#the language of the eye 👁️

[spiritundaunted]

For me, the most fun thing about this clip is not just how she looks at him - which is precious - but the way he looks back at her when she catches his eye- “well, hello!” 🥰

[junrandot]

babe kazuki's in the gala i think you need to start mentally preparing yourself rn

he puts his silly lil eyeliner on and wears his silly lil studded leather jacket and belt and pants and i

[harmoonix]

ᨵׁׅᝯׁꫀׁׅܻɑׁׅ֮ꪀׁׅ꯱ׁׅ֒ꪱׁׅժׁׅ݊ꫀׁׅܻ

(Astrology Observations)

- Aquarius Risings are good at communicating in love thanks to their Virgo/Leo axis of 7th and 8th house signs, they may also crave a lot of physical touch

- Aqua/Scorpio/Capricorn Risings can have Sirene eyes, and if you have Pluto - Asc aspects you have the same thing

- Virgo/Cancer and Taurus Risings on the other side can have doe/deer eyes shape, they really look like Bambie (the deer)

- Sun aspecting Chiron natives happens to have other people throwing their insecurities on them, like your friend feels insecure and immediately throws that energy on you

- Chiron in the 7th house is both a curse and a blessing, sometimes you met hurt people already sometimes you're the one who hurts or heals them

- Chiron in the 12th house can show your subconscious is in pain, and can mostly be from your past life, does it happens to have a lot of deja-vu?

- Mercury in the 7th house are so good at talking and expressing their love language. I really love how comfortable they can get around people

- Mars in the 11th house sometimes creates a "love-hate relationship" between you and your friends, even conflicts can rise up

- Venus in Aquarius Degrees (11°, 23°) can really have an outstanding fashion style because of the uniqueness degrees of Aquarius energy

- Mercury at 8°, 20° degrees they can literally talk about every taboo topics without any fear of judgement. Their talk is freely open to everything

- Pisces Sun/Venus/Moons/Rising can get influenced more easier than others and I can say is that because of their neptunian energy

- Jupiter Dominant natives are wise from a young age, they perceive things differently than other people. They're also very lucky in their life path

- Venus in Fire Signs loves to be chased in love. Like that's a way to show you're interested in them, sometimes they can play hard to get too

- Earth Moons are the most stable people I know both physically and mentally, their are so strong in both things but sometimes they can have a hard time to balance those things out

- The Ethereal energy of a Virgo Moon is so naturally beautiful, they are the best supporters of people. So charming, calm and kind

- Uranus in the 2nd house can end up buying things they never expected before, for example you never expect to buy a phone you liked before

- Venus conjunct Pluto is so "Obsessed" vibes, people get so obsessed with them very easily, and you know they are damn loyal to you

- Pisces Moons & Moon in the 12th house have an energy like they are sometimes aware of what happens around them and sometimes they are not

- Neptune & Jupiter/Uranus in the 12th house are so spiritually connected with their subconscious, they can sense entities and often experience goosebumps (Spirit Signal)

- South Node in the 9th house can indicate that in a past life you gave your life for religion/God/etc.. and you need to focus more on yourself in this one especially at expressing yourself

- Sun & Lilith aspects are the most rebellious people you'll met, but they also have a side magnetism to them that makes people to like them

- Guys imagine having a man who wants a traditional wife/spouse but you don't have any 4th house placements like 👁️👄👁️ (Traditional guys scare the sht out of me like go away)

- Sagittarius Sun/Moon/Rising/Mars natives are so wild. Like they can be the wildest people you'll met through your life and do the most craziest things with

- If you have an empty 7th house just look at its ruler everytime you want to discover more about your future spouse (specific person)

For example if you have 7H in Taurus look at your Venus. 7H in Aquarius look at both Saturn and Uranus as your 7th house rulers

- Mars at Virgo Degrees (6°. 18°) have a good looking/attractive waist. Virgo rules upon that body part and it tells you about your attractiveness

- This is just between us but Mercury - Pluto aspects can be good at lying, if someone has prominent or strong aspects between those they are good liars

- Saturn in the 6th house natives are both productive and tired in the same way. Like you try to be productive or to work and suddenly you get tired.. damn

- I have Saturn quincunx Venus and honestly the energy it feels like having Saturn opposite Venus is just so hard sometimes to fall in love especially if you have questions about a specific person

- Asteroid Juno (3) sextile/trine/conjunct Mars are looking for a really hot, fierce, sparkling relationship like they want everything that's intense

- My asteroid Groom (5129) is at 1° (Aries Degrees family, 1°, 13°, 25°) and I read more about those degrees and I find that the spouse can have some dominant, confident, powerful, leader traits basically describing an Aries

- 2nd house placements are always hungry or thinking about food. Especially Sun/Moon/Venus in the 2nd house are really power hungry

- Sometimes Pluto/Neptune in the 6th house can indicate problems with health and that you'll need to prioritize your health

- Moon in the 8th house can indicate that in general the women in your family could've have suffered a lot, like your mother/grandmother/grand-grand mother etc..

- Water signs in the 5th house can indicate a passion/talent towards swimming/surfing 🌊

- Sagittarius/Jupiter in the 11th house can indicate that you make friends easily or just connecting with people easily

- In the vedic chart Chitra is my Nakshatra (2nd Pada) if you have the same star in the vedic chart is like a combination between the materialistic and spiritual world and you need to find a balance in between (What I love about this is that Chitra's symbol is a shell 🐚 and I love shells with all my life)

- Neptune in the 7th house natives can create an illusion about their partners, like creating something that is not real about them, sometimes even fake scenarios

- Gosh people with the 10th house placements really focus mostly in their lives on their career/job/career path like this is so important for them. They really want to succeed

- Venus conjunct Mars or Venus and Mars in the same house makes the native to more passionate towards the lovers in their lives, they're full of surprises

- Neptune square/opposite Moon cannot be aware of their spiritual side or aware of their intuition, but they are so powerful when they search more about it

- Lilith in Water Signs really have beautiful eyes, you will get lost in their ocean eyes 👀, just like a sirene in her natural habitat

With all the love and peace have a good day today

🐚 Harmoonix 🐚

[bi-writes]

hello 🐝!! hope ur doing well, luv!

was thinking about bff!roommate!simon loving readers food. the reader starts baking and cooking for fun and uses simon as a test subject to rate the food LOL. reader's food slowly becoming one of his comfort things and maybe him risking cooking for/with them

just pureeee fluff!!

had this idea while looking at my burnt brownies LMFAO

wish ya the best ⚡

this is so sweet. this came out much angst-ier than i intended lol.

more bff!roommate!simon (part 7/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, simon is big 👁️👁️, the mask doesn't come off, aNgSt and LoNgInG

it's one of the first dinners that simon spends with you in your new apartment. he has never lived in a home that he didn't hate coming back to.

when he was a child, he feared his father. when he was an adult, he feared the loneliness and the quiet; it left room for the thoughts in his head to manifest and grow claws. but now, he found himself in the back of a car after deployment without dread in his chest.

when he steps into the foyer, the apartment is warm. there is no dust on the forgotten, bare counters. there is no screaming, no crying, no hushed voices and angry eyes. there is a warm yellow glow throughout the apartment; the lights you have put up since he left cast such a comforting shadow across the inviting furniture, the pictures you've hung on the wall are happy, the books you've put away and the candles you've lit are familiar.

and there's a smell. something smells so good. he closes the door behind him and locks it, setting his bag down. he follows the sounds coming from the kitchen. there's the sound of something simmering, cutlery hitting a wooden cutting board.

when he emerges into the kitchen, something in his chest constricts. you've got your bottom lip between your teeth as you concentrate on peeling some potatoes, trying to be careful not to nick the tip of your finger. there's a pot on the stove, a low fire lit as something cooks. there's more candles, a glass of wine there, a neat mess of vegetable scraps and ingredients.

he doesn't know what to call it; the taste of the word in his mouth sounds something like home.

"simon!"

and there's your smile. a bright, shimmering thing that comes over your face, relief in those gorgeous eyes and glossiness in your gaze as you hold back the excited tears you're overwhelmed with. you drop the knife you were using, hurrying around the counter to greet him, and simon grunts as your arms fling around his neck, bringing him down to your level as you hug him tight. there it is again--something tight and mean in his chest, something that feels good but something he can't say out loud.

"y-you're home--" you pull back gently. "you're back."

you smile, and simon catches the tear that escapes before it can run down your cheek.

"w-welcome home," you whisper, and you mean it, and his breath is stuck in his throat because something was waiting for him here, and it is you, and you are perfect.

"'ello, luv," he murmurs. "somethin' smells nice."

"yeah, i--" you sniffle, taking his arm and bringing him into the kitchen. simon is still fully dressed in his gear, sturdy jeans with holsters fastened around his thighs, a thick belt, a tactical vest tight around his broad torso. you pick up a tasting spoon, dipping it into the stew and holding it up to him. "tell me how it tastes. i'm...trying something new."

simon meets your eyes from under the mask before he lifts up the fabric slightly. you don't pay attention to the corrugated skin you see, the discoloration; you just smile and feed him the spoon.

he closes his eyes gently. he has been living on ready-made meals in the field and the food prepared in the mess halls. the food isn't bad--but it isn't made like this. it doesn't come with an angel feeding it, it doesn't come with an apartment filled with peace, it wasn't made with that unspoken thing that is shared between the walls of this place.

it tastes wonderful. it's warm, and it sits so nice in his stomach, and simon wants more immediately.

"still needs some time, got to get the potatoes done," you say, as if reading his mind. "it'll give you some time to wash up."

and when he comes back, you're still there. he blinks; this isn't a dream. you're still in the kitchen, asking him how he's feeling, your hair in front of your eyes as you pick up plates and bowls and more things you must have picked up when he was gone--what the fuck is going on?

who's house am i in?

what kind of fucking dream is this?

when do i wake up--when does this all get taken away from me? because i don't fuckin' deserve this--ghosts don't eat--ghosts don't get to live, and they don't get to share these memories, and they don't get to fall in lo--

"simon," you say softly, putting a small bowl into his gloved hands. his dark eyes fall, focusing on the curve of your lips and the softness of your skin and the way you feel in front of him. "ready to eat?"

yes. yes, yes, yes--

simon has been waiting all his for this feeling. the domesticity of home, the familiarity of not being alone, the serenity in something not unknown. and this would not last--he knows this deep in his bones. dead men do not get to savor these moments; he knows his demon will come to collect the time he's stolen, but for now, he will sit at the table he shares with you, drink in the warmth that you bring. he will listen to the gentleness of your voice, and he will fight tears one day in the field trying to remember exactly how you sound at this exact moment in time.

and he will try again to keep this feeling. he will pick a day that you work, a day when you are gone, and he will try and recreate the homecoming you gave him. he will fuck it up--of course he will, because simon was never taught how to love someone else like this. but somehow, he knows you won't care.

you will look at him the way you're looking at him now--simon puts the stars in the sky, the moon into orbit, gravity in motion, he brings the heat of the sun and the snow in the winter, and maybe he doesn't do this with the world you live in, but he does it with whatever lives inside of you, and it's enough for you to know that this is all that matters.

his hand along your thigh, his eyes on yours, the thing that is stuck between his teeth that he won't say but that you can feel in the air.

the thing between you that follows you, even when you go to bed that night in separate rooms. the thing that keeps you up at night knowing he is just across the hall, that he's right there, he's right fucking there--

he's right there.

so why can't i just have him?

[sea-lanterns]

BRO FEED ME SOME HICKEY PRANK ON DOM MIKO AND ARLECHINO🤡👁️👄👁️

IN CELEBRATION OF ARLECCHINO BEING LEAKED I WILL ANSWER THIS :D

love me some dominant, possessive women 🩷

nsfw under the cut—————————

oh, you picked the wrong pair of women to prank like this. miko and arlecchino are already possessive enough, yet you just had to push their buttons? tsk tsk, what a naughty partner you were, now you know what’s coming now…

miko is nasty. the moment she sees your neck covered in bruises and marks not left by her, she gets understandably mad. ears twitching with annoyance as her tail swishes back and forth in an angry motion that has you gulping.

electricity crackles in the air, the guuji’s nails are gripping the chair she was holding and puncturing the leather with just her strength alone. she pants, eyes downcast as the purple in her eyes spark with life. “those aren’t mine…” she purrs lowly, glaring up at you beneath half lidded eyes. “my marks are darker…”

the atmosphere grows tense as she strolls right over, her hands that almost broke the leather seat clasping your chin and forcing you to look at her. unbearable eye contact between you and your girlfriend, as she leans down and makes sure to give you a snarky smile hidden between her lips. “you let someone else mark you up, baby? that’s not very nice…”

her feminine and doting voice did not match her body language at all as the grip on your jaw tightens and pushes you over to a wall, opening her mouth as wide as she could and revealing the pointy canine teeth you always craved on top of you. strings of saliva connecting her pretty pink tongue to her teeth as she leans in and bites your neck with sudden force. the edges of her teeth probing your skin while the warm embers of her tongue swipe over the fake marks you put on yourself to lick away the makeup.

she knew it.

smirking to herself, miko allows her tongue to rub away the marks one by one, replacing them with her own, darker, more deeper bites that had you squirming and clawing her back for more…

arlecchino is wicked. she’s a sadist through and through and knows the bruises on your shoulders are nothing short but foolery. no matter how good you could forge it, arlecchino could always tell. they weren’t real.

“…come here.”

her tone is firm, gloved finger beckoning you over with one, alluring, waggle. she was sitting in her chair lazily with one foot resting on her knee, setting the wine goblet she held down on the tabletop. “don’t be afraid, come here.”

at her sharpened voice, you flinched and hurried over to where she was seated, two feet away from where she sat. “…did you do this?” she smirks tauntingly, poking a finger at your little make up job. “it’s fake, i can tell.”

you gulped at her acute sense of sight and she beckons you to come closer, pointing down at her lap before glaring at you.

“sit.”

like a dog, you followed obediently. plopping down on the knave’s lap and gasping when she suddenly lunged forward, grabbing onto your neck to squeeze ever so slightly.

“ah—! ghk—!”

you choked on your own surprise, your girlfriend’s thumb running over one of the marks and rubbing it off with satisfaction. her face curled up into that of a grin, as she put her thumb in her mouth to lick the evidence off her glove. “you can’t fool me, doll…” arlecchino murmurs, chuckling darkly at your shocked expression. “here, i’ll show you what a real mark is like.”

and then she lunged forward, sinking her teeth against your collarbone and pulling the strap of your top down, slowly sucking her way lower until she was able to taste breast…

[captainfern]

hear me out 🫵🤠✋ what about a Price one-shot where Price takes the readers virginity because that’s what the reader wants and the reader squirts all over his fingers and he wants to see more of that.

idk, it’s something i’ve been thinking about for a while since I saw smth about TF-141 nsfw canons or smth where the reader squirts so yeah. 🥹🙌

About A Girl

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“About A Girl” by Nirvana]

[18+]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

• summary - price takes your virginity lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 1.8k • warnings - fem!reader, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected piv, uh a bit of 💦, praise, price whimpers a lot in this i just realised lmao, strong language

✿ *rubs hands together* hearing you out?? love, i’m all ears. me rn:👂👁️👅👁️👂

this starts really abruptly lol. no soft launch for this porn 😔☝️

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

“I want you to take my virginity.”

Those seven words… you’re pretty sure changed your life forever.

You said that twenty minutes ago. Now, you were lying across Price’s bed, your clothes stripped completely from your body as Price, his shirt missing but pants still on, worked a thick finger into you.

“Shh, shh, I know, darling,” Price shushed you, dragging his finger in and out of your cunt. “You’re doing so well for me. Being so good.”

You breathed deeply, the sting inside you soothing as he stroked your inner walls. You were tight around the single digit, sucking it in with lewd noises that made your stomach flip in embarrassment.

After a moment, you felt the stretch increase as he pushed another finger into your dripping cunt. You writhed against his bed, arching your back with a moan. He was placing kisses along your belly and thighs as he pushed two fingers in and out.

“There you go, that’s it,” Price whispered, watching his fingers moving inside you. “Such a good girl. Let this pretty cunt take another one. Just two, darling.”

His pace increased. You moaned, pleasure overriding the discomfort. You panted, skin shining with perspiration as Price’s two fingers thrusted into you. They were stretching out the tight heat of you, slamming against that gummy spot within that had you jerking your hips to meet the movement of his hand.

“Price…” You whispered a moan of his name, and it made him groan from his position near your legs.

He humped against the bed momentarily, trying to alleviate the pressure built stiffly in his cargo pants. He stopped, huffing deep breaths, continuing to thrust his fingers in and out of your sopping hole.

“So good for me,” Price whispered, nipping at the plush skin of your hip. “Can… can you take another one?”

You know it’ll hurt like a bitch, but you still nodded anyway. Much to Price’s delight: who moaned, deep and rich, and it made your cunt pulse around his fingers.

“Fuck, such a good girl, love. My good girl, my pretty girl,” Price said, his praise distracting you as he added a third finger. You choked on a whimper, feeling so full. “Gotta stretch you out, nice and good. Gotta make sure my cock is gonna fit in this pretty cunt, darling.” Price whispered, watching his three fingers plunge in and out of you.

