cheek quickly before pulling away.

“It’s fine..just don’t do it again.” You said, looking away from him.

“Is that it?” Chuuya questioned.

“What do you mean?”

“Well..I caused all this, why forgive me right away?”

You shook your head.

“What, do you expect me to ask you to get on your knees and grovel at my feet?” You poked his cheek and looked at him with a grin.

“Well, no but..”

“Listen, Chuuya, you apologized, and that’s enough. Just make an effort to not do it again.”

Chuuya nodded, before getting a sly expression.

“Well..I should still try and say sorry for what I did, right? Should I spoil you once we get home?” Chuuya’s question had undeniable flirty undertones, and you couldn’t help but heat up at his insinuation.

“Well? Should l?”

You looked right at Chuuya.

“Of course you can. But..” you trailed off.

“What is it?”

You looked at Chuuya with a dumb look. How does he not know?

“Well my car is out of gas and I don’t really wanna leave it here overnight..”

Chuuya giggled, looking overly confident. What bullshit was he gonna stir up now?

“I think you’ve forgotten I can control gravity.”

You laughed at what he was insinuating and how proud he looked at his rebuttal.

“Alright but you better not drop my car!”

Chuuya nodded, chuckling and leading you to his motorcycle.

Luckily, Chuuya didn’t drop your car. You honestly didn’t know how he managed to hide it from everyone and drive his motorcycle at the same time, but he is a man of many talents.

Once you and Chuuya arrived at your shared penthouse, he entered the elevator and picked you up bridal style and carried you inside of your house, and once you entered the door you pushed Chuuya up against the door. Chuuya looked taken aback at your bold move, but he quickly melted into the kiss and let you wrap your arms around his waist. As much as Chuuya loved how you pressed him against the door and yourself against him, he wanted to pamper you today, and he couldn’t really do that like this. He gripped your arms and spun until you were pressed against the door instead, and he leaned back in to keep kissing your lips. He pressed his knee into your crotch while trailing down to kiss you on your neck, and settling atop your chest, kissing and licking your exposed skin.

Chuuya kept one hand on the side of your head and the other slowly crept up your shirt, until he made contact with your bra and reached behind your back to undo the bra strap. Once your bra was undone, he brought both of his hands down to lift your shirt up and over your frame. He was still kissing you, running his hands over your chest and pulling and twisting over your nipples. You gently moaned into the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist. The new position gave Chuuya more power, so he relentlessly pressed you into the wall and kissed you even deeper, reaching his hand down into your shorts to rub short circles into your clit.

You moaned louder into his mouth, and Chuuya finally decided that was enough and carried you over to the bed and sat down on it with your legs still wrapped around him. He moaned at the way you tugged on his hair when he gently bit down on your nipple.

Chuuya removed your shorts and underwear by hooking his finger on them, adoring the way you kicked them off of your legs. You reached down to unbutton his vest, and he sat up to pull his jacket and vest off in one go. He reached up and unbuttoned his white button up shirt, letting it sit on him like a jacket.

Chuuya laid back, gripping your ass and trying to push you up.

“You wanna sit on my face?”

Your eyes widened, before turning away embarrassed.

“What’s the hold up?” Chuuya asked.

“Well it’s a little embarrassing,”

“It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

You swallowed thickly, “and every time it’s embarrassing.”

Chuuya smiled, rubbing circles into your thighs to calm you down.

“You’re so pretty, especially when your pretty cunt is all over my face.”

You would’ve been more worrisome, but ever since you got home you’d been desperate. Chuuya was so good with his tongue, you couldn’t help but fantasize and subconsciously lift yourself up and over his face.

“There you go,” Chuuya praised.

You hovered over Chuuya’s face, and Chuuya was running out of patience. He gripped your thighs to bring you closer to him, and once his tongue made contact with your cunt you saw stars. You shamelessly ground yourself onto his tongue, as Chuuya guided you back and forth on his face, rocking you back and forth. Chuuya loved the small moans that left your mouth.

“Mmnn..Chuu..”

“Hm?” Chuuya hummed from under you.

“Feels good..” you mumbled; Chuuya chuckled. He kept licking your clit to the best of his abilities, proving to be slightly difficult as you rocked yourself against his face. Chuuya loved your desperacy, but he wanted to please you himself. He felt awful about what he said to you earlier, and all he wanted was to was fuck you so good all the crying and negative thoughts swirling through your head from his unkind words would be completely forgotten, and instead replaced with pleasure. He gripped your thighs tight enough to keep you in place, using the opportunity to swirl his tongue around your clit. He loved how your thighs tightened around his head.

Chuuya was practically drooling at the taste of your cunt, small amounts of saliva dribbling around the corner of his mouth. He licked a stripe up your cunt, moaning at your taste.

“So good..” Chuuya mumbled, voice muffled by your thighs.

Chuuya reached his tongue up to your hole, licking around it before slowly pushing his tongue inside. You jumped at his actions, grinding your cunt onto his face. You feared you may hurt him if you kept at it, but the feeling was so addicting you couldn’t stop.

Chuuya’s tongue was as deep inside you as it could go, thrusting his tongue desperately. You tasted amazing, your sensitivity was alluring, you looked amazing above him.

How had he ever said those terrible things to you?

You grinding yourself into Chuuya’s mouth eventually evolved into you just riding his face. His nose swirled your clit as you humped on him, and your legs started shaking even more as you gripped the bedsheets and Chuuya’s hair. Chuuya was barely even moving his mouth at this point, as you were doing most of the work for yourself. Chuuya wanted to do all of the work, but he let it slide because he could tell how good it felt.

“Chuuya, ‘m cumming!” You yelped out. Chuuya couldn’t help but reach his hand down to touch his raging hard on. He rubbed on it, causing small whimpers to leave his mouth, the vibrations sending you over the edge and making you cum with a cry. Your cum dripped down onto his face, and he had no shame in licking it up. Still leaning over his face, he would lick your sensitive cunt while cleaning up your cum, and he would always twitch at your overstimulated cries. He couldn’t help it anymore, he shamelessly began to tug his pants down while you were still lingering above him and catching your breath. He tugged his pants and boxers down until there was just enough room for his cock, and he began pumping himself desperately.

“You taste so good..I can’t help it..” he said. His voice had a tinge of regret in it, and you could tell he was sitting in shame from what he said to you.

You lifted yourself off of Chuuya on shaky thighs, and Chuuya gripped your thighs to help you gently lift yourself off of him. You fell to Chuuya’s side, lifting yourself to lay your face next to him. You rested your hand in his hair, ruffling it.

“I’m sorry for being such an asshole earlier.” Chuuya grumbled, not towards you but himself. He still couldn’t get over how dumb he was. What was the point in insulting you? Why did he say those things? Why would he ever say anything to hurt you when you’ve never shown him anything but kindness? You’re so patient with him, he can’t even imagine why he would ever hurt you, even if it was a fit of anger.

“Don’t freak out, Chuuya. It’s fine now. I know you’re sorry.”

“Even if you forgive me, let me treat you good. Make you forget all those things I said.” Chuuya said as he turned over to you and leaned above you, towering over you with his hands on either side of your face. Chuuya currently had his pants and boxers pulled down to his mid thigh, and you giggled when his legs faltered from above you because of the lack of space. Chuuya noticed this and reddened a little bit, pulling his pants the rest of the way down. With this he took his white button up off the rest of the way, leaving himself completely naked. He straddled your hips so he could lean down and kiss and nibble on your neck, and you giggled as he prodded into your thigh.

Chuuya brought his hand down to rub circles on your clit, and you jumped at the overstimulation. He ground himself against your leg as he slowly pushed two of his fingers past your tight hole. Pulling his fingers apart to scissor and stretch you out as preparation. You felt dizzy, partially from crying in your car earlier but also from his actions. He slowly pushed a third finger inside, and you groaned at the stretch. The burn was slight, but you couldn’t even think about that as you thrust your hips up and down on his hand. His fingers were so nice. They were pretty and long and had little scars spread sporadically across them from what you presumed were past battles, leaving some spots white in comparison to the rest of his skin.