You could feel yourself dripping; arousal pooling down the bare curve of your arse, smearing across the soft skin of your inner thighs. You were so wet for him, for Price. And he loved it; loved the way droplets rolled across his wrists, how his entire hand was slick and wet. His cock ached painfully in his cargos.

You’d masturbated before, so the appearance of a tight spiral in your lower belly was not strange. However, something felt different. It was approaching fast, your cunt fluttering and pulsing around his three fingers. Your moans were becoming more desperate, more whiney as you hurtled towards the edge.

Price maintained rhythm, fucking his fingers into you and making you squirm.

“So good,” Price practically whimpered, watching you, eyes raking down your naked form. “So good for me. Such a good, wet cunt. Bloody dripping.”

“Price, fuck—” You moaned, his fingers not missing a beat, drawing continuous wet sounds from your cunt. Your arousal was excessive, to say the least.

Price hummed. “Gonna cum, darling? Go on, then. Wanna feel you squeeze my fingers, nice and good. Cum all over my fingers, pretty girl.”

The spiral inside of you snapped.

And when you came with a moan and a shiver and a jolt of your legs, you also felt wet.

A gush of your arousal flooded out around his fingers, a small amount squirting out onto his chest. He halted the movements of his fingers, shocked at the way small droplets of your milky arousal splattered across his bare torso.

You panted, sitting up on your elbows and looking at him, eyes widening as you took in the sight of his drenched arm and sparkling-wet chest. You felt your face burn as he met your gaze, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.

“Bloody hell…” Price looked at you, groaning beneath his breath as he clambered off the bed.

You were so fucking embarrassed— your cunt was still pulsing and you could feel how wet you were. How wet the sheets beneath you were. You wanted to cry out of sheer humiliation, before the sound of Price’s cargos hitting the floor got your attention.

Price crawled back onto the bed, hovering over you. His hard cock pressed to your bare thigh, and you whimpered as you dropped onto your back once more.

“Price…” You mumbled, embarrassment coursing through you as you tried to cover your face with your arms.

He stopped you, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Don’t hide from me.”

“That was so fucking embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Price queried as the warm head of his cock settled between your plush thighs. “How?”

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his cockhead pressing against your sopping folds. “I… I— oh my god— made such a mess.”

Price hummed a chuckle. “Love, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’ve never done that before. I didn’t know—”

Price shushed you with a deep kiss, licking into your mouth. You hummed, fingers wrapping in his hair as his tongue drew pitched moans from the back of your throat.

Pulling apart, connected by a thin line of saliva for just a second, Price stared down at you, cock still nestled between your thighs, touching your core gently.

“Nothing to be embarrassed of,” Price assured you. “Matter’a fact, I wanna see you do it again.”

He grabbed the base of his cock, running it up and down your soaked slit. You trembled beneath him, breathing deeply, your body burning up.

“Want you to make even more mess,” Price whispered. “Want you to make a mess all over my cock, okay, pretty girl?”

You nodded frantically, suddenly no longer embarrassed.

In your defense, your captain was about to fuck you, and your brain was completely focused on that.

Price took a deep breath as he settled his cock at your entrance, rubbing and squeezing the flesh of your thighs supportively.

“You sure about this?”

“Yes, oh my— just, please, Price.”

“Okay, okay,” He shook his head, bemused. “But… but if it hurts, I’ll stop, understand?”

“Understood.” You really sounded like a soldier then.

With a shuddered exhale, Price gently pushed into you, cock breaching your dripping entrance and inching inside. You mewled loudly, arching your back and skimming your nails down the broad expanse of Price’s shoulders. Your eyes screwed shut as Price pushed in, inch by inch. A stinging pain, sharp and pressured, ebbed somewhere inside of you— but it didn’t last. After a moment, Price was nestled deep inside you, and the pain was subsiding as he moved his hand to stroke your tingling clit.

Price stilled himself, breathing heavy. He made a couple of low noises beneath his breath, quiet grunts, before he placed kisses across your face.

“Perfect, prefect girl,” he whispered, kissing your lips. “Taking it so well. Being such a good girl, all for me, eh?”

He sucked a bruise to your jaw as he slowly pulled out and then pushed in at the same slow speed. You writhed beneath him, pain gone as pleasure overtook. His cock slid against your slick gummy walls and it made you call out— call out his name, his rank.

“That’s it, good girl. Such a good cunt. So wet ‘n so… fucking… tight,” Price gritted, pace picking up. “My pretty girl… who’s making you feel good?”

You whined at him, praise soaking you even more. You let your hands flex over the strong muscles of his shoulder blades.

“You, Price—!” You moaned just as he pulled out and slammed right back in.

“That’s right,” Price growled, hips meeting yours as he began fucking you into the mattress. “Thats fucking right, love. S’me making you feel good, yeah? S’me making you squirt and make a mess.”

You began to feel another orgasm build within the confines of your abdomen. You were arching off the bed, breasts rubbing against his chest. You scraped your nails down his back, anchoring yourself to him as he continued to fuck his cock in and out of you. Each pull dragged ragged noises from your mouth, which he took the time to capture in his own mouth, kissing you hard.

That same hot feeling was overtaking you, cunt spasming around his cock and pressure building somewhere inside you. It was making you whine, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you screwed them shut.

“Uh-uh, darling, open those pretty eyes,” Price breathed, voice strained. “Wanna… huh, fuck— wanna see you when you cum ‘round my cock.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his, just as the pressure inside you came to a crescendo.

“Make a mess, please, come on.” Price whimpered, desperate, as he slammed into you.

You did.

When you came with an airy, fucked-out moan of his name, you felt that same wet rush— a pleasurable warmth squirting from you for the second time that night, splattering his lower abdomen, drenching his cock and pelvis.

Price moaned.

“F-fuck, thaaat’s it. Good girl, darling.” He uttered, breathing out more moans as he continued his movements.

He shifted his gaze from your face, to where your cunt was drooling around him, making obscene squelching noises that filled the room alongside the slapping of skin, his grunting moans, and your overstimulated whimpers.

“I know, pretty girl, I know, almost there,” Price kissed your face as you whimpered, clinging to him. “Such a tight, wet cunt. Not gonna— fucking Christ— not gonna last.”

And he didn’t last.

With a guttural groan, he pulled out and came across your tummy. He pumped himself through it, and you watched as he titled his head back, groaning through gritted teeth. After a few moments, he leaned forward slightly, whimpering as he tugged at himself, the last few drops of his spend hitting your navel.

He then collapsed onto you, and you giggled when he lay his entire body atop yours. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, placing hot kisses to the skin while you wrapped your arms around him, breathing him in.

“You alright?” He asked you, muffled against your shoulder.

You laughed. “I’m good. That… that was good.”

He laughed into your shoulder too. “It was.”

A few beats passed before he begrudgingly dragged himself off of you. He kneeled beside you on the bed, running a finger down your stomach and smearing his seed across your skin.

“You made a right mess, didn’t you, love?” Price whispered, nodding at the mixture of yours and his cum splattered across the bedsheets. Not to mention the amount on both you and him.

“S’your fault.” You said simply.

He smiled. He couldn’t argue with that.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

[kitten4sannie]

Hi congrats on 3k :)

Soo I’ve been thinking about sub Mingi quite a bit lately and if we’re going to get spooky lol what if he’s a clingy ghost that haunts and constantly comes around when he wants your attention and body? ;) Picture this: it’s 3 am and you wake up out of your sleep to see him gingerly pulling at your sleep shorts with a cute lil pout <3 He’s whining and pleading, “Y/N, can you please fuck me? I’m so lonely </3”

hehe thank you ^-^ 💞 ALSO EXCUSE YOUUU – NEEDY ?? SUB?? GHOST?? MINGI ???? 👁️👄👁️ i’m literally on my knees for you and this concept anonnie rjwjhw i hope i can deliver something worthy of this thot provoking ask <33

⛧ seance smutfest ⛧

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: pouty subby baby boy mingi :((, big dick mingi, also he’s a ghost so he has ghost? features? lol, dom! reader, reader’s kinda mean ngl jssjs, so many pet names omg, some possessive language, light degradation, teasing, begging, praise, some pet play dynamics (everyone lets say thank you to @lemonhongjoong for making puppy ghost min a thing <3), drooling, brief mutual masturbation, grinding, cum eating, brief oral (receiving), doggy style obv, overstim, multiple creampies

Your roommates tend to keep to themselves these days — most notably when the sun goes down. They can’t bring themselves to tell one another about the things they’ve been experiencing without sounding like they’re crazy.

How could they possibly explain that they feel like they’re being watched when they’re taking a shower and laying alone in their beds? That they hear their names being whispered into their ears just as their eyelids grow heavy enough for them to drift off to sleep? How could they possibly let anyone know about the howls and wails they hear coming from somewhere in the house late at night?

How could you tell them that it had one of the most complicated, yet simplest answers? The answer being the (very needy) apparition that had appeared in your room for the third time that week. At 3 am, no less. A groan tumbled out of your dry throat as you tried to blink away the darkness and make out the figure that hovered above you.

“Y/N…wake up, so you can fuck me…” he whispered in a deep, breathy voice, the edges of his words thick with desire.

“You can’t keep doing this, Mingi…” you croaked, feeling the odd heaviness and simultaneous lightness of his body pressing into yours.

The ghost frowned, his head lowering slightly. “But I need you.”

You grimaced, your cheeks growing warm. “I need sleep.”

He whimpered, his fingers already pulling down your sleep shorts past your hips, looking down at you with an intense, unwavering gaze, his bluish plump lips forming a signature pout. You could already feel his heavy cock pressing into the side of your thigh. “Y/N, please. I’m so lonely.”

The fire inside you was lit — just like that. This was why you were never able to say no to him. The ghostly brat was so good at begging for your attention and body, you couldn’t possibly deny him. Though, he would have to work for it.

“If you want me so bad,” you began somewhat mockingly, feeling his cold hands settle on your hips for a moment and squeeze them slightly, a trail of goosebumps immediately forming where he touched you. “Then you’ll just have to get off in front of me first, ghostie.”

“D-don’t call me that,” Mingi murmured, blowing a few strands of whitish blond hair out of his eyes, biting his lip at your proposition. He would’ve blushed if he were still alive. “…Call me yours…”

“You know what, Mingi?”

“What?” he whined, his head drooping more, his bottom lip jutting out just enough to make you fall further underneath his spell, though you were determined to get the most out of this paranormal encounter.

Giggling softly at his reaction, you took his hands and slowly ran them up along your curves, up and under your hoodie until they were just underneath your breasts, feeling his fingers press slightly into your ribcage. He stared hard at you in the darkness, the whites of his eyes practically glowing as you gazed back at them with your own half-closed ones. “I’ll call you mine as soon as you cum for me. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you play with your cock?”

Mingi throbbed inside his sweatpants as he pulled at the drawstrings, letting them fall until his long, veiny cock sprung out and curved up into his lower abdomen.

You smiled at the sight of it, your eyes trailing his thick length until you settled on the flushed, pronounced tip. “That’s a good boy.”

Mingi bit back a moan, his cock twitching on its own, the head leaving a strand of pre-cum behind when it made contact with his lower abdomen.

Sighing softly, you couldn’t help but give in and stroke your ego a little. “That’s all it takes, huh, Min? A little praise and you’re ready to spill your load for me?”

“Yeah, it makes me feel really good,” he answered in an oddly shy manner, despite his hand already closing around the base of his cock and jerking upwards, another thick bead of pre-cum oozing out of the bluish tip. “Fuck, I need you so bad."

You licked your lips, letting your hand slip down into your panties to rub your wetness around. “What do you need exactly, ghost boy? Enlighten me.”

“Need to be inside you. Need to fuck your cunt. Feel it squeeze around me when I fill you up. And, fuck–” He groaned harshly, his eyes centered on your moving hand, whimpering at the sounds of your slick, his wrist beginning to hurt from how roughly he was pleasuring himself. "Nnngh, does it feel good, Y/N? Knowing I’m gonna cum just for you?”

“It feels really good, Min,” you breathed out, rubbing your clit in between two fingers, tilting your head to the side, some of your hair falling into your eyes. “But, you know what would feel even better?”

“What?” he inquired as soon as the words left your mouth, his own mouth starting to hang open to let drool drip out, his cock throbbing away.

“If you rubbed your cock on my cunt, Minnie.” You smiled at the mess he was already becoming for you, lowering your panties just enough so that he could make out the slick glistening on your folds. “Do you want that?”

An airy whine left Mingi’s lips, his hips already starting to move on their own, practically using his hand as a fleshlight. “Yes, please.”

“So obedient,” You giggled, reaching out to run your index finger up along his stiff length, watching it twitch a bit once you swiped your finger up and over his cockhead. “And so sensitive. How cute.”

Mingi seriously would’ve turned into a tomato at this point, but you didn’t have to know that. He simply pouted and rutted himself against your upper thigh, getting his pre-cum all over it, pleading for you until you eventually tossed your panties to the side and spread your thighs apart for him.

“Get to work, Min,” you purred, running your fingers through his shaggy hair.

Like a dog hearing the dinner bell, he sprung into action, resting his hands near either side of your head, his chilled body flush against your heated one, his cock already rubbing deliciously along your cunt, more pre-cum leaking out of the tip. “Feels so good, so good, so good–”

“Aww, look at you, getting all worked up for me. What a needy boy.”

“Need you so bad,” he reassured, blowing a few bangs out of his eyesight. “Wanna fill you up.”

Wiping away a bit a sweat from your forehead, you couldn’t help but to let out a few breathy moans, the tip of the ghost’s thick cockhead sliding against your clit in a way that sent electricity through the rest of your body. “Cum for me and i’ll let you inside, Min, I promise…”

Mingi suddenly pushed himself up and grabbed onto your hips, thrusting forward so quickly, the springs in the mattress began to creak underneath the both of you, your combined slick allowing him to steadily bring you to your peak. “Gonna…cum…for you, Y/N…”

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that,” you praised breathily, feeling your lower half getting lifted up from how desperately he began to fuck himself on your wet cunt, your head dropping back when your high took over you, barely able to listen to all of the whiny moans that began to leave Mingi’s drooling mouth. “Such a good boy, my good boy…”

“Your–nnnngh–good boy,” Mingi echoed weakly, his body shuddering, his fingers leaving bruises in the flesh of your hips, holding you still as he left spurt after spurt of his release on your already dripping cunt and lower abdomen.

Once Mingi lowered your body back down on the bed, you ran your fingers through the warm liquid he left behind, giggling softy at the sound of his heavy panting and the sight of his pretty glistening lips when he licked his cum off of your fingers without you having to ask, his spit dripping down them. “What a naughty boy you are.”

“Just for you,” he nodded, trying to lick up the saliva that had dripped down his chin.

“Oh, sweetheart, you want to fuck me so bad, you’re going to drool all over yourself?” Your eyes sharpened, knowing you were about to reignite his fuse. “Are you a puppy or something?”

Mingi let out a shameless moan from your words, his previously half-hard cock coming back to life and throbbing steadily. If he had visible pupils, they would be blown out by now. “Yeah, I’m a needy puppy…I need my Master’s cunt.”

“Then, clean up your mess, puppy,” you chimed, his title for you giving you so much satisfaction you almost came right then and there. You spread your thighs apart, sending an inviting smile his way. “And then you can fuck your Master dumb, okay?”

Mingi’s mouth was on your cunt before you could take another breath, his wide tongue collecting your juices and his own cum as he brought it up and down your cunt. “Mmm, fuck…”

“Good puppy,” you praised, your cunt pulsing around his tongue once he shoved it inside along with two fingers that slowly spread you apart, almost losing your composure from the way he began to vigorously tongue-fuck you. “Fuck, what do you think you’re doing, Min?”

“ ‘M just cleaning up my mess,” he moaned against your cunt, swiping at your clit with the tip of his tongue, making you throb again. “I wanted to get you nice and stretched out for my cock too. Don’t want to hurt my Master.”

Mingi’s filthily adorable words drifted through your lust-drunk mind, encouraging you to spread your hole open for the sweet spirit, gazing up at him. “I’m ready for you, puppy. Come and get it.”

-

You couldn’t remember how long you had been there for, taking Mingi’s cock from behind, your thighs trembling underneath you, the side of your face squished into the cum-soaked mattress, your sore wrists being held taut in the ghost’s tight grip, your throat growing more and more dry every time he sunk back into the tight heat of your cunt. You didn’t even have to worry about your moans being heard by your roommates. Mingi’s moans were much louder, much more whiner than yours.

Poor Mingi couldn’t help it. It just felt so good being balls-deep in such a tight, warm hole he could fuck and fill until he had no more cum left to empty out inside you. His eyes wandered down your back, fixating on the milky liquid that dripped down his length, slamming himself into you until it got pushed back inside where it belonged. “Gonna cum, gonna fuck you so full, it’ll be dripping out of you during breakfast tomorrow,” he warned in a weak, breathy voice, massaging and squeezing your hip with his free hand.

“Do it, Min, fuck me so full,” you cried out, feeling your entire body begin to shudder and throb with pleasure, catapulting over the edge along with Mingi once he began to slowly fuck his load into you until it joined the others still coating your used inner walls. “One more time, baby, fill me again…”

“ H-hold on…’m too sensitive…right now,” the ghost informed in between pants, idly licking at the drool that wanted to leak out past his lips. He let go of your wrists to wipe at his mouth, not prepared for the way your cunt suddenly clenched around his length.