He leaned down, his chest flush with yours as he panted into your neck. He would occasionally suck on the side of your neck until it turned purple, keeping a firm grip on your hair in the process. Chuuya’s cock was throbbing, and he couldn’t help himself from grinding himself down on your thigh here and there.

“Pretty..”

Chuuya has decided that he had stretched you out plenty, so he slowly pulled his fingers out and licked them clean as you stared at him in awe. Chuuya lifted himself from your thigh, twitching at the warm feeling of your pussy as he slowly pushed himself inside. He only had the tip, but it was more than enough for him to whimper slightly. He wasn’t typically this sensitive, but after everything that happened today, he was pitifully needy. He needed to feel you around him and taste you on his tongue, and so much more. He had to make up for everything he did.

Chuuya slowly pushed himself past your tight entrance, throwing his head back as you clenched around him. It was strange to see him so needy, but it certainly wasn’t bad. It was foreign but comfortable despite it. He finally reached the hilt, and he almost immediately started pulsing and twitching inside of you. Chuuya sat there for a few moments, waiting for you to adjust, before you whined and started thrusting your hips yourself.

“Please move..Chuuya..”

Chuuya wanted to let you get comfortable, but you clearly had other plans, and who was he to deny you what you wanted? Tonight was all about you. Chuuya gripped your hips, holding you in place.

“Let me do all the work, darling.”

Chuuya slowly pulled out to the tip, snapping his hips back in place. You yelped, moving your hands up to hold his shoulders to get some sense of stability, but you ended up digging your nails into his shoulders to help ground yourself. Chuuya could feel the sting as his shoulders turned white where your nails were, but he loved it. The sting felt so good, almost deserved. Even if you didn’t do it with any malicious intent, or do it for some revenge plan, it helped him to feel somewhat even with you. Not to mention, it just felt really good.

Chuuya kept thrusting into you relentlessly. After getting some semblance of self control, he started aiming himself towards your g-spot, which he knew by heart. He knew exactly where it was and how you liked to have it touched, and once he quickly found it, he started targeting that spot without stopping. It was, for lack of a better word, overstimulating. You pulled Chuuya down towards your face, wanting to hold him close. You removed one of his hands from your hips and entangled it with your fingers, holding his hand as it rested next to your head. Chuuya loved the feeling, moving his other hand from your hip as well. He held your hands above your head, leaving you to arch your back up into him. You reached your head up just enough to make contact with his lips, and he pushed your head down into the mattress, kissing you deeply. His tongue danced along yours.

He moved his lips to barely hover over yours, moving his dominant hand down to press on your stomach.

“You like that, pretty? Like how deep you can feel me?”

You whimpered and nodded your head, moving your now free hand to tangle in his hair. Chuuya trailed his hand down to brush over your stomach and eventually your clit, rubbing circles on it. You cried into Chuuya’s mouth, the sound muffled. You moved your hand down to his back, holding him in place.

“Keep going, ‘m close..”

Chuuya kept his pace, his legs never faltering. He rubbed circles on your clit with excellency. You always wondered how he had gotten so experienced despite his lack of free time. You kept holding Chuuya in place, pulling him to lay flush with your stomach. His lips still lingered over yours, and you tightened around him and came with a loud moan. What you didn’t realize, however, was that you had squirted, drenching his entire lower abdomen in your cum. Chuuya’s eyes widened at this. Chuuya lifted himself up and looked down to where your bodies met. He smirked at the sight, and when he looked up and saw your embarrassed face he grinned, kissing your temple.

Chuuya could feel himself twitching inside of you. He was right on the edge. He was so close, and it was making him feel emotional.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I called you annoying.”

Chuuya was teetering so close to the edge, and the way you held him close only made it worse. He was feeling so many conflicted emotions, he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t know why I told you to leave me alone, I don’t know what I’d do if you really did.” Chuuya cut himself off, rubbing circles on your clit again. Overstimulated, you shut your eyes and dug them into his neck.

“You being gone for just a few hours was driving me crazy.”

You pulled your head away and brought your hand up to play with Chuuya’s hair.

“It’s alright, Chuu. I know you’re sorry. You don’t have to be mad at yourself forever.” You brushed your fingers through Chuuya’s hair, curling his hair around your finger in a perfect manner. “I’m not even mad at you anymore.” As you spoke, Chuuya was slowing down his movements and he came. You forgave him, and he could rest easy. The confirmation slowed his heart rate down, his body slowing down as well before eventually leading to a halt. He kissed your collarbones and nipples before pulling out of you. Chuuya flipped your positions so you could rest above him, burying your face in his neck as your legs intertwined. Chuuya smiled when you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He rubbed gentle circles on your hips to help soothe what he could only assume was sore, before lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom.

“You did so good for me,” Chuuya whispered right in your ear as he carried you, placing you inside the bathtub.

“‘M sorry..” Chuuya mumbled yet again, clearly a little ashamed.

You didn’t respond, instead gripping his arm to pull him into the bath with you. Chuuya landed on top of you and you giggled. All he could have hoped for is that you’d forgive him, and it seemed like you did.

Wc - 4.3k

When Chuuya pinned reader to the wall, all I could think about was how he’d have to be on his tippy toes to kiss me bc I’m so much taller than him😭 he’s so cute :’)

[sad-not-glad]

Sharing is Caring

Soft Dom! Steve x Sub! Bucky x Dom! reader

Warnings: smut!!!! Sm smut. Blowjobs. Mommy kink. Captain kink. MMF threesome. Anal. The list goes on.

Word count: 4198

A/N: I’m a slut for sub! Bucky. Always. This is a repost since I was fkn stupid and deleted my old account. Enjoy!

Your little apartment was quiet save for the soft sounds of the city waking up that drifted in from the window. Today was a cleaning day so you had woken up early, opened all the windows, and set to work. You intended to have the place spotless in time for your boyfriend’s return home. He had been called away on a last-second mission that you weren’t allowed to know the details of and he was due to return later that evening, just in time for date night. Knowing how tired he would be, you had planned a simple night in so he could relax and be pampered by your love. You’ve only just started the kitchen when there’s a soft knock at the door that pulls you from your cleaning induced stupor. Setting down the rag and cleaning spray you wiped your hands on your jeans as you made for the door. After a quick peep through the looking hole you clicked the lock and swung open the wood to reveal a face you knew very well.

Steve Rogers stood there, smiling lazily with his hands shoved in his pockets. Although you couldn’t deny how he shifted between his feet anxiously. “Hey Steve, everything okay?” He nodded, glancing past you into the apartment before answering. “Yeah, can we talk?”

“Well, that’s something.” You sit back against your couch as you cross your arms in thought. Steve sat nearby in the armchair you found a few months ago, playing with his fingers to avoid your questioning gaze. “Like I said, (Y/N), I really don’t want this to change anything. I just- I couldn’t keep being friends with you if you didn’t know. It wouldn’t be right.” You hummed, thoughts running wild as he waited anxiously for your response. It was an odd situation admittedly, but not all that surprising. Especially considering the conversations you and Bucky already had about the topic. And knowing Steve the way you did, this should have been expected. He was a good person and you knew that he was being honest with you out of the guilt he carried for deceiving you. At least he thought he had.

“Would you want things to change?” You sit forward, propping your head against your hand as you stare at him with wide, innocent eyes. It was an idea you had been brewing since the first mention of this from Bucky, and now seemed as perfect a time as any to put it into action. “What do you mean?” Steve clearly wasn’t expecting your answer to be that, but you could see the curiosity in his eyes when he shifted forward ever so slightly. “Things are different nowadays, Steve. Relationships are different. And I think we can work something out where all of us can be happy.”

He considered your words for a moment before squinting his eyes suspiciously. Was this some kind of test in his faith? If so, he was going to fail. “Like what?” The grin that spread across your lips was captivating, mischievous as you told him of your idea. The more you explained the harder he could feel himself blushing and by the end there was a considerable strain to his pants. His voice is weak when he finally finds the courage to respond. “That sounds… amazing.” Your eyes sparkle as you bite your lip and giggle at him. “Well I’m glad you think so. But in the meantime you’re going to help me clean, our boy deserves a tidy house to return to.” His face burns when you specifically emphasize the word ‘our.’ This was going to be a long day of waiting.

Bucky was exhausted. His joints ached and there was a sizable gash down his right bicep. All he wanted was to be home, surrounded by your warmth and love as he recovered mentally from his mission. Opening the door he was met with the warm smell of your home cooking and boisterous laughter floating from the kitchen. He let his bags fall with a soft thud as he kicked off his boots before following the sounds of voices. You stood at the stove, cooking something that smelled absolutely divine as Steve reclined against the counter next to you. Both of you were giggling at whatever had been said and it makes his heart warm to see the two people he loved most getting on so well together. Steve notices him first, greeting the man with a smile and a wave. “Heya Buck. How’d it go?” You turn away from the pans, walking over to wrap your arms tightly around his torso. He sighs, burning his face into your hair before responding to his friend. “It went to shit, I’m just happy to be home.” You leaned up on your toes to press a soft kiss against his cheek before retreating back to your cooking. With a quick glance at the clock and some mental math you deduce that he has enough time for a shower before you finish. “Why don’t you go clean up, baby? Dinner will be done by then.” He nodded softly, disappearing from the kitchen to do just that. A nice hot shower would help him out more than he was willing to admit right now.

When Bucky emerged, clean and in fresh clothes, the table had already been set with dinner. There were two large servings accompanied by your considerably smaller one, something you had grown used to over the years spent with your boyfriend. He could eat your entire kitchen bare and still be hungry, and that was a good day. So you always made sure to pile his plate high with food, doing the same for Steve. There’s little conversation as the three of you eat peacefully. Steve insists on doing the dishes, sending you and Bucky to the living room so you could choose something to watch on the TV. “You wanna watch Harry Potter again?” Bucky asks, sorting through your sizable DVD collection. You sit on the floor beside him, eyes scanning over the titles available as you thought. “Hm, you’ve seen that like three times now. Oh! What about this one, it’s about three sisters who are witches.” You pull Charmed from the stack, passing it over so he can look at the case. After a moment Bucky nods, handing it back to you with a smile. “Sounds like fun, dollface. Wanna go get some snacks while I set up?” That was one thing you thought was absolutely adorable when it came to Bucky. He had such a passion for learning about new technology and the internet. At first it was surprising but after hearing the stories of his fascination with sci-fi before the war it made more sense to you. With a soft peck to his stubble cheek you disappear back into the kitchen.

Steve is drying his hands, sink empty and dishes placed out on the rack to dry. You carefully step around him, grabbing out a bag of popcorn to microwave while you flitted around gathering other various things for your boys to munch on. Steve catches your eye and gives a curious nod of his head towards the door leading to the living room. You step forward and speak in a low voice so Bucky couldn’t overhear. “Second episode.” He nods in understanding, vanishing out to join your boyfriend while they wait for you to finish your own task. After dumping the bag of hot kernels into a bowl and gathering everything else in your arms you make your way back out to the two men. You unceremoniously drop everything onto the coffee table before plopping down on the sofa next to Bucky. His arm automatically comes to rest around your shoulders as he hits play and the DVD begins. The first episode passes normally, it’s about halfway through the second that Steve shifting on the other side of Bucky catches your attention. His gaze locks on to yours for just a moment and you smirk, tilting your head up to kiss along your lover’s jaw.

Bucky sighs, his hold around your shoulders tightening in warning as you nip softly below his ear. He was more than happy to kiss you stupid, but Steve was right there. He couldn’t do that to him. Not with the tension still running so high between the two men. It just wouldn’t be fair. You raise your hand, placing it gently over his chest as you slowly trail your lips over his neck. Your treading into dangerous territory right now and he can’t help the small whimper that tears from his lips when you latch onto the one sensitive spot where his neck meets his shoulder. There’s a pause where his heart drops as Steve sits forward, shame and guilt coursing through his veins. This wasn’t fair-

All of Bucky’s thoughts short circuit as the other man turns, bending down to copy your actions and smothering his best friend’s neck with soft kisses and bites. His whole body is vibrating, torn between confusion and absolute arousal. Your fingers trace a pace slowly down his abs and brush over the bulge in his sweatpants as Steve’s hand takes the place where yours just was. His breath is coming out in short pants as he fights to understand just what was happening. You give a soft chuckle, hand cupping over his dick and giving a soft squeeze as he groans out. “You gonna let us take care of you honey? Treat you nice the way you deserve?”

He stutters, unable to form a response as you tut softly in his ear. Steve had moved on to sucking deep marks against his skin, pulling back and lavishing his work with tender licks before moving to the next spot. And god, Bucky feels like he could explode. His wide eyes jump back and forth from you, his girlfriend, to Steve, the man he still loves. This had to be a dream, or some kind of sick joke the both of you were playing, right? Bucky’s eyes fought to stay open as you gently slipped your hand down past the elastic of his pants and boxers to finally grab ahold of his cock. You give him a few slow tugs before coming to a stop. When you speak your voice is clear and firm. “Bucky, baby, you want this?”

His eyes slide open as he turns to you in question. You answer him, already knowing what was going through his mind. “You wanna let me n’ Stevie love on you? You deserve it baby boy, and you can have anything you want.” Your soft prodding brings his mind back to reality as the situation crashes over him. He twitches painfully in your hand as he considers his options while Steve continues his journey down Bucky’s neck. After a few moments he gives a soft nod and you grin, tightening your grip around his cock. “Words, use them sweet boy.” He struggles for a moment before finally finding his voice. “Yes, mommy. Want it bad.” The moan Steve lets out against his skin is absolutely sinful. Neither of you were strangers to the kinkier side of the bedroom, it was something Bucky took in stride. He had spent so long being in power, even if someone was telling him what to do he was still fighting and killing. And being able to completely let go and lose himself in your safety and warmth was a welcome release from his chaotic and sometimes gruesome life.

“Okay my boy, we’re gonna treat you so good honey. You know your words?” He nods, head already clouding over as he lets himself go into that state of mind where the only thing that mattered was the pleasure you could bring him. And now Steve too.

“Yes ma’am. Platypus ma’am.” The blonde snorts and you can’t help but chuckle too as he raises a curious brow at you. “It works really well. It’s not something either of us would say normally so it’s very easy to tell something is wrong. But we’ve never had to use it, have we, my sweet boy?” He shakes his head lightly as you hum in approval. Being Bucky’s dom was not something you took lightly, and from your earlier conversations Steve understood the importance of the role as well. Of course he didn’t know the modern terms for everything but he understood the basics, revealing to you that neither of the men were new to the roles you had assumed so easily. You make eye contact with Steve and nod your head down to where your hand is stuffed down Bucky’s pants. “Wanna help out, Captain?” He eagerly reaches down, hand covering your own as Bucky gasps and throws his head against the back of the couch. It had been years for him so Steve let’s you guide him on what to do as he slowly re-acquaints himself with the other man’s glorious cock. Only a few moments later he's taking the lead and you move your hand down to fondle Bucky’s balls. He moans and whines as his hips jut up uncontrollable against your combined hands and their efforts.

Your other hand moves up to gently rest against the back of his neck, turning and guiding his head towards Steve’s awaiting lips. The kiss begins soft and slow but quickly grows heated. Your panties are quickly growing moist as you watch the two make out. It’s sloppy and all tongues and teeth as Bucky lets out little whimpers into Steve’s mouth, who happily swallows them down. You increase your efforts, fingers slowly slipping back to softly rub against the furl of his tight hole. Bucky comes with a sharp cry as you gently press down, hips jerking into Steve’s hand as he sprays ropes of this hot cum against the fabric of his boxers. You both slow to give him a moment to catch his breath, Steve keeping him locked in a now softer kiss as you resumed your ministrations across his neck. Once Bucky has recovered you slide from the couch to stand before the two men.