“One more, Minnie, you can do it,” you encouraged through slurred words, lifting yourself up so that you could began to drive yourself back onto his cock, growing wetter just from the filthy squelching of your combined cum, Mingi’s sudden gasps, and his equally cute high pitched, airy moans. “That’s right, feels so good, huh?”

“S-so good,” Mingi choked out, running his hands up his body and holding onto himself periodically, hyper-fixated on the space where your slick bodies connected, whining each time you slammed yourself back onto him and took his cock inside as far as it would go. “Oh my goddd…you’re gonna make me cum again.”

You looked back at him, admiring the way his glistening lips were stuck in an ‘o’ shape, the way his eyebrows were screwed upwards, the look in his teary, half-closed eyes that told you not to stop. “Cum for me, baby, come on, give it to me,” you moaned out, fucking yourself on his cock until you clamped down on it, your own release spilling out of you and down your inner thighs.

“Y/N, fuck…!” Right on cue, Mingi let out a shamelessly loud wail, a few tears escaping his eyes, as you fucked him through his intense orgasm, milking his cock until he unloaded every last drop into you.

You were brought out of your cloudy headspace when Mingi’s body landed near yours on the mattress, suddenly compelled to wipe the remnants of tears away from his drool-stained face. “What a good ghost boy you are,” you whispered teasingly, yours fingers resting against his clammy cheek, rubbing it gently with your thumb.

Mingi squished his opposite cheek into the pillow, not knowing that it was flushed with a deep blue hue. His eyes crinkled at the edges, giving you a wobbly smile.

“Your ghost boy.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[erose-this-name]

Kabru is such a brilliantly written character, one of the best in Dungeon Meshi (which is a high bar as it is, most of the main cast are similarly genius). 

His thing is that he is very friendly and nice confident and maxed out his charisma stat, but is also kinda ambitious and manipulative. But not in an overtly malicious way. Which kinda scares me.

The most impressive thing about him, writing wise, is that it’s all show-don’t-tell. He very frequently uses his charm and empathy and understanding of how people think in really clever ways. We’re often walked through his thought process of how he does these social deductions. We’re never told he’s scarily charismatic, besides other characters reacting to him being scarily charismatic.

Kabru is a natural-born leader and social engineer with superlative skills in both, which makes him the perfect foil for Laios, who’s too autistic and unambitious that he’s not even the de facto leader of his own party that he’s the official leader of. He’s so bad at leadership that his party just, sort of, doesn’t have a leader. They just kinda argue and do stuff.

What’s also neat, and perfectly inline with Meshi’s general theme of clever and logical subversions of fantasy tropes, is that Kabru’s character design in no way clues us in on this fundamental character trait of his.

He’s sort of a human fighter / knight archetype, which in the language of fantasy RPGs is a class most would associate with being a white bread jock, chivalrousness optional. (Laios subverts the same trope in the same way. It’s really funny that the walking exposition dump of the group looks like the character creator default preset spec’d as the most generic class available.)

If Kabru was a bard or noble and Laios a wizard, their character traits would be far less interesting

Even better is that we would expect someone who looks like Laios to have Kabru’s personality, and vice versa. Their character designs are flipped; the confident super charismatic leader is a short wide-eyed twink, while the slightly naive and very autistic monster enthusiast is a tall conventionally attractive Aryan lookin’ mf. (see what I mean by Kabru being such a good foil for Laios?? No wonder everyone ships them, they’re perfect for each other!)

Yet, their designs also work for them. Kabru just has a face that’s easy to talk to, his piercing blue eyes and curly hair gives him a false sense of naïveté, while his iconic 👁️👁️ expression hints that there’s actually quite a bit going on inside his head. Meanwhile, Laios believably looks like someone who doesn’t know what hair conditioner is. His armor’s collar gorget thing is also pretty dorky.

You can’t trust people like that (I mean overly charismatic people with a manipulative streak, not blue-eyed twinks) because you can’t know what their real motives are. You can’t know they aren’t pretending, you can’t know they aren’t trying to or haven’t already manipulated you. How could you? When he has so much more social intelligence than you do, average socially awkward Tumblr user? He’s touched all the grass!

In episode 16 (spoilers, btw) Kabru finally meets Laios’s party, who he’s been trying to find and fight for the better part of the season, and he just decides that no confrontation is necessary. Like, immediately upon meeting the guy. Just from how Laios looked at him. He figures that since Laios didn’t seem to recognize him, they either have never met meaning he has the wrong guy, or Laios forgot meaning he didn’t think it’d be a big deal, meaning the treasure was a trap or something. Which is pretty in line with Kabru’s established ability to always roll nat 20s for every charisma and deductive reasoning check, so cool.

But he doesn’t even seem curious about which of those cases is true. (He might be interested to find out some of the treasure wasn’t dangerous, but accidentally got thrown off a bridge). Much to Rin’s dismay, he’d rather just not bring it up because that could upset the leader of the party he might be working with for the foreseeable future.

Actions speak louder than words. So, all we really learn in this scene is that Kabru’s goals and M.O. can change on a dime, and that he values reputation and political capital more than money and vengeance. More than his own party’s desire for those things. Not only is he someone with a silver tongue, but he knows its value and is determined to use it at every opportunity.

Kabru and his party might not be very good at fighting or surviving in the dungeon, in fact their frequent TPKs are a running gag. But, he also doesn’t need to be when he can just manipulate Laios’ and Shuro’s much more proficient parties into helping him.

So far, Kabru seems like the most likely one to become king of the dungeon or whatever the mcguffin is. He is the only protagonist so far who has said that’s an actual goal of his. He’s said that he doesn’t think someone like Laios who isn’t a born leader should get it.

In fact, Kabru seems to have very strong opinions on what kinds of people should be allowed to adventure in the dungeon, evidenced by the fact that he murdered an entire party over it, justified or not. Kabru seems to think that Kabru is such a leader, and he’s probably right about that, but what kind of leader? 

What would Kabru do with that kind of power if he gets it? Because I’m not sure. All I know is that he is the kind of person with the ability to use real political power to its full potential. For good, or for very, very bad.

I’m not saying that Kabru is evil or that he’s secretly gonna be the surprise villain. I dunno, I haven’t read the manga. He could just be a nice guy that’s just, like, is like that. Everything he’s done could be justified by the explanations he’s given. He actually reminds me a lot of one of my IRL friends, and I’d trust him with my life.

But, I can’t help but feel a distinct sense of unease whenever he’s on-screen. I try not to trust confident natural-born leaders like him right out of the gate. I don’t like that our instinct as humans is to blindly follow them without thinking about it.

Tyrants and psychopaths also use confidence and charm and a friendly demeanor to make people think they’re a good guy, while manipulating everyone into thinking their self-serving actions are altruistic. Benevolent, confident, skilled leaders do exist. But there exists many more snakes wearing their skin. Wolves rarely bother with sheep’s clothing, they dress as shepherds and sheepdogs.

Anyway, my point is that I think it’s kinda neat that it’s possible to overthink this much about a character whose probably just a nice guy that is the mirror opposite of an autistic person. Writing that kind of ambiguity is hard, and employing it in this way is inspired.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Callouses on his gentle hands was absolutely adorable! It kept making me thing of a continuation of the sorts where some years pass and the reader actually enlisted in the military earning the code name Bird too without Price having any knowledge. Only to show up when he's a captain maybe even to be part of 141 or something important.

Idk if this is a possible request as I don't want to bother you but it would be amazing if there was some well timed banter and just generally happy.

Again your writing is so good it leaves me speechless I love it so much! 👁️〰️👁️

Calluses and Milky Scars

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: It's been years since you've seen or heard from John and yet you still can't get him out of your head. But can a chance meeting rekindle old emotions? (18+)

Word Count: 16.1k

Warnings: Angst, typical violence & gore, talks of human trafficking, vulgar language, eventual fluff, banter, smut, honestly I think I wrote switch!Price without even realizing it, p in v sex, fingering, teasing, breeding kink, etc.

A/N: Imma be honest I hate the first part of this duology - it was one of my earlier works - so I made this as standalone as possible. So if you don't wanna read the first part (please don't) you can still understand this one just fine by itself. (this is also an excuse for more smut practice). Anyway, enjoy! Part 1

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

They only saw the glint of a blade, the metal reflecting the light of a mist-filled night back into the whites of their eyes. You could see the result of your form in their terror-stricken visages as, one after one, they succumbed to the ministrations of your unyielding determination. 

You had forgotten when the act of taking a life had become so easy for you. It was as natural as breathing, now. Elementary. Your fingers could pull a trigger just as fast as they would raise for a handshake or a wave. There was little need to be shy about it – your days as a victim were far behind you, and ‘Bird’ was nothing more than a callsign uttered under hushed breaths. Said behind back alleys by Human Traffickers with fear-slick eyes. 

It was no longer uttered in a deep British accent, the word making your skin tingle and cheeks heat. No matter how much you longed for it to be.

You were a Captain in the military now. Working hand-in-hand with the CIA under the direction of a certain Kate Laswell. You even commanded your own Squad that specializes in getting others out of the very situation you had been in years ago with no mercy or hesitation. 

Revenge, you decided, was most likely why this was easy for you. 

You enjoyed it. 

“Perimeter clear, Captain,” Wren speaks into your earpiece as you step over the bodies at your feet, boots splashing through puddles of blood so starkly contrasting the grass it makes you smirk.

“Move up.” A balaclava covers your face, and sweat dribbles down your brow before you blink it out of your eye. 

Around your chest, the M4A1 sits with its familiar weight, and you wipe the life-fluid from your crude combat knife before sheathing it at your thigh. You had taken out three stragglers at the South End of the current Targets territory, your blood singing sweetly in your veins at the prospect of finally crossing another name off your list. 

“Eagle,” Your voice bounces off trees and low shrubs, and you continue forward as your fingers press the button on the old-issue radio. There were better versions nowadays, and you got teased for still using the ancient one you have currently strapped to your chest, but it was sentimental to you. An old friend had given it to you for safekeeping a long time ago…How many years now was it since you had seen or heard from John Price? Ten? Fifteen? Who could really tell, anyhow? Time moved quickly, and you ran through it even quicker. 

Your sharp eyes flick out over the view as you exit the brush, standing on the top of a large ridge – a series of warehouses lit up with large spotlights below your perch makes you frown. 

“Let’s get this started then, shall we?” You mutter, shifting your feet and rolling your shoulders. “Blackout in 3.” 

“Roger that, Ma’am.” 

You watch the guards walking like obsidian ants below, your predatory gaze missing nothing – you spot the mannerisms fairly quickly; who limps, who favors their left over their right. Who’s sleeping on the job. A first victim was almost immediately chosen as you tilt your head and feel the chilled breeze on your visible skin. Your Unit knows the procedures you’ve ingrained into them and they’re watching just as closely and predatory as you are. 

All four, including you, are stationed in a circle around the area, with Eagle, the man with the sniper rifle, taking point far off into the trees on a higher portion of the topography. Three seconds of prep time come and go quickly. And so do the lights.

A series of muffled pops and a shattering of glass break the night into chaos, and then the illumination goes out entirely. The area is plunged into an inky darkness of your own command – you revel in it. And then the screams begin. 

“Take ‘em.” You mutter through the open channel, and your feet then propel you forward, dodging trees and jumping downed branches as you skid down the slope. Your heart beats with adrenaline, the hunt making your nerves twitch. 

In your grip, you ready your weapon, flicking off the safety as shots begin to ring out over the land. Eagle was taking off the ones he could, but if you had to guess, Shrike was already in the fray, letting her face get bloody from the close quarters she favored. You only hoped the woman wouldn’t go overboard this time. Thrush was usually the one to help keep her head on, but the man was across the territory with his own hostiles to wipe the board of. 

You fire at the first shadow with a light finger, watching it drop and pivoting to pull the trigger at two more before they knew what was happening – too panicked by the sudden assault seemingly out of nowhere.

“Shrike,” Your voice wafts over the buzzing line, “mind yourself. I don’t need you put on Suspended Leave again.”

“Don’t worry, Ma’am,” Thrush’s light voice meets your ears as you take cover behind a vehicle directly in front of one of the warehouses, “I’m making my way to her now.”

“Ah, Fuck off, Thrush!” Shrike growls, and there’s a distinct sound of someone’s gurgling last breath in the background. It makes you let out a huff of demented laughter. “I know the limits!” 

“I don’t think she knows the limits, Ma’am,” Eagle grunts over the call, and a shot sizzles past your head and takes out a charging man that was making his way to your hunched and hidden form. “I really don’t.”

Rushing forward out of your cover, you chuckle breathlessly as Wren’s dignified voice pipes in.

“I’m making my way to the main building and getting set to download the data. Target’s nowhere to be seen, Captain.” Your lips thin under the fabric and you grunt, feeling a bullet graze your bicep. Ducking in an instant, you set your feet and fire, running past before the sound of the body slamming to the ground behind you can reach your ears. A burning heat enters your arm, but you barely acknowledge it. 

“Eagle, cover her until I get there.”

“Affirm.” 

“Shrike, Thrush, report. How’s the other warehouse lookin'?” Your body skids across the ground, and your hand connects with the warehouse you needed to clear before making your way to Wren and the Mainframe. 

Half of the Op was data retrieval, and the other was taking out a human trafficker only named in his file as Buck – bastard’s been running for a long time, and you needed to leave him a bloody mess before he kept his ‘business’ going. Laswell only sent in your Squad because she knew you could get it done with an efficiency no one else could. Nearly a perfect success rate got the attention of people worldwide; your waiting list was long of the places the CIA wanted to send you and your team. 

But you didn’t care, as long as your own list was getting checked off they could fly your ass to Antarctica for all it mattered. 

“Our warehouse is cleared out. Must not have expected us…they were running around with their heads chopped off.”

Shrike snickers. “Just like chickens.”

“Good. Join up with Wren and make sure she can get the download completed. Copy?” You grasp the large metal handle and growl, locking your arms and pushing with all of your strength. The weight makes your thighs shake, but you only open it enough for you to slip inside, gun at the ready as breaths puff from your mouth.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Boots shuffle over the concrete floor, and your ears twitch in the quiet darkness at the crunch of stray gravel underfoot. Your finger shifts slowly to the trigger, glaring into the nothingness. 

It was silent. 

You heard it then, like a spike to the heart – the panicked breathing; the sounds of shaking lungs and grasping hands. Sounds all so familiar it made you pause, mind for an instant blanking at the implications. 

There were people here. Drowning in fear.

You could see them in the corners, scores of bodies piled on top of one another to find some semblance of comfort. Their eyes wink in the moonlight of a single window in the roof, and the stench nearly makes you want to gag. Blinking, you lower your gun, feet shifting to stand straight like a statue; heart racing. These people weren’t supposed to be here, and already vicious comparisons to your own rescue by a certain man a long time ago invade your mind. Calluses seem to burn your hands under your gloves, and a gentle imaginary prod at an injury on your forehead makes the milky scar ache. 

He readies the wipe in one of his hands, the other coming up to your jaw. When you tense he freezes, but as soon as the hesitance leaks away from you like a wave, the slow motion returns to his limbs; his fingers come to grab at your chin, gently holding your head in place. When you place more weight into his hold and release a deep-chested sigh of content he quirks a dark eyebrow.

“This might sting, Doll,” John whispers.

“That’s alright,” You mutter back, staring into his beautiful eyes as the wipe comes into view in the side of your vision. “Not your fault.”

He only releases a puff of air from his lips before adding the smallest amount of pressure to your forehead, running the wipe over the red and swollen flesh. 

Taking a deep breath one of your hands goes to your radio stiffly. Eagle needed to know about this so he could send a message to Laswell – get an immediate Medical Evac for these people. 

In your hyper-focussed state, memories you wished would stay away rear their head; infect your intuition and common sense. You missed the click of the safety until the barrel of the pistol was level with the back of your head. Freezing, your fingers tense over the device, your body going rigid and muscles tight as the people in the corners gasp and cry out into the night. 

A panting man stands behind you and you feel his hands shaking as the barrel digs into the balaclava’s fabric.

Well, that’s unexpected.  

“Show me your hands,” He breathes heavily, and you feel his puff of air echo out over the open space. Tinged with fear. Dripping with adrenaline. 

Your lips pull back into a steady, hidden, smirk, head tilting as your hands slowly drift from your radio and let your weapon hang from its strap around your chest; feeling it bounce off the various packs and supplies you carry with pride. They splay beside your head, fingers lazily loose and leather gloves squealing into the night. 

Selene herself holds her silver breath, the winds sucked down into Hades as Cerberus breaks sinner’s bones with his savage jaws and blood-slick teeth. It was silent. 

Born and bred to violence, there truly wasn’t a better place for you to be than in the CIA. This was Hell, but you could play that black-clad ruler’s game just the same. You’d been dodging him for years.

“T-toss your gun to the floor.”

“You know that won’t matter.” You look behind you, side-eyeing that shaking would-be threat. Phobos lives in his very being. Coward. Pathetic. Red-hot anger lights your nerves, iris narrowing to black slits. This thing – he was little more than an entitled boy in a man’s body. Using others for his gain just like others had used you. This was your Target. 

This was Buck. 

“So this is the one who made an empire on the suffering of innocents.” You mumble, unafraid and unbothered with a scoff. “I really expected more than a man who plays with his food.”

Yes, the adrenaline was running in your veins; you were human. It was natural. But the way the wailing birds rampaged in your chest wasn’t – you should be afraid, not angry. Not enraged to the point you were shaking; fingers twitching for your knife. For spilled blood to coat the earth.

Phobos was this man’s ruler, but that Fear God’s father was Ares. And Ares was yours.

“I…I said drop your fucking weapon you bitch–!”

Your opposite hand knocks Buck’s wrist to the side and your body twists. In a single fraction of a second between the loud misfire that hits the floor and the ringing in your ears, the knife at your thigh finds purchase in his pliable neck. Crimson sprays over your eyes; staining the balaclava as your body falls to the ground as you jam the blade deeper – all the way to the crossguard. 

Buck grumbles wetly from under you, hands coming to weakly grasp at your arms and attempt to pry your unyielding body from him. His grip is as strong as a child’s, and as blood spurts from his mouth and entry wound, you slap your free hand over his face and twist the knife. Strangling the hilt in your grasp, you viciously jerk your limb, sending the edge sliding over his neck; cutting tendons and arteries. Creating a red-lipped smile from ear to ear that explodes with gore. 

Buck was already dead before the puddle over the ground grew an inch in diameter. 

Ripping your weapon out, you shove your boot into his chest and push off, stumbling to your feet as you stare down wide-eyed. Your digits shake, but the flickering of your gaze goes from the dead eyes to the open mouth of the corpse. Flicking your wrist, you splatter more blood on the floor to rid some of it from your blade before sheathing it. 

Gripping your radio, you speak clearly into the line. 

“Eagle this is the Captain – get in contact with Laswell immediately. Civvies in the far South warehouse. Ask for Medical Evac.” 

Say to bring only women, you want to growl but refrain. That was impossible to manage.

You stare at them now, the innocents, and see your own path reflected in the many colors and the feral glints in their irises. In the way their bodies huddle like cats with their backs flared. If life had been different, would you still be in a situation like this – waiting for your own John Price to break you out? It was a difficult question. Far more challenging to answer than why the body behind you was staining the concrete with blood and tears. 

…What would have happened if he had never kneeled down before you that day? Offered you his hand stained with calluses and gunpowder residue? 

You blink at the thin bodies, gaze flowing to each and every one in turn. With a slow motion you begin forward, hands at your sides and visible; you draw the memory to you. The one you think of often.

You had stayed there in fear, curled up in the corner, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Until John.

“Ma’am,” He had said, kneeling on one leg while his hands clutched his M16 to his chest, the muzzle still smoking, “I’m Lieutenant John Price in Command of Unit Bravo. You’re safe now.” 

Unit Bravo? Safe? You had wondered, looking up at the man with confusion. How can I be safe?

Nonetheless, when he offered you a hand, you had taken it, looking in awe at how gently he gripped your limb in his own; John’s limb completely swallowed yours and yet held you like delicate glass. 

You stopped before a woman far too young to be in a situation like this and kneeled. She watched you with a shaking body, the others curling away in fear. They didn’t know you, and so they feared you. Taking a breath, your hand raises, and the woman’s eyes are laser-focused on your form. 

I should make myself smaller, you think. And so you do. 

The fabric is sweat-heavy; laden with dirt and other substances, but you grasp it without hesitation and peel it off of you. It sits in your hand with the weight of the past in the thick polyester threads. Swallowing down saliva at the breeze that hits your face, you watch the lady blink at you, her gaze filled with confusion. 

An easy smile comes to your face; if they hadn't just seen you murder a man, they would not believe you to be the same person. Yours was not the face of a killer – of someone who twists the knife deep and revels in death. It was soft beside the scar above your eyebrow, easy to look at. Innocent.

A simple Bird, no. A vulture perhaps suited you better, if they were to get into specifics.

You clear your throat and they all flinch. 

“Ma’am,” Your voice carries. Again, not the voice of a monster. But even Ares marries a beauty. Could you not be a spawn of them? Beautiful and utterly bloodied by the rules of war? Oh, yes, that’s what you were, you had to be. Nothing else would make any sense. But they gravitate to you nonetheless – war and love often go hand in hand. Especially when one killed the ruler of their torment. “I’m the Captain of Raptor Squad. You can call me Bird, if you want. It’s alright. We’re gonna get you out of here and get you some help, okay? You’re safe now.”

The woman can’t help but nod sheepishly. 

Who says no to an offspring of Gods themselves?

—

The helicopter ride back was silent, with everyone tired and covered in more blood, dirt, and sweat than they can recall. Buck’s body was stuffed into a black bag and sitting in the walkway at your feet – you needed it for positive identification back on Base. You had shuffled back into the balaclava, taking comfort in the security and anonymity it lent. Below, your eyes watch the word whizz past, one foot limply hanging off the side thousands of feet above the ground; you swish it back and forth like a child and allow yourself to think. 

You had joined the military only a few years after John had rescued you – much against the wishes of your therapist, but seeing as you were of sound mind, it wasn’t that difficult to enlist. The brown-haired Brit had sent you letters for the first three months after you had left the Base you had been recovering at and then, inexplicably, they had stopped. No letters, no contact. The radio – along with you – was too far away to get a signal; that was how it ended.

Not with a kiss or a soldier’s goodbye, just nothing. Silence.

But you never held it against him. Perhaps, you reasoned and partially believed, he was already dead. At the end of the day, he had been a great motivator for you, and over the years your fists and skills had propelled you to top ranks. Laswell had been in contact soon after you had been promoted to Lieutenant and Raptor Squad had been formed when you had chosen the most violent and perfect bastards to join it. 

From there it was win after win and the CIA soon counted this team as one of the most lethal in its roster. You’ve been all over the world. 

More than I could imagine I would become in a concrete corner and locked in a cage. 

Your eyes watched the expanse of forest outside, but there was still something missing. Why had John just…stopped? It was the one question you could never answer. 

Did I really not matter to him at all? Around your vest, your fingers twitch as the helicopter bounces on airwaves. Blue eyes still haunted you – the ones that held silver starlight hostage. How they used to soften with care when they looked down at you. John shouldn’t have mattered this much to you. 

Why can’t I just let go of him?

You bite at your hidden lip with sharp teeth, peeling back the skin as Wren shifts in her seat beside you. She speaks into the comms to avoid yelling over the drowning sound of helo blades and you lock your eyes on her form.

“You might want to look at the info I retrieved from the Target’s mainframe, Captain. Didn’t Laswell mention she had a separate Task Force going after someone named Casilda Kalpana? She’s mentioned in this file.” Wren hands you her tablet, and you hold it in one of your hands as your hard eyes slim down the screen, taking in compiled sources. 

Casilida Kalpana was on your list of Targets to take care of, but Laswell had given the job to another Task Force – designated TF-141 – for the small difference that this woman had ties to multiple terror organizations. Raptor Squad was no stranger to that, but Kate had also stated that the Captain of that group had been incredibly instant on taking it himself. 

Your head tilts in memory.

“Kate, I’m not understanding why you think we can’t handle it.” You huff, shaking your head with an exasperated expression. “It’s no different than anything we’ve done before.”

“I have no problem with you participating, but the Captain pulled in a favor. Said he ‘felt obligated’ or something like that.” You pull a face, and Laswell glares at you from behind her desk. “Bird, I really don’t have the time to argue today – I’m stuck with stacks of papers because Keller decided to get himself lost again.” 

“I’m not trying to argue, Kate.” Holding up your hands you chuckle and roll your eyes. “The only thing that matters is that the Target ends up six feet under at the end of the day. You know what it means to me.”

The Agent looks up from her papers and pauses for a moment, a pen placed between her digits, and her eyes soften around the gray edges. 

“I can personally assure you, Captain, that this Task Force will see it done…Now hurry up and get ready for your own mission – I hear South America is warmer than usual this time of year. Pack a cold drink.”

The words in the file make your stomach churn; leading to your eyes widening. You flip the tablet back to Wren and radio Eagle who’s blankly watching Shrike and Thrush play rock-paper-scissors across from you.

“Eagle,” the man’s head snaps to you and he blinks, “Patch through to Laswell. Tell her to gather Task Force 141 in the meeting room on Base and wait for me. Under no circumstances should they be allowed to leave on the Op for the HVT Casilda Kalpana. We’ve got vital intel.” 

Eagle nods and gets to work on a secure call to Kate, as you turn to Wren, clapping her on the shoulder and leaning close to speak into her ear over the noise. 

“Good work, Sergeant. Get all that transferred onto a flash drive for me, yeah?”

“On it, Ma’am.”

This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it? You sigh deeply, tilting your head back as the sun starts to slowly rise over the land, bathing it in an orange glow that spreads out like fire. The large Cargo plane following behind the Helicopter would carry the innocent victims of Buck back to Base, and you fight the urge to get in contact with the pilot's headset to ask how it was going for them. It was hard to not get attached – especially when you knew what was probably going through their fear-stricken brains. 

Left wondering in silence, your fingers pick at themselves over your gloves, peeling at frayed threads and durable fabric. As the minutes stretch into hours, you lift a hand and run a digit over your scar, caressing the skin as the forest pulls back and buildings emerge. Turbulence overtakes the helicopter, and your hand grabs the net on the side of the wall to steady yourself as the descent begins. 

Settling your nerves, you wait until the ‘all good’ from the cockpit before you hop out, signaling with your finger for your Squad to follow close behind. Someone else would come and grab the body bag – it wasn’t your problem anymore. Your feet pound the Tarmac, and you can’t help the look you send up to the sky, watching the cargo plane on the horizon as it comes closer. Frowning under your covering, you re-focus. 

I need to stop thinking about it – I always get like this with civvies. 

It was hard not to. You only wanted to bring them the same comfort that John had brought you. 

God, stop fucking thinking about him! His phantom haunts your every step like the two of you were Orpheus and Eurydice – only one of you wasn’t dead in the first place. One had left; abandoned you to the wolves. You had said you held no bad feelings towards the Brit but was that true? And if he was really dead, would you ever even know it?

Your feet carry you forward as the helicopter blades slice the air, making your clothes ruffle and shake under the combat vest and around your ankles. 

The last time you had contact with the brown-haired man, you had been reading his letter in a free-of-charge home given to you until you could get on your feet and secure a job. John had been sent back to the UK on another assignment, leaving you a nervous wreck surrounded by people you didn’t know the intentions of. You had been excited to go to the mailbox at the time – even if being outside still made you nervous. Everything was just so big to you back then. When your fingers had opened the small metal box and found the white letter with the elegant script on top, you felt a smile rip open your face. 

But the contents had been less than they usually were. Stiffer; formal in a way you had yet to associate with the man. He had always been nice to you. But maybe he had grown past that – you feared that thought.  

“This’ll be my last letter for a while, Bird. I’m going Black. Make sure to remember to go outside and drink water for me, yeah?” 

-Price

There had been the start of another sentence before it had been scribbled out and then had been it. No updates; no return address this time so you could write him back. And then you had bever received another letter until you had gotten fed up with your life going nowhere and enlisted. John Price had disappeared, and whether he was dead or halfway across the world you knew not. 

He had been the only man you had trusted until Eagle and Thrush had become a part of your group. Still, even now, the opposite sex made you hesitant – you didn’t like being alone with a man you didn’t know. Your line of work didn’t help that notion, either. 

“Bird,” Shrike’s voice brings you back, and your eyes slide to your side to look at the smaller woman. You hum in question. “What was in the file Wren downloaded? And who’s Task Force 141?”

“All in due time,” You mutter back, your hand opening the front door of the main building. No one was bothering to remove their gear or clean themselves – they all understood from the way you were walking faster that this was important. “And as for TF-141, I have no idea. Never met ‘em.” 

Wren coughs, and Shike looks over as Thrush and Eagle listen silently, the former handing a cigarette over to the other.

“One-Four-One is a Multinational Special Operations Unit comprised of operatives from all over the globe. Much like what we do, but on an infinitely larger scale. I believe Laswell asked our Captain to join it a year ago…” Wren trials, not bothering to look up from her tablet where she still reads through files and other intel from the mission.

Thrush’s eyes widened. 

“Holy shit, really? And you passed it up?” 

“Obviously,” You snort, itching at your bicep where the bullet graze still sits in dried blood and dirt. You repress an annoyed hiss of pain. “Why do you think I’m still stuck here with you lot?” 

“Awe,” Shrike coos, scrunching her nose, “She loves us.” 

“Loves to hate us,” Eagle whispers. You send a half-serious glare as Wren chortles to herself. 

“I can always ask Kate for the offer again.” A loud uproar makes people in the hallway turn and stare, and you laugh under your face-covering, chest light. 

You all arrive at the meeting room door and you don’t bother knocking, shoving your way inside with Shrike still giggling behind you. There’s the presence of five others in the room, and one stands at the head of a large table, a blank projector behind her in dim lighting. You don’t bother looking at anyone else – still keeping that habit of being nervous around new people. 

Laswell sighs as she looks you over, crossing her arms over her blouse. 

“We're all here, Captain. What was so urgent that you had to show us?” You slip past her and head to the computer atop a wooden stand, hearing whispers and muttered comments as your groups disperse around the room. Heavy stares that peel back skin like batter nearly make you sweat. They were boring into you, making your heart race. 

They’re waiting for us, you remind yourself. 

“Wren.” You call steadily and a second later you’re catching a well-aimed flash drive without looking and plugging it into the computer. 

Before touching anything else, your hands reach up and grasp the balaclava, tearing it off your head in one quick motion and hooking it onto your belt. It was rare for you to wear it on Base.

A sharp inhalation of breath makes your fingers over the keys pause, but you only blink and return to typing – pulling up file after file. The air in the room was already tense, but whatever had just happened was setting off alarm bells. 

Who are these people? What just happened?

Nonetheless, you get to work and turn to Laswell with the intel on screen.

“You’re going after a useless player. Casilda Kalpana is only a pawn in a much larger scheme.” Kate’s eyes snap from one digitized document to another as you continue, staring at her and no one else with a blank expression. “If you had sent your Task Force, they would have died. They already knew you were coming.”

“Well,” a distinctly Scottish accent makes your fingers twitch, but still you don't look as a comment is said into the air, “I’d have to disagree with that, now, Hen.” 

Blood and sweat stain your skin, and you’re covered in more of it down your gear. Your gloves are stiff with dried crimson and even the small amount of interaction you had on the computer left stains over the keys. But you still find the energy to roll your eyes. 

“Can you fight off upwards of one hundred hostiles while trying to sneak through a city so inhabited that it's practically a human ant hill? No offense, but if you answer that with ‘yes’ you may need a psych eval done.” 

There’s a pause before a small masculine snort echoes out. 

“Shut your gob, Garrick.”

“Laswell,” you remain on topic and the woman looks at you with inquisitive eyes, “The only way forward with this is cutting the head off the snake. I say we go one above Kalpana and take out the ring leader.”

“Abel?” Kate’s eyebrows raise, “Bird we’ve been looking for him for years – I don’t know what you expect us to do with noth–”

Your finger hits a key, and the next document pops up. 

“You can thank Wren for compiling the sources. Lots of emails to go through on the helicopter ride. Some not as fascinating as finding coordinates for a Target.” 

“You can say that again,” said woman huffs from the back of the room, “you know how many kinky photos these people send to one another. Shit’s disgusting.” 

The Scot speaks up again, “really? On a scale of how bad it was – one to ten, Bonnie.”

“Fifteen. I need my eyes bleached.” 

There is a gaze that doesn’t leave you; it hadn't since you had walked through the door. It is hard and unrelenting. It does not falter or blink away. 

It makes you nervous. 

Sucking down a deep breath you try to focus on what everyone is saying, but it becomes more difficult with every second. Your hand reaches up to your head, scratching at your scar as the presence follows your actions. 

Who is this? You wonder, but clench your jaw and listen to Laswell speak.

“--reliable is this source?”

Shrike answers from near the door, chuckling, “very, Ma’am. Rarely do these people sugarcoat things. Small brains, you understand?”

“...At the very least I need more than a location and a vague date. Bird,” your head turns slowly away from the floor, “can you give me a week?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“A week?” You frown, eyes narrowing at the blonde, “He could be off in the wind by then. Do you have any idea how much this guy runs – I’ve been tracking him down ever since I joined, Kate. This is the most I’ve gotten in that entire time.” Splaying out one of your hands for emphasis, everyone hangs off your words. “He’s the source of all of it. When you cut a snake up, the head can still bite, sure, but at least you know where not to step. Kill Abel now, and all of them are left bloody in the dirt. Ready to be picked off.” 

Before the stoic agent can say anything, the radio on your chest sizzles to life and you forget about the hot eyes and the thick air. 

The people from the warehouse. 

Hand snapping up, you turn your head down into it, facing forward as your eyes stiffen. 

“Cargo plane is clear for landing, Ma'am. Just thought I’d let the Squad know.” 

“Thank you, Cadet. I’ll be there momentarily to help out…” You blink, “Try to make sure only female medics work on them but make do if you have to.” 

“Copy that. I’ll spread the word.”