“Sweet boy, how are you feeling?” His eyes are glossy and his lips are swollen, the front of his sweats stained with his cum. A second passes before he answers. “So good, mommy.” You smile, leaning down to gently brush your hand through his hair. “Do you wanna keep going baby? Or are you too tired?” He shakes his head, face heating up with humiliation as he struggles for words. “Want it, mommy.” You hum, gently tugging on his hair as he gasps and moans. “What do you want, baby? I told you to use your words.” He stutters and his skin is quickly darling into a beautiful scarlet color. “I want… both of you? Both of you, I want you both.” He stumbles over his words, shame burning through his veins as you smile reassuringly at him. “Oh sweet boy, you think you can take it?” He nods insistently and Steve’s chuckle rumbles across his skin. “Alright then. You know what to do, go make yourself look pretty for us on the bed.” Bucky shoots up from the couch and rushes away to do as told. Steve casually raises from the couch and you both take the moment to discuss your next plans. “I know you guys have been pretty intense in the past but you remember what I told you earlier?” He nods, running over your conversation in his mind. You had explained to him the formalities of domination and submissives, gone into detail about how Bucky responded to subspace and how to care for him. Steve straightened up confidently before responding. “Of course. I only want him to feel good.” You smile warmly, gently petting his shoulder with an understanding nod. “I know you do Stevie. You’ll do an amazing job. Ready to go take care of our boy?”

“Lead the way, mommy.” He’s teasing you, in a friendly way of course. You roll your eyes and smirk. “Behave, Captain. We don’t wanna overwhelm Bucky just yet.” He hums in understanding as you lead the way back to the bedroom. Bucky is sitting on his knees in the middle of the bed, stripped nude with his hands clasped patiently behind his back. He truly is a sight to behold. You make your way over to the bed casually, reaching down to trace his jaw. “How do you wanna do this, honey? We wanna take it at your pace.” His eyes flick between the two of you as he tries desperately to find the words needed in the moment. “Want… can I have Steve, mommy? Please?” You tut once again, gripping his soft hair and tugging his hair back harshly. “What did you call him?” You can hear Steve swallow thickly as he watches Bucky’s breath pick up and his cock twitch softly against his abs where it’s straining. Bucky rushes to correct himself. “Captain! I wan’ captain.” You let up on your hold in his hair and softly smooth your hand over his neck. “Good job. Where do you want him, sweet boy?” He’s shaking with humiliation but you know he loves it, loves when you force him to explain exactly what he wants. The burn of shame was delicious, cutting into the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his veins. “I want… can I have his cock, mommy? I wanna feel him inside me, been so long.” Glancing over your shoulder at Steve you take note of his wide pupils and prominent bulge. “I dunno baby. Why don’t you ask your Captain yourself?” The blonde licks his lips, eyes watching Bucky intensely as he steps forward while tugging down the button and fly of his pants. Bucky gently raises his eyes to meet his gaze, face burning as he asks for what he so desperately needed.

“I want your cock, Captain. Can I have it, please?” You watch Steve nod, pulling himself out of his jeans as Bucky practically drooled. “Where do you want it?” He whimpers, too enamored by the arousal thrumming through his veins to reply. You chuckle, coming behind Bucky on the bed so you can wrap your arms around his chest from the back. “You want it in your mouth sweet boy? Or do you want him to fuck that pretty little ass?” They both moan out at your filthy words, Steve slowly jerking himself as Bucky fights for an answer. Both options sounded absolutely heavenly, but he knew he could only have one at a time. So-

“My ass, want it in my ass, Captain.” You coo softly, guiding your boy to gently lean back against your chest as you reach down to spread his legs. Steve places one knee on the bed, leaning down and swallowing Bucky’s soft gasps and moans into his mouth. While the two settled into another sloppy make out session you quickly reached back to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside stand. A short moment later your fingers are covered in slick and pressing softly against the ring of muscle hidden between Bucky’s full cheeks. His moan is absolutely broken as you gently push your finger in, only up to the first knuckle. Slowly you begin to work him open while sucking dark hickeys over the back of his neck. Steve pulls back to shift his weight fully onto the bed, eyes trailing down to watch as Bucky greedily swallowed your fingers. The sight was enough to make him throb painfully. With gently pushes you gradually work your entire finger past his hole before adding a second gently. Tears begin to fall from Bucky’s pretty eyes and Steve makes quick work of licking the salty treat away. You sigh softly, enjoying the show so much that for a moment you almost forgot that you were the one calling the shots. You had a fleeting thought of a super soldier sandwich and happily tucked it away in your mind for later. Tonight was about your baby boy, after all.

“Are you ready honey? Think you’re nice and stretched for Captain’s dick?” He nods feverishly, head tipping back against your shoulder as he grinds down against your fingers. There’s a soft squish as you pull your hand away, wiping your fingers off on his thigh. Steve shuffled closer with cock in hand but doesn’t seem to be in any kind of rush. He takes his time, tracing the fat tip from Bucky’s balls down over his quivering hole. Ever so gently he pushes forward and groans lowly as his tip is accepted easily. You gently skim your hands across your boyfriend’s chest as he quivers, eyes squeezed shut and lip caught tightly between his teeth. He’s whining and rocking down, trying so hard to chase the delicious burn of his Captain’s heavy prick forcing him open. It takes a decent amount of time but finally Steve is able to bottom out, holding himself tightly against Bucky’s hips as he fights to resist the urge to absolutely ruin the man underneath him. He gives a soft thrust and you grin and Bucky’s debauched moan of pure pleasure. “Oh! Please, Captain!” He was always so cute when he got needy and whiny like this. Making eye contact with the other man you reach out to pull him forward by his shirt. Spurred on by the heat of the moment your lips meet and Bucky feels tears burn his eyes at the sight as his cock grows impossibly harder. He had never seen something so sexy before. Steve sets up a slow, deep pace as he continues to keep you locked in a lazy kiss. Your attention is pulled away by the soft cries of your boyfriend as you both look over to his face. He’s absolutely ruined already, tears streaming his face as he writhes against the pleasure. Steve seems to get off on the sight as he picks up his pace which only serves to push Bucky even further into his pleasure filled haze.

“Does that feel good, baby boy? Huh?” You can tell that Bucky is drawing close to his release. His eyes are unfocused as he gasps and moans while his face shines with fat tears. Slipping your hand down between their bodies you grab ahold of him and within three sharing tugs he’s cumming with a loud sob, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Steve’s pace continues for a few more moments before he pulls back with a strangled groan as he begins to fist his cock rapidly. After another moment he also manages to reach his climax, releasing thick spurts over your boyfriend with a soft hiss. A heavy silence fills the room as both men fight to catch their breath while you slyly raise your hand up to your mouth, sucking down the now combined taste of them both. Gently you shift to the side and guide Bucky down onto his back so he can recover before slipping from the bed in search of a wet cloth. When you return from the bathroom the two have curled against each other while Steve peppers small kisses all over the brunette’s face as he mumbles soft confirmations of his love. Bucky is clearly still floating on air as you make quick work of cleaning them both with a gentle hand. Cleaned and thuroughly fucked through you leave them one last time to flick off the light before joining them both in bed. Together in a mess of limbs and warm kisses the three of you fall asleep.

When Bucky wakes up it takes him several long seconds to remember what had happened the night before. The bed is empty but still warm. Carefully he plays his feet on the floor, hissing softly when he stands as a stab of pain cuts through his backside. It all comes crashing down on him then, the memories of being pressed between the two people he loved the most. He pulls on a pair of clean pajamas for the dresser before padding out into the hallway.

There’s soft music playing from your record player, something old that he remembers hearing before the war. He catches sight of you and Steve in the kitchen, giggling and talking quietly as you both made breakfast. He watched as you leant up, kissing the blonde’s cheek before returning to the pancakes you had to flip. He enters the kitchen quietly as he steps behind you to peek over your shoulder. Steve notices and shoots him a smile that makes his stomach flutter.

“Morning Buck. Sleep well?”

He blinks, thinking for a moment before he nods.