“Rog.” You don’t bother to take the USB from the computer before you turn away – they’ll all go over it while you see to the Civvies. 

“How many this time?” Kate asks seriously as you slip past, her body pivoting to orient herself as you pass.

“Warehouse full.” You grunt, itching at your bicep and shuffling to the exit. “Less than last time.” The agent knew better than to try and stop you. 

“That’s an old radio you’ve got.” The British accent makes you falter for a second; it was deep, aged like a fine wine that coated the vowels with clipped authority. Familiar for some reason, but you took no notice of it. “Must be one helluva long story, eh?” 

“Very long,” You say as your nimble hand connects with the door, “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to tell it–”

Your body freezes as you send a quick glance to the voice’s owner; stance suddenly locked tighter than a bank vault as your optics find familiar blue eyes. 

…John? There was suddenly a violent silence in your head, a sheet of white paper held in front of your brain to block it from firing. 

He looked older, but then again, it had been years. Many years. But the build of his face hadn’t changed so much to a point you’d be unable to recognize those blue eyes. Oh, that blue. Like deep water and sea foam on a cold shore. Was it possible to know someone only by their eyes? You had to argue that, yes, you could. Because the man sitting down at the table, flanked by three others that all watch the interaction with confused eyes, is not the Lieutenant you remember.

The beard was new – shiny brunette like his hair under his bucket-hat-covered head – along with the stature. Before, Price had been large, sure, but now he was built like a bear. Your tense eyes slip over the tight compression shirt covering his arms, the bulk of his thighs as he shifts in his chair to stand up firmly. John clears his throat, and your face heats under the flesh, but upon the doorknob, your fingers strangle the metal. He was taller. 

In your chest, the aggressive pounding of your heart rivals a cheetah.

What the fuck is he doing here? You can’t help but glare when the man frowns, his eyelids half-down in a studying look as his eyebrows push in. Like he was just as surprised as you were. Hesitant. But I’m not the one who disappeared. I’m not the one who made the other think they died.

When your face shifts to anger, John freezes, his hands coming up to cross and grip the collar of his beige combat vest looking about as awkward as he can. When you huff out a breath through your nose, his feet shuffle shoulder length apart. Ever the soldier – waiting for a lip-lashing. You watch the wrinkles on his forehead with growing hatred. 

“Bird, I…”

Breathe.

“Well, this just keeps getting fucking better and better.” Without another glance, you wrench the door open and shoulder though, tossing it back with a decent enough force to make the wall rattle as you disappear down the hall. 

But he won’t leave your thoughts. John Price. Alive. Here. 

What kind of game was this? 

Your hands are shaking at your sides when the door, already far down the hallway, opens quickly. But the feet are not heavy. Wren slides up next to you, her feet pumping. She doesn’t say anything, just walks next to you as your eyes shutter closed and you take a deep breath. 

“You up for helping out in the med ward?” You force yourself to say, hoping to distract yourself as your face once more moves back to a picture of innocent calm. 

How can he be here? Fuck…h-how? John was part of the 141 for this entire time? Did he know I was here? He couldn't have, no. But what if he did…

Why didn’t he say anything?

“I’m certainly more inclined to lead my abilities to the nurses, Captain. You’ll find no resistance from me.” You liked that about Wren. She never pried about things she knew you didn’t want to talk about. 

“Good. They’ll need them.”

—

“John!” You laugh, hands coming up to your head where the Lieutenant had placed his beanie, the chill outside had made your nose hurt and your breath puff out in clouds. 

Standing just outside the main exit of the medical ward, you grab the fabric as your face turns up to the tall man at your side. He had just shown up from a meeting, and the door closed behind his back as he locked his arms on his vest collar and set his feet shoulder length apart. 

“Well now, what’re you doin’ out here?” It was rare for you to be out of the building – open places still scared you. “You alright?” 

But you needed to think. 

Stiffly smiling, you try to hide your running thoughts from the man who narrows his deep blues at you. He shifts closer, and you can feel his heat melt into you, making your shivering slow for a moment. He made all of it better.

John huffs.

“You’re about as easy to read as anyone, Bird. Go on, then.” 

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” You play with your fingers, skin pulling tight. “I’m just overthinking everything.”

“You’re nervous.” He states, glancing ahead with a tilted head and a raised brow at no one. 

Under your feet, the snow shrieks as you shuffle, looking to the ground and sighing deeply. There was no point in hiding anything from him and his damn hawk eyes. 

“It’s just…I’ve missed so much, y’know?” Your teeth bite your lips as you feel his firm eyes on you, locked onto the side of your face and caressing your visage with their path. You blink out over the base, seeing everyone move from one place to another with a purpose in their steps. “I have no idea what I’ll do with myself all alone.” 

Whispering out the last sentence, you look at the ground, lips in a line. 

It’s a good while before the Lieutenant speaks, and he sighs deeply before he does. You don’t suppose he’s ever had to deal with something like this before. But he’s learning. All the others at Base and in Bravo Unit had been surprised that the two of you had formed such a tight bond in the limited time you had known each other. John Price wasn’t known to be the easiest person to speak to – especially when traumatized victims were on the other end. His stoic and quite confident attitude was the main deterrent, usually, but his hard eyes and face that rarely showed any emotion were a close second. 

But to you, he was the nicest person you had ever spoken to. He never made fun, poked, or prodded, and he certainly didn’t act mean or bossy toward you. John was kind and warm; gentle when you got to know him. 

And you quite liked his company. 

John’s sigh puffs out over the air, and you grab the sides of his beanie and pull it farther over your head to cover your ears. You send him a curious glance and watch his fingers tighten, one eyelid creasing farther than the other when he looks at you in turn. Locking eyes, you can’t help the small smile that twitches your lips, liking the natural handsomeness of his face. You wonder what a full beard would look like over his cheek beside the current scratchy stubble that you had always known.

His eyes flick to your lips, and his teeth grind against each other for a moment before they snap back to your face. 

“They’re sendin’ you out in three days, yeah?” John asks, scratching at his jaw with three fingers before settling his hands back into his vest. 

“Yeah.” You affirm, smile turning to a frown. The man tenses minutely beside you before clearing his throat.

“Well, where they shippin’ you off to? Someplace nice I’d imagine. Heard somethin’ about bloody Oregon, but they wouldn’t give me much more than that.” You tilt your head at that, expression turning amused.

“You asked?” 

“‘Course.” He raises a brow, and his eyes crinkle down at you. “You expect me not to?”

Face suddenly hotter than the sun, you blink rapidly, snapping your head to look out at the base once more. You may have imagined it, but John’s chest jerks in velvety chuckles you miss due to the ringing in your ears. 

What was happening to you?

A small silence wraps its arms around you before you gather the ability to speak again.

“I think it was Washington, actually.”

“Hm, that it?” John frowns to himself, “Lots of people, Love. How are you feelin’ ‘bout it?”

“I don’t really get a choice,” you chuckle, licking your chapped lips as your pulse rises, “whoever has space was kind enough to offer it, how can I say no to that?” 

“By tellin’ ‘em you don’t want to.” Price shuffles so he’s standing in front of you, blocking the people you were watching. He splays his hands at his sides and waits, blinking with a loose jaw. You nod an approval, though feel confused. 

His hands go to rest on your arms, holding them incredibly light; barely applying pressure but you lean into him anyways. You enjoyed it when he touched you like this – the only person you would allow to do so besides nurses. Your tension softens into pliable clay when he watches you. 

You could get lost in them, you knew, his eyes, if you stared for too long. There was an undeniable attraction to the man that you wanted to push away, but couldn’t help yourself. John was everything to you – he brought you books to read, sat with you as you ate in the cafeteria; he sat up with you when you radioed him about nightmares in the small hours of morning. 

That memory made you giddy. Price would stay in his barracks – unable to leave because of curfew – but would speak to you over your shared channel. Use that soothing tone of his to make your eyes flicker back into slumber until he hears your soft breath over the line and sighs. 

John’s throat releases a grunt, bringing you back to the present. He was staring at you softly, a small smile on his lips. You try not to suck in a soft breath. How long had you been staring at him?

“Focus, Bird.” You can’t stop the mute giggle on your tongue. 

“Sorry.” 

The Lieutenant's head tilts, and his usual expression shifts back. He studies your face, eyes sliding over to the bandages above your eyebrow. 

“If you don’t wanna go, tell ‘em, okay? No one can force you to do anything.” He sighs. “I need you to understand that.”

“...Where else would I go?” You mutter, keeping your eyes locked. “It’s not like I have a home, John.” 

His eyes snap away to look at the wall behind you, narrowing. The expression makes you grin, finding it funny when the man thinks so hard. John blinks, cycling back to stare at your lips. 

The air heats and in your chest, you feel your heart beat just a tiny bit faster. Grumbling, Price peels back and releases you before his hands travel up to his beanie. He pushes it down farther, lightly ruffling your head in the process. 

“Hey!” You huff, annoyed. Your hands flap above your head, shoving his digits away as his chest jumps in low chuckles. “Jerk.” 

You shove the fabric from your eyes and beam. 

“Couldn’t help myself, Love. Here, let me.” John’s hands find your chin, fingers so delicately, brushing the chilled flesh that immediately warms at his work. One limb stays, while the other goes to fix the position of the hat.

Sucking in a slow breath, you look up into his eyes and blink as he focuses on your head with a concentrated furrow in his brow. How did he always manage to make you feel safe? Take away your worries as if they had never existed? If there was one man on earth that could make all of this better, it was the one standing right in front of you.

It would always be John.

“Will you keep in touch?” You whisper, nervous for the answer, and his eyes momentarily snap to yours as his motion slows. A pause.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.” 

“Hm, well then, I'll write ‘til you tell me to stop.”

—

The reports make you want to bash your own skill in. In the dim light of your office, you sit into the deep hours of the night in your chair, spare reading glasses on your nose to help you force away the blurriness from fatigue. You had spent the whole day with Wren in the medical ward helping the civvies get settled and the nurses with the workload. Such a large influx of patients had set them back for weeks, but it couldn't be helped. They weren’t the people to push anyone away – you knew that firsthand. 

You were still in contact with a few nurses from your own stay all those years ago. Good people.

Swishing another of your signatures on a confidentiality document, you slide it to the side and stifle a yawn with the back of your hand before picking up the next file. Your fingers flick the manilla paper open to where you plan to write gruesome details into the blank lines of the sheets inside, and you just begin to let your ink bleed into the paper when your mind suddenly runs to a brown-haired Brit. Pausing, you blink sleepily before pulling the pen back and setting it on the table with a long sigh. 

“Fucking hell.” A groan escapes your lips. This had been going on for hours. You’d try to start something and then the thoughts would get blocked by that damn man. 

He was even more handsome than you remembered him. Lightly tapping the tabletop with your nails, you can’t deny the heat that had entered your body when you had seen John again. The coarse beard. The writhing muscle of his thighs paired with that tapered waist. 

He had aged beautifully down to the very atoms of his makeup to a point it made your breath go thin; pupils widened in a primal display of need. It was pathetic. But the carnal attraction had always been there along with the normal crush. There was something you had learned a million times over – it was never going to be anyone else but John Price. Even so, it wasn’t for a lack of trying. You’d had plenty of boyfriends throughout the years – small flings that never lasted. 

None made you feel as secure as the once Lieutenant’s simple presence had. Wren had told you in the med ward that he was a Captain just the same as you, now. Captain Johnathan Price. If anything, it made you mad that the title had a nice ring to it.

Your face twists into thinly-veiled annoyance. What gave him the right to come waltzing back? You thought he was fucking dead. Instead, you had been ghosted so bad you joined the goddamn military to help cope. Fuck, maybe your therapist had been right all along.

You’re just about to let off a spring of audible curses when a knock on your office door makes you flinch, eyes scrunching before sense finally finds you again.

Can’t I wallow in peace? You ask yourself, hoping Shrike hadn’t gotten into a fistfight at the local bar in town again. I swear I need to put Thrush on watch duty for that woman. Maybe Eagle’ll convince him for me. 

“Come in.” You stand as the door opens slowly, hinges echoing out as you slide the reading glasses off your face and toss them down. “I swear if Shrike got suspended again I’m going to hit her over the head with the code-of-conduct manual.” 

Snapping your fingers and cracking your neck, you huff when no one responds before turning to the door.

“What’s going–Oh.” 

John stood in the doorway, wearing nothing more than a thick black cotton shirt that covered his large arms and hugged just the perfect amount over his triceps. It showcased his large shoulders before being tucked into his cargo pants. For once in your life, you think you’ve seen him without some sort of hat on his person. 

Freezing, you stare wide-eyed at him. John frowns from where he lets the door automatically shut, nodding his head towards you firmly in greeting as your heart kickstarts. His large hands enter his pockets like some guilty teenager as you gape at him. 

John clears his throat. 

“Bird.”

“Get out.” You deadpan, not bothering to hear the man out. Price groans, head tilting to the side to glare at the wall as his jaw clenches.

“Love, would you let me explain–”

“No. Frankly, I’ve had enough adrenaline rushes for one day, you damn jerk. Now, get out of my office.” You begin making your way from around the table; pulse flying through every point in your body. 

You can’t be here, John, you clench your fists, please, you can’t be here. 

Annoyance sparks in those blues that you love to stare into, but all you do is go to stand right in front of the man with a violet frown that he mirrors. 

“Bird.” He says again, setting his feet.

“John.” You raise a brow and cross your arms. The Brit growls, gaze flicking away with a heat to it before wafting back like fog over water.

“What’re you doing here?” He says slowly, trying to keep the peace between the two of you.

“Well,” under your arms, your hands shake, “what the hell do you think? Working the same as everyone else. Or at least I was trying until you showed up.”

“That’s not what I bloody fuckin’...” John trails off, closing his eyes before taking a deep breath and letting the tension in his shoulders loosen. His hands exit his pockets, and you stare as they splay by his waist. “Please, Love. I’m not trying to argue with you.” 

“Arguing is the least of what you should be worried about.” Grumbling under your breath you lick your lips as his eyes lock with yours. 

There was something there you couldn’t name, but it sat on the tip of your tongue – perhaps close to the emotions of guilt and horror that left the Brit’s jaw tight and his eyebrows constantly furrowed. Had he really never expected to see you again? 

Yes. You figure with a heavy heart and a spark of hurt. Had you really been so discardable? In your mind, you had thought that you meant something to him. But maybe that was just another lie. 

Letting out a scoff, you roll your eyes before looking away.

“Weren't really many options for me.” You concede a small portion of yourself if only to get him to leave so the way he makes your lungs sputter and face heat can cease. The others would make fun of you for this. A pointless crush on a man you hadn’t stopped thinking about for ages and held a great deal of resentment toward. When would the self-sabotage end with you? “Thought it was a better way to help others like me.” 

You turn back and raise an expectant brow. “Happy now?” 

John just continues to stare, lips thin and pulling under his beard hair as he raises a hand to itch at his jawline. A growl digs at your throat. 

“John. Leave.” Not able to help yourself, you spit out, “if you wanted to quit talking to me all those years ago – you could have just told me instead of making me think you were fucking dead.”

The man’s head immediately flinches back, face scrunching in genuine confusion as his mouth parts. Under his shirt, you see his heart skip a beat.

“What are you sayin’ Bird? I never did anything fucken’ like that. What are you on about?” He shakes his head, “you stopped answering me.”

“The fuck are you saying? No, I didn’t!” Reeling back, you throw your hands above your head in a display of surrender; about to slink back to your desk and try to forget the heat of John’s body and the blaze of his eyes. “God, I give up on you and your stupid accent. I have reports to get done without your presence making me want to vomit.” 

“Oh, my presence,” The Captain throws out a humorless chuckle that makes you want to cry. “Eh, you’re angry at me – you have every right to be, Love. I fucked up,” He growls, teeth gnashing, “But don’t fuckin’ lie to me. That is not what bloody happened – I never stopped writing you.”

“What the hell do you mean that’s not what happened?!” Your scream surprises you, with your voice bouncing off the wall like a demented banshee was in the room. You snap back around on quick feet and stalk over to the man. John’s eyes widen at the enraged tone and he blinks in shock as you continue, backing up a single step when you get in his face. “I waited and waited for you to send another letter – I waited months for nothing! Do you know how that felt, John? To-to go over in my head that maybe you never made it back from that Black Op at all? That you were dead somewhere in a fucking jungle or a desert or anywhere? I tried to get in contact with everyone, and nothing panned out. They wouldn’t tell me shit. So don’t stand there and say it never happened like that, because that is exactly how it happened!” 

You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears are dripping down your chin, hitting the floor with muffled plops.

 John is slack-jawed, eyebrows all the way up on his forehead and orbs stuck on you – on your obvious panic. His breath is heavy, and you feel it spread over your face from how close the two of you were; you had ended up pointing a finger right into the Captain’s peck. Under your harsh press, your flesh felt his pulse flying off the rails. Your nose scrunches as you sniffle, aggressively ripping your limb back to your side. Oh, but he had been so soft under you; his skin beneath that fabric reacting to your own by pulsing to life. John’s tongue wetted his lips. 