“Yeah, the best sleep I’ve had in seventy years.”

He didn’t need to explain why, you both knew. And that was probably the best part of this entire thing, the silent understanding shared between the three of you. You press a soft kiss to his lips and when you pull away Steve takes your place, claiming Bucky’s lips as his own for another sweet peck. Yeah, Bucky though absentmindedly, he could get used to this.

[teyamskxawng]

Say It

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

The rundown: Lo'ak just wants you to swallow your pride and spill all of your desires.

Warnings: 18+ content, language, sprinklings of fluff and stupidity, lowkey no plot just smut, characters are aged up, minors do not interact!! please

WC: 5.0k

A/N: There’s really no excuse for this, it’s about 5% plot and 95% shameless smut before I potentially drop a messy little love triangle fic... My @ is crying out for help lmfao I swear I have solo Neteyam fics in the works!!

Much to your delight, dinner with Lo'ak's family had become a frequent event ever since the two of you started courting. The Sullys captured your heart, and you definitely weren't going to say no to a meal that required no effort on your part, so it was a win-win situation. You were more than grateful for the family's unwavering generosity and found yourself regularly lounging around in the Sullys' tent after the meal was said and done.

Today was no different. As the aromas of the evening's feast lingered in the air, intermingling with the pleasant sounds of easy-going conversation, you felt completely content. 

Further into the tent, Neytiri busied herself with cleaning the remains of dinner–collecting plates and bowls ready for washing. Meanwhile, Kiri assisted Tuk in getting ready for bed by dragging a wet cloth across the girl's lively little face, which somehow (always) ended up smeared with food after mealtimes.

You had to stifle your laughter as you watched Kiri struggle to pluck a morsel of food from one of Tuk's braids. The sight caught Lo'ak's attention, who teasingly nudged you underneath the thick woven throw-over that covered your adjacent legs from your shared spot on the ground.

Sitting across from you were Jake and Neteyam. After every one of your dinner visits, Jake would somehow find a way to bring the three of you together to discuss whatever warrior matters were on his mind that day. And Neytiri would always roll her eyes at her husband's relentless enthusiasm, claiming he wasn't raising an army, but you found it all endearing nonetheless.

Jake was clearly just excited to rant about military tactics and strategies with the three of you, who had all matured into warriors and were no longer clueless little kids. He valued your thoughts and opinions on new training methods, upcoming missions, and strategic planning–topics that were far over your heads before you reached adulthood.

That evening, Jake seemed especially excited about a new gadget he explained he'd get to pick up from the avatar camp the next day. It was called a three-dee-geo something. You honestly had no idea what it was, and you didn't really care. It sounded like something straight out of the RDA's playbook; therefore, you didn't give a shit.

However, Neteyam clearly did. 

He was entirely captivated by his father's description of the strange device's use, nodding along to every word and firing off a series of probably very perceptive questions. Every inquiry received Jake's full attention; it was clear that he respected his son's keen interest in the matter.

You'd assumed that whatever Jake and Neteyam were discussing had to do with the current, or possibly future, affairs of the olo'eyktan. Whatever their discussion, it had nothing to do with you, so your mind began to wander for some semblance of entertainment elsewhere. Unsurprisingly, your gaze drifted toward Lo'ak, who sat beside you, wearing an expression that screamed boredom. And you could definitely fix that. 

A quick scan of the tent assured you that everyone else was preoccupied, lost in their own activities.

As casually as you could, you slid closer to Lo'ak's side and gently placed your hand on his knee underneath your shared covering. With a feather-light touch, your finger traced small circles near the bony joint–a seemingly innocent, unordinary gesture.

But your little game was far from over. With a final little drum of your fingertips on Lo'ak's knee, you subtly let your hand shift, continuing its journey up the expanse of his leg.

Lo'ak managed to maintain his composure with admittedly impressive skill, but a barely perceptible catch in his breath betrayed his unbothered demeanor. Your hand continued its path until it stopped just shy of the edge of his loincloth; only then did Lo'ak shoot a questioning glance your way, trying to decipher precisely what the fuck you were doing through some form of telepathic guesswork.

Feigning innocence, you flashed him a sweet smile. "You okay, Lo'ak?" you asked softly, reveling in your momentary distraction. Obviously, there was no way you would escalate the situation any further underneath your shared blanket. Not with Lo'ak's entire family in the tent and Jake going on and on to Neteyam about something or the other that Norm had said earlier that day. You weren't stupid–you had enough sense to recognize the limits.

But still, you couldn't resist letting your fingers continue leisurely tracing little patterns on Lo'ak's thigh, or allowing your free hand to linger just a tad too long to be considered innocent as you reached out to brush aside a stray braid from his purpling face. It wasn't that cruel.

Clearly, Lo'ak seemed to think otherwise. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two later that he stood up from the spot you two shared on the floor. Pulling you up by your arm, he made a half-hearted excuse about helping you with some non-existent chore at your tent before the day ended. Left with no other option but to play along, you were honestly surprised that nobody even raised an eye at the pair of you as you trailed behind Lo'ak, stepping out of the tent into the cool embrace of nightfall.

Lo'ak began walking in the direction of your tent without uttering a single word, and you had to jog a few paces to catch up with his quick stride. He was walking like he genuinely had somewhere to be, though you knew he didn't. You finally reached his side, trying and failing to bite back your smile as you watched his stony profile. Deciding to play innocent, you remarked, "I didn't know I had chores to finish back at my place." 

Lo'ak kept a straight face for about two seconds before his little facade broke. He let out a snort of laughter, shaking his head at the path in front of him. Besides that, he remained quiet all the way to your tent before hastily entering on his own.

You remained standing there, just outside the threshold, giving yourself a moment to compose yourself for what you knew was coming. Then, trying not to give away just how eager you felt about Lo'ak's impromptu night visit, you bit the inside of your cheek as you peeled back the enclosure to your tent.

The moment you stepped inside, Lo'ak was on you with a searing kiss. The sheer intensity of it all stole the air from your lungs and made you stumble backward a little, but Lo'ak was swift to steady you with a firm hand on your waist. He was literally devouring you, his lips seeming to consume yours entirely, and as much as you were trying to pretend otherwise, you were already so far gone.

Once Lo'ak released your lips, he didn't waste any time laying a trail of fiery kisses from your jawline all the way down to your neck. The sensation of his touch coaxed an unexpectedly loud moan to escape from deep within your throat. You tried to play it off, because you were supposed to be the one leaving him all disoriented–not the other way around. But as Lo'ak's teeth grazed the curve of your collarbone, you found yourself struggling to regain control over your breathing.

With a shaky breathlessness laced in your voice, you managed to ask him, "Eager?" Yet there was no break in Lo'ak's dedication as he continued at that sensitive spot on your neck. Nonchalantly humming an affirmative "mhm" in response to your question, his hands glided up from your waist and along the small of your back, drawing you closer to the warmth of his embrace.

Instinctively, your body arched into him, desperate for more of the intoxicating touch that left your skin tingling in its wake. Then, half-teasingly, half out of genuine curiosity, you asked, "Is it your rut?" 

You knew there was something different about Lo'ak. His actions were notably more assertive and touchy–his hands roaming eagerly and his motions feeling swifter than usual–so it wouldn't have been a shock if he'd confirmed that it was indeed his rut. 

But he didn't. Instead, he offered another low rumble: "nuh-uh," still sincere in its denial but masking any deeper thoughts he might've secretly harbored.

As Lo'ak's hands brushed under the delicate beaded fabric of your top, his fingers skillfully cupping your breasts, you shuddered under the pleasant sensation. His thumbs glided delicately across your nipples while his lips graced your chest with a flurry of soft kisses. Driven by passion, he didn't even bother to remove your top. It was like he was determined to press his lips against any part of your body within his reach. And you were losing your mind trying to suppress your noises of pleasure.