Scoffing, you take a step back, but the man speaks before you can get far enough away. It was quiet, how he said the words, and his expression was one of genuine confusion and concern. His eyes were brighter than the moon – that gray space rock put to shame by the rolling beauty of his optics that reflect light far better than she ever could. Gentle Selene, how did it feel to be beaten by a man covered in more death and blood than anyone? Who’s skin is tough and callused so perfectly that a child of Ares wants to feel those fingers caress her in forbidden places. Oh, to be kissed and loved by him. To be worshiped like a god. 

“What in the hell are you talking about?” It was nothing more than a gasp, and you see his fingers twitch to touch you; to hold you to him as if nothing had ever happened.

“John, I’m not repeating myself.” You sob down a breath, looking away and shrugging pathetically.

“Bird, listen to me. Eh, eh. I…I never stopped sending you letters, yeah?” Blinking, you turn back to him and frown dumbly, your eyes furiously dancing from one wrinkle of his forehead to another. A minute passes where you feel more tears drop to the floor. 

“...What?” Confusion laces your eyes, “but I never got anymore after…” 

You trail off, letting the sentence die as your heart does. 

What does he mean he kept writing letters? I…I waited and I never got any. None of this made any sense, but the man in front of you was never one to lie. Ever. 

John takes a step forward and you tense. He freezes, face hard and jaw set beneath his beard. You can tell he’s still confused – just as you are, but his attention is fully on you.

“Can I touch you?” He asks lowly, hands outstretched but never even grazing your shaking shock-filled form. His thick fingers are all separated, the digits lightly curled inwards to the palm. Those hands. Would they even feel the same as they did back then? 

But did that matter? Neither of you was the same person anymore. Both of those people had been lost in the annals of history – their story was already over and done. The pages turned. Cover closed. 

Those two kind people had died. They were buried together under the ground, bones turning bleach white and wrapped in vines; nothing more than a ghost of a dream.

“Bird?” John whispers, his head tilting down to look at you closer as his chin bumps his chest. His feet move carefully as his hips shift and you feel his body heat like a noose around your neck. Your resolve was slipping, but it had already been fraying when you had first laid eyes on this changeling – this person wearing the Lieutenant’s face and eyes. 

John.

You nod without looking at his creased eyelids, and he slips you into his firm hold without a second thought. 

“Oh, c’mere, Love.” Standing heavily, you breathe in a deep breath as your head meets his chest, body wound tight. How many times have you dreamed of this? Finding him again despite all of it? It felt…wrong. 

You had been sure he was dead. How was he not dead? 

“Little Bird, I’m so sorry.” Your eyes widen, and a sharp gasp is ripped from your mouth; lips instantly begin to shake and pull tight. 

No, you want to scream, no don’t say that to me, John. Don’t do that to me.

But he mumbles it again into your hair as his hand cups the back of your skull, weakly swaying back and forth in this dim office surrounded by blood and death. His body is like a rock all around you, and as your arms rise to wrap around his waist, you hear his breath shutter down over your forehead; his lungs hitch. 

“I thought you died.” You hate the whimper that gets muffled by his shirt as you nuzzle into it. Hate it with a burning passion. When was the last time you had let yourself break like this? Left staining someone's shirt with tears and muttering fears into their chest. But this wasn’t someone, this was John – John had promised you he would come back for you, always.

And so John just holds you tighter and kisses your forehead. He lets you cry. He makes you feel safe where no one else ever could. 

The man – a triumphant Orpheus – keeps you close until you can breathe firmly again. Only then does he carefully peel back, and you catch a glimpse of his soft face. The face that you missed ogling as you walked beside him. His hands go to cup your cheeks, thumbs slipping to wipe away tears that clog your vision with his quick eyes falling to study your visage; you liked when John took care of you, even if you knew you could handle it yourself now. 

He made everything better. 

Peering into his eyes, you catalog the new aspects of his face as your breaths mingle, bodies close and intimate. He had more wrinkles than you remember, and his eyes were even more cold. John’s beard was perhaps the change you liked the most besides the nicely trimmed head hair. 

“MacMillan.” He grunts out and you frown as he continues with a sigh. One of his arms goes to slither around your waist, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t be separated for one more second. “He didn’t like that I was writing you, Love. Said I’d been too distracted. Must have stopped the letters from gettin’ out…bloody fucken’ bastard, he is.”

You hum, content for the first time in a long while. John’s chest moves against yours – pressing into it and making you ache with every fast puff of air. Noticing the rapid movement of his heart, you look deeply into his expression and find his pupils blown wide, a deep heat taking root around the room. 

“If I had known, I would have found a way to give ‘em to you myself.” Your body tingles, and your fingers dig into his skin from around his waist as your noses nearly brush. He doesn’t pull back. “You know that, don’t you? I’d have hopped on the first damn plane – shown up on your doorstep. Gear and all.”

“Now, I would have paid to see that, Captain Price.” He purrs, and the vibrations of his chest make your eyelids flutter. “Standing on my porch like a husband who came home from war. Pity.”

Chuckling breathly, you can’t help but giggle back, leaning into his hold on your cheek. You don’t remember ever feeling this happy. 

A moment of stolen breaths and wandering touches ensues; beating hearts that make muscles writhe and inner tensions reach a breaking point. Finally together again after so long apart – there were so many things to say to each other. 

“Hm, Love?” John mutters as his nose bumps yours, making your head lightly tilt to the side to make his lips brush yours with every panted gasp. You lick your lips and accidentally slide your tongue against the side of the Brit's mouth; you watch his eyes darken with a smirk. 

“Yes?” You wonder aloud, eyes hooded, and his gaze narrows on you – a blatant enticing accusation making John’s skin thrum with electricity. 

“Can I kiss you?”  A breathless grumble. 

“Yes.”

Your lips meet with a clash of hellfire and a song of lust, sparks like jumping embers lighting across lit flesh. Digging into his waist, you enjoy the way John’s ribs flare with large lungs as his teeth clatter into yours, the way his grip on your face trails to your neck, digging and making you gasp into his mouth when he slightly presses into your pulse point. 

He chuckles pridefully before reconnecting his face to yours, feeling your heart pound outside of your body. The two of you were so close to one another that it was nearly like you were trying to melt into one being – an amalgamation of calluses and milky scars; violence and unspoken words. 

The both of you had been waiting for this for years. Ages.

A swipe of his tongue over your lips and suddenly your mouth is wide open, letting the muscle delve into you before retreating once more; leaving strings of saliva as you let him separate. Face hot and breath panting, you both stare at one another with swollen lips, red and bitten. There’s a small moment of quick inhalations and banging chests before your nails suddenly dig into the small of his back, dragging him forward once more as he heaves under your hold. 

No need for talking, you could get everything you wanted to say across just by how you bite into his bottom lip, how your knee brushes his crotch and leaves him jolting into you. Groaning into your mouth. 

John’s fingers kneed your flesh, every brush like a cattle prod. Without even realizing it, both of you had started to back up, your feet skimming the floor as one of your hands went out behind you to connect with the desk edge. 

“Lift.” You mumble into his mouth, and not a second later the man’s large hands grope at your thighs, squeezing once before he effortlessly manhandles you upwards. Your legs spread and go to wrap around his waist, locking at the ankles and producing a deep churning in your gut.

When your backside lands on the desktop, your lips have traveled to lay nipping kisses on John’s neck and under his ear; hand now over his abs and dragging down while your nails leave him shivering. He grunts and clenches his jaw when you bite into his flesh, the delicious tickle of beard hair brushing your nose as you watch with feral satisfaction upon the flush on his complexion. 

The Captain’s hands run up and down your hips fervently, mapping out the flesh above your loose sweatpants. Before long there’s the feeling of pressure forming above your core, a deep imprint of tented cargo pants leaving a familiar feeling of passion leaking out into your panties. The both of you were utterly addicted to the other. 

“Eager?” You breathily wonder, teasing, leaving another hickey on John’s pulse point as he side-eyes you with blown pupils. Your gaze only catches a flicker of a smirk before his hands suddenly bore down into the skin of your thighs and his hips cant into your core. 

Gasping out a moan, your fingers twist into his shirt, face falling onto his shoulder. 

“J-jerk!” You keen, face hot, and mouth open to help you suck down air before he does the same motion again, liking how you look when his erection rubs the right spots. Shaking, you feel John leaving hot open-mouthed kisses on your skin, beard coarsely stimulating your already warm skin. Under his unrelenting hold, your legs quiver to try and move faster.

Smug bastard, he was enjoying this.

“Now, then, who’s eager?” A confident superiority was stuck to the tone like the slick was making your underwear stick to your slit. It felt dirty, but you liked when he talked like that – tried to use your words against you as his own pleasure was making him go slack-faced. 

How would it feel to have him moving inside of you? Leaving you sobbing from pleasure as your shared release dripped over the floor and his veins caught your ridges just right? 

Your back arches into him, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling as his hand presses into your tailbone to angle you upwards into him as he groans into your shoulder and stutters his animalistic pace. The feeling was unlike any other you had experienced; you could feel the electricity every time he stimulated your clit, leading to involuntary jerks on your part and thin breaths. There was barely time to suck down air over the lightheadedness. 

“I-” Your voice cuts as cold wetness slides down your folds, and you shiver despite boiling. “I think you’re the one rutting into me like a bitch in heat, John.”

“Well, you’d be right,” he growls, and your fingers slide down his shirt before you can slip into his pants. The Brit sucks in a sharp breath and his other hand, once on your thigh, goes to slam onto the desktop in a quick motion when you play with the strap of his boxers. “Fuckin’ minx.”

You smirk, angling your head to the side to watch his normally stoic face begin to break when your nails trace the trail of hairs that lead down. Close but not close enough to where his cock strains violently; twitching as the telltale leak of precum stains his underwear and pants. You doubt your appearance down there is any better. Everything sticks to each other so tightly that you were slightly worried your desk would need a deep clean. 

John’s eyes are closed tightly, teeth clenched tight when your nails trace circles along his prominent ‘V’ line while his abdominal muscles tighten to an attractive degree of internal yearning. Around his waist, your legs are vibrating with eagerness, your skin so sensitive it was like every nerve was being fired. Oh, you liked that look on his face more than anything.

“You’ve got to say it, Love.” You watch as his biceps tighten and strain, hand over your desk clenching into a fist behind you. Your hand dips lower in his boxers as your core begs for something to fill it – anything to make the cum drip out of you and give overstimulated aftershocks. Your other limb goes to pop the front button of his cargos as your sweaty face angles itself to connect your nose with the Captain’s larger one, smashing against it desperately. “Open your eyes, John. Tell me what you want me to do.” 

Breathing over his visage, he flickers his eyes open with a small struggle and you almost moan at the heaviness of them as they gaze at you. He says nothing to you, but his digits at your tailbone leave their position to mirror your own actions. Your confidence stutters when John deftly pulls at the string and slips his rough pads under your panties, stopping on your body where you wait on his. 

Your eyes slightly widen and your heart beats impossibly faster. 

So that’s what this is…some kind of cat-and-mouse game? Alright.

The desk is uncomfortable under you, but you find you don’t even care anymore. Staring into John’s unblinking eyes you raise a brow. 

“Not saying anything?”

“I’ll leave it to you. Do what you wish, Princess.” Your fingers experimentally skim to the base of his cock, playing with the hairs and feeling his fingers mirror, stopping just above your aching clit and barely touching you. This would be easier with the clothes off, less awkward angles if you would just fuck each other like you both desperately wanted. Raw and fast, no time to breathe before starting another round to make up for lost time until the two of you were too tired and sensitive to even rut into each other without passing out. But the two of you were too currently obsessed with battling wills – this was a game that made you even wetter, and him harder. 

But, fuck, it physically hurt not to have his dick inside of you right now. Maybe a substitute could work? 

Your fingers grip him inside his boxers, and before you can laugh at his throat-strangled moan of carnal pleasure, his own are delving into your drenched heat relentlessly. 

“Fuck!” You whimper, hips jerking as your mouth falls open, eyes rolling back. He has the audacity to steal your laugh from you and throw it back as it puffs out over your cheeks. 

When John feels the drowning wetness stemming from your slit and he curls his digits, he can’t help the vile smirk that infects his lips; a raised eyebrow, and a comment on his hot breath.

“All this for me, hm?” You don’t answer, too lost in the blue of his eyes and the sparks that emulate at having another living being pulsing over your tight walls. 

“S-shut it.” Groaning, you pant trying to move your hips before he growls in front of you, making you pause as your hand around his cock twitches.

“None of that, now.” There was no amusement in his eyes, but a steel-like determination and a demented tilt of his head as his forehead connected with yours. “We’re gonna help each other, yeah? Make it a little game of who can get off first. Can you do that for me, Dear?” 

Where has your confidence gone? Has it leaked out of you? 

You whine as your eyes crinkle, desperate for something on your clit despite the feeling of being stuffed by two of John’s large fingers. John frowns, and his thumb hits the perfect bundle of nerves like he could read your mind. Writhing, you feel your eyes wet with pleasure-tears.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your mind is going so fast that it’s blank, only able to focus on John and how his hips sputter to try and fuck himself on your hand. He was just as needy as you were, skin flushed and muscles tight under his clothes.  

“C’mon, Love.” He groans, nipping at your wet and red mouth and pulling at your lip as his calluses rub in small sparking circles, trying to get you to respond. Your hips careen forward to chase him. “Where’s my sweet Little Birdie gone, eh? She’s so wet for me, can’t have lost already. Listen, now, okay?” 

He begins to fuck you with his fingers, moving painfully slow in and out, pushing and prodding as you moan and gasp when he runs over the tense walls. But you do listen – God, how couldn’t you? 

“You hear that?” Your eyes widen and your hand tightens over his cock like a vice. Your own cunt was so soaked that every motion of John’s fingers made an obscene squelch, and your walls tighten in retaliation around him as he groans deeply, feet shoulder length apart. “There she is.”

You match his pace with your hand, collecting his precum at the tip and spreading it down the shaft as you both get each other off with fast breaths and locked eyes. 

“T-that’s a girl.” John can’t help the way he moves faster, eager to release the strain on his balls, his fingers rapidly moving and thumb pressing tightly as you squeeze around him. “Fuck.” He growls, hunching over you and taking a peek down to where your sweatpants and panties strain to hold his hand inside as you work him. “Fuck,” he repeats, “such a lovely fuckin’ cunt of yours. Grippin’ my fingers like a damn noose, you are. Can’t wait to—”

A strangled whine breaks through his clenched teeth when you twist your hand, creating a rhythm of your own that makes sweat break out on John’s forehead. 

“Bloody…” his head falls to your shoulder, where you lick and bite at the side of his ear with hard teeth, thighs burning as you jump every time his thumb weakly stutters over your clit. Your ankles dig into his tailbone. 

“C’mon, John,” you gasp, sweat trailing your spine and soaking into your clothes as the sound of rabid slopping echoes off the walls along with loud moans and guttural grunts. “This is what you wanted, right?” He bites into your shoulder through your shirt. 

The Brit was close, you could feel it in the fast careening of his hips; the way his dick in your soft hand was twitching and covered in just as much wetness as your splayed slit was, where John’s fingers continue to spread you violently wide. But his motions had faltered, but still, that tightening in your belly was there even as he slowed at his impending release. Your pleasure stemmed from seeing him lose it under the twist of your wrist and the lick of your tongue under his ear.

His groans were getting louder, body hunching in around you as the desk knocked into his knees. 

“Little more,” you like the way his beard burns your neck flesh, how his body pulls you even tighter against him so you won’t take away his climax at the last second. “C’mon, let me feel it.” He gasps and twitches a whine stuck deep before it is expelled from his lungs as he shakes like a leaf against you. 

He shoots his cum down to stain his boxers and cargo pants and you look down in a daze to look at the patch, but his locked fingers inside of you involuntarily curl all the way up, pressing into that spongy spot as you clit it pinched so tight your eyes widen. Before you can stop it, you're moaning out loudly and breathlessly, back arching and releasing just like that. Spazaming, it’s cutting through you like a knife, filthy stickiness coating John’s hand in a thick layer in an instant as your walls clench.

The both of you shake into one another, bodies coated and clothes wreaked – fingers and hands not willing to part from the other's wreaked pants. 

Whining, you force your flicking eyes open and feel John breathing heavily into your neck. Sucking down fast breaths, you lick your lips and state, perhaps a little smugly, “I…I win.”

A panting moment of sweat-coated silence. 

John starts laughing, deep bouts of shaking movements that make you follow. In the dim office atop a ruined desk, you both lean into one another, clean hands digging into the others’ clothes and hair. The lingering pleasure was addictive. 

“Fucken’ hell…yeah, Love, guess you did.” The brown-haired man pulls back, and your hand falls from his cock and lands in your lap. You unlock your ankles and shiver when his fingers brush inside of you when he takes them out, teasingly running over your overstimulated clit and huffing, amused when you whimper pathetically and slap his hand away. Glaring, he smirks and you roll your eyes. Raising a brow as sweat falls from your nose, you shift over the wood and stare at John as his hidden emotions wash over you in the form of blue water.

You can’t really think that I’m done with you? You want to say.

“What do I get, then?” Your thighs twitch, legs still splayed around his wide hips. He frowns teasingly.

“What’s that?” 

“I won, didn’t I?” Staring intensely, both of your hands go to hold you up behind you, leaning back so you can place weight on them. Already, your slit is aching again, your navel pounding as the room smells like sex and messy release. “I want a prize.”

“That how it works, then, Captain?” John sighs, crossing his arms and puffing his chest as your leg moves up and down his thigh, “You expect to be rewarded? Hm, you’re in the wrong profession, you are, Love.” 

“No,” you smirk, “I’m not.” 

Reaching, your fingers grasp the bottom of your shirt, feeling John’s eyes bore into your skin as you pull the article over your head and let it hit the floor. You hear his breath get shallow, and, disliking how the cum staining your lower body feels, you lift your hips and slide both your panties and sweats to your ankles with a quick motion.  

Looking up at John, you smile innocently, only clothed in a bra.

“Take off my shoes for me?” His blue eyes are barely visible anymore, black already taking over as his piercing look stays on your shiny cunt like a dog with a bone. You see his breath get shallow and the hard-on under his clothes once more grow larger. “John?” Prompting him to move, you take one of your hands and spread your folds. 

The man’s hands twitch, feet shuffling, but other than that he stays stone still until you speak once more, even if he’s almost physically vibrating at the sight of you. 

“I’ll let you clean me up if you hurry up and get my clothes off.” His large hands snap to your laces, untying them expertly and pulling them from your feet so they clatter to the ground. The remaining fabric follows. 

Giggling, your breath gets caught when John’s fingers trail up your ankle, his free hand going to lay firmly at your opposite knee. Using one of your hands you reach up and unclip your bra, slipping it off your shoulders. The reports on your desk are all most likely ruined – you’ll need to rewrite them tomorrow – but for right now you’re transfixed on the sight in front of you. 

John looks into your eyes and utters, “you sure you know what you’re doin’ Sweetheart?” 

“Take off your shirt.” You smile in return, your fingers going to slip into your eager cunt, still burning from John’s long-gone relentless digits. Your eyelids flutter at the fire. “And your pants. I wanna feel your muscles movin’ when your tongue cleans up my cum.” 

His chest is heaving like a wounded animal, and you whine when you curl your own fingers in your heat, wishing it was John’s dick. Fuck, you needed him to hurry up already. Your digits couldn’t satisfy you as he could – when you had been stroking him you had marveled silently at the girth, the sizable veins that pulsed in your grip when you squeezed. 

Watching like a hawk, John slowly moves and pulls off his shirt as you lazily fuck into your wet entrance. You spy his large pecs and nicely shaped waist as chiseled abs make your mouth water and lips part in soft puffs of breath. The coarse hair over him was the same shade as his beard, and you followed the trail with greedy eyes until it disappeared below his unbuttoned and stained pants. 

Your chest gets just a little bit together; cunt tightening dangerously.

“You’re droolin’, lovely,” John smirks down at you, “careful now, don’t wanna finish on yourself. Just makin’ more of a mess for me, hm? Naughty.” He strips off his pants and boxers, kicking his boots off, and you stare wide-eyed at the spring of his dick, noticing the way it hits against his stomach with a molten red tip. 

You would have gotten on your knees and sucked him off, but he beat you to it. 

The Captain forsakes his own needs and does as he’s ordered – he kneels to the ground and levels his face where your cum stains your skin and nudges your fingers out of the way. He begins to lick along your thighs as your wet hand goes to slick his hair back, gripping the strands and observing the phenomena below you with a slack jaw. 

Oh, hell. 

He stares at you as he does it, cataloging the flesh that makes you jump and the places that leave you shaking with need. His tongue sucks and bites, but never goes where you want it to, instead, he just spreads your legs farther and makes comments as you grunt above him.

“Such a mess, Princess…I’ll have to take care of you.”

“That’s it, Love, fuck my face – try and get off. Good girl.”

“Fuckin’ delicious, that is, eh? Here, have a taste.”

You’re left a shaking mess by the time the remnants of your orgasm are traded for saliva, his muscle slurping up every droplet without complaint as his fingers leave bruises in your thighs from how tight he has to hold them to keep the limbs apart. This wasn’t going to plan for you. 

Whining and whimpering, you ache for him, your lower body throbbing as more slick begins flowing. At this rate, he was going to suck you raw and leave beard burn all over your inner thighs. 

“J-John,” you plead, disheveled as your hand grips his hair tighter, biting into the brown whisps. You were going to climax without him even entering you.

“Hm?” He groans out, licking a long stripe over your entrance but never sinking into it. Your body shivers and jolts, chasing that friction but he moves away too soon. You nearly sob. No, no, no. I can’t take it. “What is it, then?” 

“Fuck me.” You feel the twist of his lips more than see it.

“Yeah? That what you want?” 

“I swear to God, John–!” He stands so quickly that you yelp, legs wrapping behind him as his arms go around your backside and hike you into his hold. 

Moaning loudly, you feel the press of his cock over your slit, whining and immediately trying to shift in his grip to attempt to slip him inside of you with a twisted face. But the Brit’s hand on the small of your back is tight, keeping you trapped against him. 

“Not yet.” He growls in his ribcage, and you connect his forehead with yours and force yourself not to beg as he narrows his eyes at you. But you're not a fool, you can practically hear his cock trying to move against your heat; his thighs quivering. “Fuckin’ hell – you’re impatient. Your whole squad like that?”

“You’re a damn tease.” You huff, rubbing and pressing your nipples over his chest hair to stop the throbbing in them. “Ruder than I remember. Didn’t even let the girl suck you off.”

“Then you’re gonna hate what I do next.”

Your confusion bleeds into your expression as he situates himself in your desk chair, leaning back into it with a groan and squeezing you in his arms. His dick slaps at your backside when he lets you go and just stares. Furrowing your brow, he tilts his head down at you as your arms rest on his pecks, playing with the hair there and tracing scars.

“Go on.” The Brit prompts with a tilt of his head toward you, a nonchalant expression on his face that makes him look more like he used to – outwardly not caring but studying every move and twitch of your body.

He watches you like a wolf.

“What?” Questioning, your head pulls back as your legs fall limp at his sides to dangle above the floor.

He huffs. “You said you wanted your prize – take it, then.”

“...b-but…”

“Go on. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

You glance down, utter exasperation showing on your face, “how am I supposed to…?” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out, Love.” John’s hands go to sit on the armrests, fingers swishing as they hang off the ends. Your face burns, annoyance filtering into your veins as your eyelids crease. 

Trying to prove a point, you stave off the awkwardness of the angle and shift upwards, using John’s broad shoulders as a way to lift yourself up. Taking a shallow breath, your breasts are shoved into his face when you free one of your hands, going to grasp him to line the joining up. You feel him distantly nipping at the supple flesh, his hands over the rests jerking as his legs open wider under you. When you grab him, he grunts, and your nails leave crescent marks on his skin as you clench your jaw as it rests on his head. Huffing, you jerk him off a few times to make his body writhe before, in one fell motion, letting yourself fall onto his dick. 

You both let out sounds that are more animal than human, deep wails and keens that shake the office walls. 

“Fuck, John,” you make noise like a damn porno, head slotted in his neck as you shake and jolt this way and that with rapid nerves that shoot down your arching spine.

He was tearing you open – ripping you apart with the spearhead that curves so deeply you struggle to breathe correctly. Jesus, was he in your throat? Gasping, you feel so full in such a unique way it leaves you addicted, your cunt so tight around John’s cock that the walls inside of you quiver with every small movement. When he gasps out breaths with his closed-tight eyes, you notice the way your body convulses, red-hot pleasure rocketing to your brain and pumping endorphins before clenching around him. 

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit, I can feel his goddamn veins digging into me! Your small mewls of pleasure spill out even as you both stay still to adjust. Sex had never felt like this before.

John spasms, hands immediately snapping to your thighs to keep you there as he wheezes. 

“Fuckin’....christ!” Blinking rapidly, you bite into John’s neck to ground yourself, hips rocking despite his pleas. “So tight. Squeezin’ my cock just perfect. Take it, Love. Fuck, c’mon, take it.” 

Your slick and his precum make it easier, the wet squelching once more resuming at a faster pace than before. You release his skin, intent on chasing after the orgasm building around this man’s dick that hits every spot like it was target practice.

“John, feel so good,” you moan, breathing loudly as the Brit watches you take him like it was nothing. 

“H-hell.” He groans long, hands helping you jump when your legs shake too violently every once and a while. He’ll have blood dripping from his shoulders from how hard you dig into him, but watching your cunt swallow him over and over again is payment enough as a ring of milky white forms at his base. “Look at you. Fuckin’ good girl. Keep it steady, now.”

“P-please,” you sob, eyes shiny as your walls ache – your needy clit was burning. John watches wide-eyed; blues boiling. “Clit. I need…” 

Trailing off you connect your lips to his when one of his thumbs goes to your nerve bundle, quickly working at it in tight circles that molds your lips onto a silent scream. John whimpers when your pussy clamps, his senses all covered in you – your scent and how your tits bounce so beautifully – a second later he can’t help himself any longer. 

His feet plant themselves to the floor, and he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth as his hips rapidly thrust, skin on skin the only sound above high moans and muffle pleas of release. 

It was far past words anymore, just feral animals seeking an earth-shattering orgasm at the other’s hand. Drool was slipping down both of your lips, splattering down chests and cheeks as sloppy kisses miss marks. 

So close. So close.

The snake was coiling, walls shaking and alternating between squeezing too tight and letting John hit as far into you as possible. You suddenly wail into his hot mouth, eyes rolling back when he angles his thrusts back towards himself as he slouches in the chair.

“There it is. Bloody bastard.” John hits it again, leaving you collapsing onto his chest as his hands go to wrap around your back, large arms using you to stay still as he pants ferally, eyes wild as they stare down at your blessed-out expression. Fuck, were you even able to speak anymore beyond whines and gasps? The clench of your pussy?

“Don’t worry, Love,” One thumb still plays with your overstimulated clit, making tears splatter his chest hair and get stuck as every sliver of skin that’s coated in sweat and joined slick. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah, I’ll fuck you proper later.” 

Your eyes roll back, back arching into him. God, was this not fucking you properly? But then again, John was a gentleman at the end of the day – his idea of proper was probably a bed and a glass of water on the nightstand. 

But this was so much better. The neediness of it, the emotional release besides the physical. John could fuck you anywhere at any time, as long as you got to hear him speak to you like that. Breathless, whiny like he never was and probably never will be outside the company of just you – even after being separated, you knew he was never one to do things like this.

“Tell me you’ll let me cum inside this cunt, eh, Love,” his accent is stronger as he gasps, raspy, with muted growls, before his head tilts back behind the chair’s backing. He speeds up until you were sure the chair was going to break in two, the material squealing. “Let me breed you like I always wanted to, yeah? Watch that spent cunt drown before I pump back in and stuff you full again. Please, Bird, let me…Let me…!”

You're about to lose it, hands raking down his chest and legs numb before you can gasp out a single sentence before the rope snaps.

“God, John, don’t…don’t let any go to waste.” You moan and slot your head under his jaw, feeling his beard bristles burn your nose when you finally let the snake strike. 

Freezing, your lower body jolts as if connected to an electrical line, walls constricting around the foreign entity inside of you as it continues to chase its own high. One firm thrust, two sloppy ones, before a groan so loud you feel it reverberate in your heart enters the heavy air. There is an undeniable fullness to your womb that shoots deeply into your being, splattering your thighs and staining John’s abdomen. From there it’s small instinctual thrusts as your ringing ears twitch at the sound of cum dripping on the floor. Panting, you can’t help the fucked-out way your mouth parts to release a satisfactory sigh at the feeling of euphoria in your brain and cunt. 

It felt like you were floating on air when John finally started rubbing a hand up and down your back, shaky fingers hard and sure as they trace old marks. 

Still short of breath, the two of you revel in each other's company with palpitating hearts and half-lidded eyes. Still slotted under his jaw, the brown-haired man mutters softly.

“New?” As he taps a bullet wound on your right side that’s been healed for years now. 

“Hm,” uttering softly with a hoarse voice, you smile weakly with warm cheeks, “old. Three years.” 

“...I have a lot to catch up on, then, yeah?” 

“Very much. But don’t worry, I’ll be patient.” He chuckles, making your form move with him. You take a deep breath, finally feeling yourself come back to earth, albeit on unsteady feet. 

A good bout of calming silence forms before you speak through a haze of fatigue. It had to be late by now – incredibly late. Maybe just using the pullout bed would be better than doing the walk of shame back to your barracks. John could join you here, you decide internally. 

“How did you know I’d even speak to you in the first place?” You ask as the man shifts under you, lightly lifting your black and blue thighs as you begin to whine quietly; he shushes you with a calm presence. Delicately pulling out, he lets his spent cock exit your red and swollen hole as more combined fluid falls from you to run over his hips and pool below. Resettling you, he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“The radio. You kept it.” You grin shakily, feeling him run his fingertips down your spine, finding more milky scars and caressing them with callused hands. 

You’d have to tell him all of your stories later, and in turn, he’ll tell you his. There was a lot to learn, but this certainly wasn’t a bad spot to start. Nuzzling farther into his neck, you sigh dreamily as his pulse sings you to sleep like a lullaby. Before you drift off you whisper out a reply that leaves John shivering. 

“...I guess I did, didn’t I?”

TAGLIST SIGN-UP || Here

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @antigonusyuki, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @lora21, @330bpm-whiplash, @michirulol, @john-pricee, @cl0wncxre, @jade-jax, @anna-banana27, @lothiriel9, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @bespectacledhuman, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @wolfyland07, @shoe1412, @jaimiespn, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaut2029, @shmaptin, @levietc

(if anyone has any idea why some aren't working I would love to know lmao)

[bihanspookies]

Was chatting with @chadillacboseman about fucking kuai liang, bi han and liu kang at the airport bc I was wondering how they got to johnnys house.

Like did they go on a plane or

Only to realize liu probably opened a portal but I like the airport idea better.

Anyway

Kuai Liang and Bi Han at the airport:

• I just know they’d both want to go in their bright ass uniforms and liu kang is like 🤨…no. He makes them change into civilian clothing (with their respective colors still) and bi han is bitching

• traveling for fucking ever and they got a layover in Chicago

• Liu goes to get them tea from Starbucks and thinks surely nothing can go wrong leaving the two of them alone

• Kuai Liang is fine, he’s okay sitting there just waiting, people watching etc etc etc. Still intimidating looking let’s be real

• Bi han is sitting with his arms crossed, grumpy af, perma-scowl on his face and you just so happened to be sitting across from him trying not to stare but you’re like 👁️👄👁️

• You think ‘boy oh boy I hope they’re not on my flight’ as you subtly not so subtly try to look at them

• They know you’re looking

• Liu kang finally returns with their drinks, bi han takes one sip and says it tastes like shit and then they start calling to board the plane

• You’re first class bc yes bitch 💅 but then you see them also getting up

• You board, all is good and dandy, middle seat unfortunately but that’s okay. And then you see the two of them come to your aisle and you just 🧍‍♂️

• Squished between two muscular men, trying not to bother either one of them

• Don’t even bother looking out the window bc bi han brings the visor down, wanting to try and get some shut eye. He doesn’t.

• They start speaking a different language right over your head, you just so happen to know it’s either Cantonese or Mandarin (it’s Mandarin). The one in blue clutching your shared arm rest so hard that you swear he could snap it off. The one in orange shaking his head and rolling his eyes. But you keep picking up the words ‘Johnny cage’.

• Like the actor?

• Time for snacks and you want the bag of pretzels, ready to claim it when the attendant asks what would you like

• Unfortunately bi han also wants the pretzels and just straight up demands it, grabbing it past your nose and ripping the bag open

• You give him the side eye

• The rest of the flight is unbearably awkward, doing your best to make yourself unseen and just listen to your tunes until finally you land in good ol LA

• luckily you’re close to the front of the plane but unluckily you gotta wait for orange brother to get up first.

• He helps you get your bag down ✨

• Bi han grouches at him to hurry tf up

• You eventually scurry off the plane and watch the two of them and the liu kang make their way down the walkway and quickly out, wondering if comic con had come early this year.

Bonus:

• kuai Liang stops at every gift shop because he wants to look and bi han bitches at him to hurry tf up

• “we have no use for this bauble, kuai liang.”

• “But brother—“ *holds up keychain that says ‘all I got is this stupid keychain’ and walks to the counter* it’s for tomas who couldn’t make it.”

• if they eat at the airport restaurant bi han treats himself to margs and kuai Liang plays the little tablet games

• bi han also beefs with an 8 yr old who looks at him funny

[frenchiepal]

chaotic academia things i witnessed with my own eyes👁️👁️

a dude working on an assignment in the middle of another class

"what else is going to keep me awake if not cocaine?"

red eyes from all nighters

taking so many voluntary courses you forget about your major

the introduction of meme Thursday™

"ever noticed how the prof has like super muscular calves?"

skipping class to work on several overdue presentations

conversations involving three languages

the hysterical laughter that occurred after the prof chose to abbreviate 'maximum prepositional phrase' to 'maximum pp'

[m4ctavish]

König — General Headcanons.

Masterlist.