Lo'ak rarely acted this way. The Lo'ak in front of you–silent and all-consuming in the heat of the moment–was a stark contrast from his usual approach. Though he'd never admit it, Lo'ak was usually so soft. He'd still worship your body like he was now, but he'd treat you with gentle tenderness, whispering sweet praises and little declarations of love into the nape of your neck. You liked both manifestations of his affection equally and couldn't imagine favoring one over the other. Regardless of the approach, he still brought you over that edge of ecstasy each time, no matter what.

But at that moment, you honestly weren't even sure if Lo'ak was going to do something or if he was just planning on mercilessly teasing you after your little stunt back at dinner. Just the thought of being left high and dry was too much for you. Embarrassed by the broken noise that echoed from within your soul, you reached out for Lo'ak—your fingernails digging into his arms with a force probably teetering on the edge of pain. You couldn't hold back anymore; curiosity and desire were tugging at your every sense.

"Lo'ak?" Your voice quivered with impatience as you finally broke the silence. "Do you plan on using actual words anytime soon?"

You were tired of his elusive little games–you needed him so badly, and he knew that. With every fiber of your being shouting out for that connection, it felt like nothing was more important than fulfilling your insatiable hunger.

Lo'ak suddenly halted his fervent attention on your chest, and you were kind of really sad about that. Without his electrifying touch, you felt completely bare, an emptiness begging to be filled. Almost instinctively, your hand reached out to draw him close again, yet his following words stopped you in your tracks. It was like he could read your mind. Or he was just equally as horny as you were. "Do you want me to fuck you?" Lo'ak inquired, his voice raw and unrestrained. His dark, dilated pupils seemed to pierce straight into the depths of your soul. Your response came in the form of a frantic nod, any semblance of composure vanishing just like that. Lo'ak's wide grin conveyed his satisfaction.

For a fleeting moment–the briefest of hushed pauses–Lo'ak softened, leaning in and gracing your lips with a gentle kiss that sent waves of warmth radiating throughout your body. The tender playfulness with which he nipped at your bottom lip left you feeling all weak and pliant in his embrace, like you were melting into his touch. He pulled back just enough to gaze at your face, and you didn't even want to know what you looked like. 

Lo'ak's teasing question broke through the haze: "But I'm the one who has to use their words?" His eyes danced with mirth as they met yours.

Your automatic response of "shut up" was practically involuntary, like a knee-jerk reaction. Lo'ak gave you a quizzical look at your continually contradicting words before chuckling softly, shaking his head in bemusement, and hungrily seeking out your lips in another deep kiss—passionate, messy, and so fucking good. Caught up in his intoxicating lips, it felt like there was nothing but the two of you. Everything else had been washed away by the intensity of the desire burning within you. There was no room for thoughts or hesitation, only instinct.

Eager to be even closer to Lo'ak, you sought any friction that would alleviate the intense feeling between your legs. Lo'ak, knowing you inside and out, recognized your need almost instantly. He nestled his leg right between your thighs, giving you the pressure you so desperately sought. As your lips separated from his, your mouth fell open in a silent moan, surrendering to the blissful sensation.

Your fingers eagerly searched for some kind of purchase on Lo'ak's back. Rubbing yourself against the firm muscle of his thigh, you became completely lost in the exquisite buildup of pleasure. It wasn't long before you absentmindedly felt Lo'ak's rigid length pressing into your stomach, followed by another press–the second time a bit more deliberate than the first. "Shit, y/n," Lo'ak groaned, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he dipped his head back in pleasure. Both of your breaths grew shallow and rapid, filling the tent with a symphony of pants and gasps.

"You feel what you do to me?" Lo'ak asked in a low voice, highlighting his words by slowly grinding his hips into you. It was a stupid question because you could obviously feel every inch of him. It'd be impossible not to. It felt like a third arm with the way it was poking into you. But your ability to form any kind of snarky response dissolved as soon as Lo'ak locked your lips together again, his tongue licking in your mouth with practiced ease and stealing away what little breath had returned to your lungs.

The atmosphere inside the tent was electrifying; both of you were entangled in a whirlwind of carnal desire and overwhelming passion. The intimacy between you two intensified with every lingering touch and slide of your bodies, making it feel like time had stopped just for that beautiful moment of raw connection.

Lo'ak tugged you down with him in a single swift motion, your back gently meeting the ground beneath you. He positioned himself above you, the intensity of his gaze sweeping over every inch of your body. His curiosity seemed endless as his hands leisurely explored their way up your legs, his fingers playfully brushing against the tender insides of your thighs.

The tantalizing dance his hands performed was agonizingly teasing; you could feel his touch so close, yet so far from where you truly desired him. Unable to endure it any longer, you called out to him firmly, "Lo'ak."

"Yeah?" he asked in reply, even though he knew damn well that your utterance of his name didn't warrant an actual verbal response. As your heart pounded furiously within your chest, you watched Lo'ak through half-lidded eyes. A tiny smirk adorned his face as he deliberately, teasingly, squeezed the soft flesh of your thighs.

"Come on," you implored him impatiently, reaching to tug at his loincloth in an attempt to speed up the progression of events. However, Lo'ak had other ideas in store for you. He intercepted your advances by grasping your hands with his and then sitting upright on his knees, towering over your prone figure and leaving your body void of his touch.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he said, and you had to resist the urge to kick him in the stomach. Your jaw clenched as you breathed out a heavy, frustrated sigh, your eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. You brought your arm up, covering your face with the crook of your elbow. You hated Lo'ak.

"Stop it," you mumbled into your arm, your voice coming out all muffled from how tight your face was pressed against your skin. Despite the lack of clarity in your words, Lo'ak heard your plea as loud as day, evident by the huff of laughter that escaped his lips. Taking your request literally, he released his grip on your hands and began straightening himself from his position on his knees.

Your heart practically skipped a beat at the thought of being left there; all wound up and unsatisfied. Panicking, you hastily sat up and met Lo'ak's gaze with wide eyes filled with trepidation. "No! Just—" your voice trailed off as soon as his intense stare locked onto yours. It was impossible not to avert your gaze from his piercing eyes; you knew that in this game of wills, you were on the losing end.

As eager as you always were for intimacy with Lo'ak, admitting that aloud turned you into a helpless wreck each time. Lo'ak knew that fact all too well (and secretly really loved it), using it as an opportunity to make you confront your own wishes—encouraging you to become as confident and bold with yourself as you always were when interacting with him.

He always managed to coax out what he wanted to hear from you—unearthing those hidden desires nestled beneath your embarrassment—and tonight would be no different.

With heaving breaths and only the slightest hint of hesitation, you finally mustered the courage to meet his piercing gaze. In an almost inaudible voice, you admitted, "I want you inside me." The heat that immediately surged to your cheeks was impossible to ignore, but your determination didn't waver. And it paid off. Lo'ak's eyes sparkled with delight as he gently chided, "You could've just said that earlier." All the while, he reached for your lower half and skillfully undid the knots holding your loincloth in place. Despite the mounting tension, he continued to move at an irritatingly slow pace, obviously enjoying the opportunity to tease you for being so hard-headed.

As he carried on with his taunting antics, Lo'ak continued, "Didn't have to do all of that back at dinner," his hands lingering on the now loose ties of your loincloth. He seemed to be relishing in the disheveled state you'd found yourself in. You were a mess, even though he barely laid a hand on you. Growing impatient with his antics and eager to hasten his movements, you reached up and removed your top, baring your chest completely before him.

Lo'ak's eyebrows shot up at the sight, pleasantly surprised by your sudden move. It seemed your decision had spurred him into action; there was a noticeable shift in his demeanor as he finally picked up the pace. Without further delay, he pulled off your loincloth and tossed it carelessly somewhere off to the side. His full attention was now focused on you—your body exposed under his intense scrutiny.

The way Lo'ak's eyes roamed over you left no doubt that he was utterly captivated. He studied every inch of you with an almost reverential appreciation: admiring each curve, tracing every stripe with his eyes, lingering over every glowing freckle that adorned your moonlit form. He seemed compelled to commit every minor detail to memory, and the intensity of his gaze was enough to make your heart stop beating.

As Lo'ak's eyes finally returned to meet yours again, he tenderly leaned toward your body. You practically trembled under his touch as his warm breath caressed your skin. His lips began to trace a line up your stomach, its muscles trembling in anticipation. He kissed his way around each of your breasts with such care, and all you could do was stare at the sight of him in awe. It was impossible to look away as you watched him, breathlessly entranced and deeply captivated by love. There was something ineffably beautiful about the way Lo'ak cherished your body, treating it like it was something divine. 

Your eyes closed involuntarily due to the sheer pleasure coursing through you, so it was the sound, rather than the sight, of Lo'ak removing his loincloth that caught your attention. The light rustling of fabric, accompanied by its gentle thud against the floor, ignited something primal within the depths of your being. The sensation intensified when he inched closer and nestled between your thighs, softly parting them further with his own knees. You found yourself teetering on the edge of begging for it.

Fortunately, Lo'ak sensed the urgency just as much as you did. He showed no hesitation or restraint, clearly just as fervent and desperate for that intimate connection as you were yourself. 

Without wasting any time, he aligned himself with your entrance, his eyes closing as he slowly filled you entirely. A soft moan escaped your lips at the sensation of being filled so wholly—the stretch feeling absolutely exquisite, his length fitting just right. It was as if two parts of one soul had longed to reunite and found solace together at last. 

Lo'ak gently leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to your temple, tenderly whispering "so perfect" into the warmth of your flushed skin. And that was the only way you could describe the moment. A few seconds passed before he pulled away, only to get right to it. He withdrew almost entirely before sinking back in with enough force to jolt your entire body.

He continued to fuck you, establishing a steady rhythm as he moved within you. Each calculated thrust left you reeling, a testament to just how much you loved having him. And the love you shared was palpable—your heart pounded fiercely in your chest as if threatening to break free, and you felt like you were going to melt straight through the floor beneath you.

Lo'ak shifted in search of a more advantageous angle to absolutely ruin you. He used an arm to cradle your leg, hitching it higher while simultaneously pressing his chest further into yours—practically folding you in half. The change in position allowed him to pinpoint that sweet bundle of nerves deep within you. With precision. Over and over again. He hit that magical spot repeatedly, each powerful drive into you leaving you gasping for air.

"Lo'ak," you exhaled breathlessly, incapable of forming any semblance of coherent thought as he tightened his unrelenting grip around your waist. 

Lo'ak's very essence seemed to engulf you; within and around you, every fiber of your being cried out for him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible. You had to reach out and cling onto Lo'ak's back to ground yourself to reality. 

But your body quickly approached its limit. You were so close, and that familiar warmth building at your core began cascading outward, threatening to consume every inch of you.

Underneath Lo'ak's strong frame, you felt feather-light and completely limp. It was like all tension had leeched from your muscles, leaving only a wonderful sense of lethargy. Lo'ak's every movement sent pulsating shivers up and down your spine, stealing your breath away. With each whispered curse and quiet moan into the night air, you could sense the end approaching faster than you ever wanted it to.

"Don't stop," you pleaded urgently, your voice a mere whisper of its usual self. "I'm so close." 

Your words seemed to ignite something within Lo'ak as his chest heaved at the sound of them. His already intense efforts intensified further, as if he sought to split you in half with each of his powerful thrusts. As the passion continued to build between you, all that mattered was being there in that moment—raw, intense, and incredibly beautiful. The overwhelming sensation was accompanied by the wet slickness and the obscenely loud noises that intensified and echoed into the night.

It was then that you thanked Eywa–not for the first time–that no close neighbors resided near your home. That would not be an intrusion of privacy anyone would appreciate. That was also the last thing you remembered as your climax approached with lightning speed, everything around you beginning to fade away, leaving behind only an indiscernible haze.

A broken noise rose from your throat and dissolved into nothingness just as quickly as it had appeared. Your vision blurred around the edges, making it impossible to focus on anything other than the beautiful sensations enveloping your body. Every inch of your body tensed at once, except for the rhythmically spasming clench of your walls around Lo'ak's length.

Caught off guard by the sudden intensity enveloping both of you, Lo'ak's thrusts faltered momentarily. He dipped his head forward until it gently rested against yours, his breath coming in rapid gasps at the overwhelming feeling of your tight grip around him as you rode out your high.

"Fuck," was all he could manage to mutter between labored breaths. The warmth of his exhalation tickled your face, sending an army of goosebumps marching down your arms in response. 

Lo'ak gradually ascended, firmly hovering above you as his gaze jumped between your euphoric expression and your bodies' intimate connection. He seemed entirely captivated by the sight before him–it was as if he couldn't get enough of the view. 

With one final slide inside you, he pulled out, his withdrawal accompanied by a resonant wet pop and a shudder-inducing exhale. His hand instinctively reached down to control the base of his shaft, glistening with your shared warmth. Swift and eager strokes filled the air with urgency while Lo'ak's concentrated gaze danced all over your body.

Although you were entirely spent by that point, you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight of him taking in every inch of you. With considerable determination, you lifted your body upward until you met him on your knees, close enough to lightly reach out and brush a hand against his hip for support.

As your other hand intermingled with Lo'ak's at his base, he reciprocated by tenderly gripping your waist—and not a moment too soon—since he was now leaning down to meet your lips in yet another kiss. The sweet union between the two of you was no less passionate for all its languidness—a hazy melding of mouths and sighs that sometimes sidestepped lips entirely in favor of cheeks or chins. But it didn't even matter. You were both completely entranced within your shared exchange of blissful love.

Meanwhile, Lo'ak's flushed cock pulsed within your grasp; each minute stroke, twist, and squeeze of his length only pushed him further toward the edge. 

There was a continuous flow of his arousal gently streaming from his tip. You took the time to gather it up with your thumb and use it to help with the slide of your hand, the sensitivity of your touch causing Lo'ak to release a stream of deep moans. Your smile broadened at the sound. You loved how yielding he always was under your touch.

Lo'ak's reactions captivated you–the clenching of the muscles in his stomach with every labored breath he took, every deft slide of your hand; the way he met your rhythmic pumps with each coordinated thrust of his hips; the way his hand continued to linger at the base of his shaft, his fingers brushing against yours with each stroke. He was practically throbbing in your hand, just begging for release.

A wicked part of you toyed with the idea of getting revenge against Lo'ak–removing your touch and cruelly making him ask you to let him finish. But you ultimately decided to save that devious thought for another day when you'd really need it.

Instead, you concentrated on heightening Lo'ak's pleasure. You increased the tempo of your strokes and focused even more on his sensitive tip, tightening your grasp and flicking your wrist with each upward glide, just the way you knew he liked it. It always made Lo'ak lose his mind, and this time was no different.

His grip on your waist grew firmer; it was clear how much he relished the moment as rough, nearly incomprehensible sentiments tumbled from his lips: "So good, y/n," he said; "Holy shit, you have no idea;" and "Just like that." 

As you leaned in closer, you placed a line of soft kisses along the underside of his jaw. He immediately tilted his head back to give you better access, and a content hum escaped your lips as you smiled against his skin, reveling in how the situation had shifted in your favor. Before long, you felt the warmth of his release running down your clenched fist, accompanied by the sound of Lo'ak's breathy moans of pleasure filling the air.

You lovingly continued to stroke him, guiding him through his climax and ensuring every last drop was expertly coaxed out. It wasn't until Lo'ak had to physically reach out and grab your hand that you finally stopped. "Okay. Alright," he managed to say between breaths, with a slight tremor in his voice that didn't go unnoticed by your keen senses.

"You're shaking, Lo'ak," you pointed out unnecessarily, placing your free hand on his chest to feel the rapid beat of his heart. The smile on your face made it clear that genuine concern wasn't the driving force behind your words. Despite all that, Lo'ak appeared unfazed–or at least was doing a really good job of concealing any embarrassment he might have felt. The corners of his lips twitched up in a grin, and you really should've anticipated his next words. 

"I don't have to remind you how much you were shaking when I was–"

Not allowing him to finish that thought, you quickly placed a firm hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. Shaking your head at him in embarrassed amusement, you replied with feigned annoyance, "You're right; you don't."

Lo'ak's laughter bubbled up despite your efforts to hush him, the breathy sound barely muffled by your palm. Although you pretended to be annoyed, his infectious joy was enough to pull a soft laugh from your chest. As the laughter subsided and your shared amusement dwindled down to comfortable silence, Lo'ak gently maneuvered your hand away from his mouth before you accidentally suffocated him to death. He tenderly held that same hand, cradling it with his firm yet gentle grip.

"One day, you're gonna ask for it without my help," he says with absolute conviction as if it's a fact set in stone.

"No, I'm not," you protest with another shake of your head, your voice filled with stubborn resolve. 

But there he was, looking at you with his big yellow eyes and wide toothy grin. It was slowly crumbling your composure, and deep down, you knew he was right. It took everything inside you to suppress the lovesick grin that threatened to edge its way across your face.

end

[autisticlancemcclain]

pt one

———

Hunk’s phone rings. Loudly. Since he is the pinnacle of grace and benevolence, he spares one hand, eyes still trained firmly on the other hand pressing a screwdriver onto a delicate wire joint to hold it steady, to blindly pat about on his workbench until it closes around the device. He jabs a finger on the screen until the ringing ceases.

“Yah,” he says, not bothering with hellos. He’s busy.

“Handle your person,” Shiro hisses, then immediately hangs up.

Hunk snorts. Someone’s nap was disturbed.

He turns back to his project, sighing as he wraps it up. He doesn’t have long. If he can just solder this last wire, get that last connection in, it’ll be way easier to —

Lance kicks open his door, walking in screaming.

“Hello,” Hunk greets idly. And largely sarcastically, he will admit. Lance continues his wordless yell, vocalizing at the very top of his lungs, muffled only when he throws himself on Hunk’s bed and buries himself in Hunk’s pillow. “Shiro tells me you’re terrorizing people.”

“His skull is fucking solid!” Lance screeches.

Hunk does not need to ask to whom Lance is referring. He does, however, pause what he’s doing immediately, spinning around slowly in his chair with his fingertips pressed together like every eighties cartoon villain. His smile can only really be described as gleeful. Perhaps diabolical if he stretches.

He is entirely unapologetic.

“And what happened this time,” Hunk questions, adopting his very best therapy voice. It must work, because Lance shoots up, face bright candy red, wicked snarl pulling on his lips. When he speaks again his voice is carefully controlled and dripping with rage.

“It is beyond hinting, Kealoha. I have practically laid myself at his feet and begged him to ravish me, and he still does not get it. I am going to fucking wring his neck.”

Hunk hums thoughtfully. “Well, that is probably what it’s going to take.” At Lance’s raised eyebrow, he rushes to clarify — “Throwing yourself at his feet, I mean. Don’t strangle him. At least not before I can see it.”

Lance groans loudly. This time when he flops back on Hunk’s mattress he is more miserable than rageful, like a scolded chihuahua. Hunk considers telling him that and then remembers that he’s quite fond of his limbs where they are.

“I know he likes me,” Lance grumbles. “He’s just a dumbass. Like, yesterday he had to go into a healing pod because I did those leg stretches in front of him and he walked into the wall and broke his nose. And last week he said I smelled good and no straight people say stupid shit like that. And when I flirted with that princess on our last mission I was lowkey worried he was gonna jump her, or something. He went all big bad Galra growly and everything.”

Hunk inclines his head. “This is true.”

It is true. Well, he didn’t know the broken nose thing — although that’s hilarious and he will be sharing that information with the class when prudent — and he hasn’t witnessed many of the specific brands of Keith and Lance dumbassery, since they spend so much time on their own, but he, like, has eyes. Keith wants Lance so bad it’s actually embarrassing. Hunk’s not one to generally agree with Lance, since it’s his God-given right to humble him at any opportunity, but that boy is oblivious unlike any other. He understands that Keith is emotionally stunted due to the ordeal of being orphaned, and to Keith he leaves his highest sympathies, but also Jesus Christ, dude. How many times are you going to be wrought with jealousy before you go oh, duh, I might be in love with this goober.

Maybe Shiro hasn’t had the talk with him yet. Hunk makes a mental note to follow up.

“—it’s just that I don’t understand,” Lance laments.

Hunk blinks back to the conversation, where Lance has clearly taken it upon himself to wax poetic and inspire woe upon himself once more.

Hunk stills. An idea wiggles its delightful little way through his brain. He holds up his phone, pointed at Lance’s prone and desolate form.

God, he loves his brain. He loves meddling. He loves love and life, basically.

“I just,” Lance sighs, and to his endless credit he sounds genuinely torn-up, for all his melodrama. “I wish I could just tell him, I guess. In some way. I wish I could get it through his fool head that he is loved by me particularly in such a way that I want to hold hands and kiss and generally be nuisances of the affectionate kind. You know, romance.”

Hunk hums with great understanding. “I see. And say you were not plagued with chronic anxiety and an unfortunate tendency to glow in your face region if someone so much as insinuates in any capacity that they care about you — what would you say to this paramour of yours?”

Lance tilts his head consideringly. His eyes are big and brown and pouty, like a scorned puppy. It’s adorable, in a pathetic kind of way. Hunk cannot help but pat him delicately on the knee.

“I suppose,” he huffs, “that I would just say it outright. Keith Kogane, you magnanimous dumbass, would it kill you to ask me out like a man. Something like that.”

“You could also ask him out like a man,” Hunk points out.

“Choke and die,” Lance responds, predictably. Hunk pays him again.

Hunk stops the recording and tucks his phone back in his pocket. He will decide how to handle the situation shortly.

…After he makes several copies and distributes them to the team. Obviously. Hunk’s excellent advice and matchmaking skills isn’t free, after all.

Lance whines again. “Why is my life so sick and twisted.”

Hunk chooses against reminding Lance that they are in the very beginning of the process of dismantling the worst tyranny the universe has ever seen, and of all the things in his life to be sick and twisted his dweeby romance is probably not one of them. Because that would be a huge buzzkill, obviously. Instead he delicately and a touch condescendingly pats Lance on the head. Lance leans into the touch, because he is a massive sweetheart and dork and nerd, and Hunk can’t help but smile widely.

“All will work out,” he says ominously. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Blah,” Lance says.

Hunk smiles wider.

[writingbyshiloh]

Smoke Sesh

AN: This was part of the 3k Jordan Li wip but it didn't fit the flow of the fic, which is sad bc I really liked it.

CW: drinking, drugs, smoking weed

WC: 300 (lol)

“Bad?” Jordan asks referring to your frown at the blunt. You forgot they were next to you, the mix of drugs and alcohol making all the voices quiet down and blur together into background noise.

“I don’t mind the music, definitely more of a party vibe.” you reply, mistaking them, thinking they’re asking about the shift in music. A faint uptempo beat and lyrics about how the singer won’t shake it if a man is not paying her bills.

“No, the weed.” Jordan says. You’re glad that they’re thinking clearly.

“Oh yeah, the rolling paper is shit. Want to try?” you ask. The flavour from the paper is mostly for mouth taste, but Jordan doesn’t need to know that.

“Sure.” They shrug.

The logical way would be to simply hand over the joint. But no matter how faded you are, you’re still on a mission. Taking a long deep inhale, you jut your chin to Jordan telling them to lean in. They eagerly comply, pupils blown wide, probably from lust and whatever they used tonight.

You brush your lips gently against theirs, blowing a thin trail of smoke into their mouth. You feel them inhale while their hand comes up to brush your cheek. It's the cheers and screams from your mutual friends that make you snort with laughter, pushing more smoke than intended into Jordan's mouth.

They jerk back, coughing and sputtering. You try to quell your laughter, but can’t stop. You do rub their back, trying to soothe them while the weed convinces you this is the funniest thing you have ever seen.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” you giggle, watching then hunch over and try to breathe normally. “Do you want some water?”

Jordan nods in reply, still too focused on coughing to verbally reply.