Pairing : König/GN! Reader

Desc : Some general headcanons for everyone’s favorite mountain sized boy

A/N : könig my beloved :AGONY: (also, this was a collaborative effort between me and @callsignkonig because he is könig (real) )

König :

When he’s flustered/embarrassed, he’ll start mumbling in German. (his voice probably wavers a bit when he’s flustered and he avoids eye contact👁️👁️) Same thing happens when he gets excited, except he starts talking really fast

If and when he gets a partner, it’ll take him a bit to warm up to any sort of physical affection, meaning it’d take a bit to work up to holding hands and hugging but once you’re there, it’s his drug of choice (he loves cuddling or just being within proximity of his partner :SOB:)

Their presence alone is enough to comfort him when he gets overtly anxious and can’t sit still. Sometimes just rubbing shapes in to the back of his hand or pressing a hand against his face is enough to get him to relax

He doesn’t know his own strength sometimes and can unknowingly be a bit rough; he does he try to tone it down a bit, though, especially if you tell him. Can be surprisingly gentle and soft (he probably has super firm handshakes or super tight hugs to the point you’re just kind of like, “König, König! I can’t breathe-” he’s just excited to see u bro)

Fidgets a lot with his hands, especially when he’s flustered or nervous.

Will often play with his partners hands if they’re sitting next to him, either because of the reasons above or because he likes their hands

He is Not A Good Driver at all LMFAO (please do not let him within 2 feet of the steering wheel or you and him may spontaneously combust) Is he certified to drive a tank and other military equipment? Yes. Can he drive an actual car? No.

Would probably send full texts in German followed by a smiley face and a video or picture of a cat or any other animal (day made instantly)

Has a small field journal that fits in to one of his pockets that he uses to sketch scenery/the things around him. Helps take his mind off of everything when it gets just a bit too loud for him.

^ Alongside the headcanon above, he’d probably gift you a few sketches of various little things— could be an animal he saw, some scenery, or just one of you :)

Prefers staying inside and doing stuff w/ you rather than going out; it’s nicer when the two of you just have dinner together and either spend some time cuddling on the couch watching a movie/tv show or just talking about whatever comes to mind

His preferred nickname of choice for his partner is “Mein Liebling”— you could probably call him whatever you’d like as long as it’s endearing/adoring and not something demeaning

(if you don’t already know it) He’d teach you a few things in German and would love it if you taught him a few things in a different language as well (he just finds it interesting and maybe he just likes watching/listening to you talk 🤨)

HE’S JUST SO AAAA (i would die for him)

[nervousgardenerkid]

Private, not secret

a/n: me being happy cause my no sabo ass can finally start using the little spanish sayings i've learned/said throughout my life😭😭not sure how to feel about this or how it ended....just the thought of miguel coming home and COMPLETELY unwinding and being putty in ur hands....it does something to me okay?? i just wanna take care of him pls as always i hope u all enjoy this and credit to the gif owner! <3

warnings: none really! cursing, some spanish, (that's probs not good i'm sorry my luvs i wasn't taught my native language </3) miguel being soft then grumpy lol, not proofread (that's a warning itself).

no pronouns are used in this story and there wasn't any specific races mentioned so everyone can read!! i'll probs do a translation of the phrases i used later👁️👄👁️

There was one thing that was certain about Miguel O’Hara, and that one thing was how private he was about his life. It was no surprise to anyone at headquarters how private he was about his life outside of Spiderman. For all they knew, Miguel practically lives in his office. From the moment they stepped foot into the building, to the moment they walked out, Miguel would be there staring at the screens that were in front of him.

There was something different about today though. Something different about this week. It hadn't been the best week for any of the Spider-people down at headquarters, meaning it definitely wasn't a good week for Miguel. Anomalies were escaping, villains were destroying cities, and Hobie missed a morning debrief again, yet Miguel hasn't blown up yet. Not even a cold icy glare was sent their way.

“This is weird…” Peter mumbled to himself as Mayday crawled up his body, sitting on his shoulders giggling as he watched Miguel talk to Hobie calmly.

Gwen lowered herself down from the ceiling hanging upside down beside him.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

She flips over, landing on her feet effortlessly.

“Doesn't he usually start yelling by this point?” Pavitr asked, following closely behind Gwen.

Peter slowly nods his head, his eyes not leaving the sight in front of him, but widening more when he sees Miguel laugh at something Hobie says.

“Did he just…?” Peter mumbles quietly to himself

“Oh yeah, he did,” Gwen says while grabbing onto Mayday.

“Awe nah,” Miles said, swinging next to them.

“Yall remember when he tried literally killing me?! Ain't no way bros just out here laughing now.”

“Laughing with me too at that,” Hobie said while turning around and watching Miguel leave before facing his friends again with a sly smile.

“You all thinking what I'm thinking?” Hobie asked.

“We go home early?” Peter asked while taking Mayday back from Gwen, placing her in her carrier.

“We kidnap him for questioning-”

“We follow him home-”

“We leave him alone to bathe in his happiness!”

Four pairs of eyes all fall on Pavitr as soon as the words leave his mouth, causing him to nervously clear his throat.

“I’m just saying…maybe it's best if we leave him alone. I mean, do we really want Miguel to be angry and start yelling at us again?”

-

“I guess we do want Miguel to yell at us.”

Pavitr whispered harshly, earning four loud shushes as they hung off of a random building.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Miles asked quietly as he put his hands up near his eyes, peering into the window.

“Has to be,” Hobie replied with a smile as he grabbed onto Mayday who was crawling up to the roof.

“We followed him here ourselves!” Gwen exclaimed. “He has to be here.”

Peter gasps and ducks out of your eyesight, pulling down Gwen and Pavitr with him and shushing everyone.

“Oh my god, we should've listened to Pav-”

“Yes, you should have.” Pav cut off with a smile.

“This is someone else’s house!”

Miles whispered as he kept looking at the window, silently thanking the universe for his invisibility powers.

“Miles! Get down already!” Gwen said while looking up at him, but her words go into one of Miles’ ears and out the other as he watches Miguel walk into the home with a familiar scowl on his face.

“Wait! Miguel just walked in.”

Interest peaked from everyone as they all make their way over to the window, peeking inside and gasping when they see you jump into Miguel’s arms

“I don't believe it…” Gwen quietly said to herself.

“Huh, well that's something I didn't expect.” Peter followed.

“Oh, this is great! Miguel is in love with someone! Do you think anyone else knows? What about Jess? Or maybe even-”

Pav’s words are cut short when Mayday starts banging on the window when she sees the large familiar man her father works with. Gasps leave the mouths of everyone when they hear the exchange between you and Miguel.

“Miguel…why is there a baby sticking to our window?”

“Dios mío, pinche Parker…”

Peter feels his heart drop when his last name leaves Miguel’s lips. He reaches up ready to grab his beautiful daughter (and possibly say his last words to her) but grabs onto a chiseled face instead.

“Oi, he's a dead man now, yeah?” Hobie whispers to his friends.

Peter slowly looks up, giggling nervously when he sees Miguel's face in his hands still.

“Parker, let go of my face.”

Peter quickly drops his hands and starts stuttering over his words to explain why he's there with everyone until Miguel holds up a hand to stop him.

“You five,” he said, gesturing to the group. “In the house.”

The group wastes no time as they all swing into Miguel’s house carefully trying not to knock anything over. It's now that they take the time to look around his decorated home, smiling when they see pictures scattered along the wall. The place is nice, it screams Miguel and someone else, they just don't know who yet.

“Parker. Your baby, please.”

Peter looks back over at Miguel who stands perfectly still as Mayday begins to climb over him into the arms of a giggling you.

“She is just adorable! Mira que lindo, Miggy! Don't you just want to eat her up?”

Peter’s heart swells when Mayday giggles at your compliments, his eyes widening a bit when he sees Miguel smile at you.

“Yes, cariño she's cute, but I think she needs to go back with Peter.”

Peter steps forward with his arms out, chuckling when Mayday jumps into them. Miguel turns to face them all, ready to send them back home when he sees the looks on their faces.

“Fine,” he sighs. “Ask away.”

“Are you the reason he’s nicer now?”

“How long has this been going on?!”

“Does he glare at you when you mess up things too?”

“This couch is lovely. I have to know where you got it from.”

You laugh softly as questions are thrown your way a mile a minute. Miguel grumbles to himself as he walks over to the kitchen table, your hand in his as he drags you to sit onto his lap.

“You happier at work now guapo? Hm?”

The team collectively gasps when a pretty rose color makes itself evident across his cheeks as your hands run through his hair, tangling itself with the strands resting on the back of his neck.

“Mi alma...not in front of them.” he quietly whines while hiding his face on your shoulder.

“No way he's blushing right now,” Miles mumbles under his breath to Hobie.

Miguel shoots him a glare, his eyes glowing red as you let out soft coos and bring his head against your chest.

“Yah Miggy, cálmate por favor,”

You look over at the spider people standing around in your living room, getting up from Miguel’s lap and walking over to the fridge.

“Are you guys hungry?” you asked while looking over your shoulder and smiling at them.

“I didn't make enough dinner for all of us but I'm sure I can find something to cook real quick!”

“Amor, they were just leaving-” Miguel starts, but is cut off quickly.

“I could eat some food.”

“I'll take some water if that's okay!”

Peter walks over to Miguel’s food, grabbing a piece of food from his plate and humming in contentment when the flavors melt on his tongue.

“This is amazing! What seasonings did you use?”

Miguel can't even comprehend what's happening as everyone rushes over toward you, stealing your attention away from him. He takes a moment to let everything sink in as his eyes fall on you smiling and laughing while holding Mayday in your arms. His heart swells at the sight in front of him, feeling nothing but happiness at the fact that you get along with people he's grown close to over time. That happy little bubble he's in quickly pops when he sees Peter standing over the stove with Hobie and Miles, eating the food you cooked as if they haven't eaten in years.

“Please, have some. We insist.” Miguel said under his breath, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Fank…you!” Miles said with a mouthful of food. Homie and Peter followed him giving him a thumbs up with a smile.

Miguel takes a deep breath, his hands flying to his face pinching the bridge of his nose as he makes his way over to you while mumbling under his breath.

“No puedo mas, no puedo mas, no puedo mas.”

He smiles as Mayday jumps from your arms into his, his hands finding their way under her tiny arms as he lifts her into the air laughing with her.

“Do you really need your daddy Mayday? I'm sure you can stay with me and mi vida, no?”

Mayday laughs, her hands loudly coming together as she claps, then puts her hand into her mouth when Miguel settles her onto his shoulders.

Peter quickly gulps down the food that was in his mouth as Gwen lets out an awkward chuckle.

“Something tells me we’ve overstayed our welcome…”

Peter nods his head quickly, snatching Mayday off of Miguel and offering you a smile.

“Yeah, we should head out soon, pretty sure MJ is cooking lasagna tonight.”

The rest of the group walked toward the window they entered in, their heads looking over their shoulders waving goodbye to you as they thank you and hope to meet again soon. Miguel wraps his arms around you from behind as he watches them all filter out the room one by one, swinging their way back home.

He sighs and rests his head on your shoulder.

“Everything okay Miggy?” you ask quietly as you reach out behind you to play with his hair.

He nods his head, his arms squeezing you just a bit tighter as he starts to leave kisses where your shoulder and neck meet.

“Just tired cariño, even when I'm away from work I can't escape them.”

You chuckle and turn around to face him, your arms draping around his shoulders as you place a kiss on his cheek.

“They just wanna see what's got you so happy at work now guapo,” you whisper quietly. “They’re your friends and they love you.

Your hands come to rest on his cheeks, your thumbs gently caressing his skin. He leans into your touch, a small scoff leaving his lips.

“They aren't my-”

“They are your friends.” you lean up a bit to gently place a kiss on his lips, smiling when you pull away and watch him follow your lips.

“They're your friends and you love them, Miguel.”

He smiles, placing another kiss on you as his hand tangles itself in your hair, attempting to bring you closer to him.

“Fine,” he mumbles, pulling away with a smile. “They're my friends and I love them, but not as much as I love you.”

Your hands slide down to his chest and grip the shirt he's wearing, bringing him closer to you, ready to get lost in the feeling of him before a voice breaks you both away.

“Awe, we love you too Miguel.”

“Pinche cabrón- Parker! Go home!”

[via-l0ve]

Harry potter golden era and calling them cute nicknames in a language (pls dont specify which) that they don't know. They don't know the exact meaning but the understand it's something similar to darling or sweetheart.

Sentimental Nicknames 🩷 (HP Pref!)

a/n: hii!! i hope you enjoy this! i didn’t specify any languages and i tried to make it gender neutral!! love yaa🫶🏻🫶🏻

warnings: like one swear word, but that’s all!! <3

characters included: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy.

Harry Potter:

blushes every time you say it

he literally adores it

he’s so smitten for you and when you call him that nickname he might have LITERALLY zero idea what it means besides the fact that it’s endearing and he MELTS

when harry blushes the tips of his ears turn red and his cheeks turn pink and he just smiles like a little cutie

:(((

if anyone asks him about it

“hey, what does it mean? that nickname?”

“oh, i dunno really.”

he just smiles

he loves it sm

he deserves more love <3

he would def melt for any nicknames but there’s something about that one that just 🥰

Hermione Granger:

she totally looks it up in one of her books

I think she’d be intrigued and want to give you a cute nickname in a different language

she loves to hear you say it and will tell you that.

“i love it when you call me that, y/n.”

now you just say it more and she giggles and kicks her feet

if her friends ask about it she will deep dive into the origins and why you call her it and why she loves it so much and everything

Ron Weasley:

his siblings totally tease him about it

“look at little ronald! getting called a cute little nickname.” - george

“they grow up so fast :(.” - fred

he has ZERO idea what it means and just smiles when you call him it

he’s like “oh fuck yeah that’s my nickname” :D

he loves the way your voice makes it sound

he’s just so happy lowkey

like cmon

if you say it in front of his friends he gets embarrassed </3

but it’s not a bad thing i think he’s just like “oh, attention?”

Neville Longbottom:

BLESS HIM!!

he gets SO shy

he’s like

he deserves all the love.

esp if you say it and cradle his face/jaw in your hand and he gets SO RED

awwww

EVERYONE teases him about it :((

it’s okay though he’s so adorable for no reason

imagine this bb

he’s rambling about plants and you call him that and he just goes 👁️👄👁️

falls in love all over again.

awwwhhhhh i love him

Draco Malfoy:

i REFUSE to believe that draco is soft about nicknames

you’d call him it and he’d side eye you to the max

“what?”

you just smile and repeat it

he pretends to hate it but he rlly loves it

if you call him the nickname in front of his friends he’ll go BRIGHT red and become really interested in his shoes

you’ll just smirk

when you call him it in private he’s soft about it though

he asks you about it and just smiles

he’s a cutie (secretly)

[meafortuna]

ASTRO NOTES #3

Three for luck! 🍀 Take what resonates and enjoy it! 🫶

• Mars in Cancer and that theory about how passive-aggressive are they… I don’t want to be rude, but these guys are just aggressive. Really quick temper. Passive-aggressive is more prone when the native have Moon-Mars square, they are more indecisive when it comes to actions, that’s why their anger is not so explosive. Also i have noticed that Mars in Cancer many times have some strong Aries placement in their chart, like Sun. I will be glad if someone share their opinion on this one. ♋️☄️

• Venus ruled by Saturn (Capricorn and Aquarius) are late bloomers in love <at least that’s what people says>, but let me tell you something that i have observed. A big part of this Venusians fall for love real hard in their young ages, then get their heart broken and that can hurt them real bad, to the point they don’t even want to try again for a really long time. But days go by (sometimes years) and they start to think that relationships are not about love, but more about respect, friendship, compromises and etc. Which it’s absolutely true, one relationship wouldn’t be successful without this things, but it’s also sad, because this natives just don’t believe in the magic of love, that’s why people often times says “ugh, Capricorns are so cold hearted”. Well, they are not, they just don’t believe in fairytales anymore. So no, they are no late bloomers, they just start to want relationship with someone after a long time of not wanting it. ♑️♒️💙

• Uranus in the forth house it’s one of the bigest indicator for changing home more often than the others, or home life was unstable in some kind of way. 🌪️🏠

• Pluto asc or Pluto conjunct asc have always something dark when it comes to their appearance, most of times they have pigment shadows under their eyes or dark eyes. 👁️

• Moon in sixth house can be more prone to have insomnia or sleeping problems, also for them it is hard to follow some kind of schedule, a little bit lazy. 💤

• Why people keep trying to hide something from Scorpio Moon/Mercury?! I mean they just know when someone lies to them. Scorpio Moon have that strong gut feeling when there is something wrong, with Mercury all comes from their thoughts, their investigative mind works 10/10 times. 🕵🏻 Don’t lie to them, just don’t.

• If you want someone to love u unconditionally, you should look for a partner with fixed Moon and Venus sign, doesn’t matter if is fire or air sign. When they love someone, but only if they truly love them, there is nothing that can change their mind about the way how they feel for that person, really ride or die experience. Sometimes things can get a little toxic if you don’t give them the same amount of attention and time as the beginning. ♉️♌️♏️♒️

• I have never ever seen a Taurus Moon that doesn’t love and want luxury things in their life. Their sense of secure strongly depends of what is it in their bank account. 🤑For me this is the most goal oriented Moon sign, although they are such a sweet hearts and love to make biig presents for their loved ones, that’s their love language. 🫶 Imagine if the Moon is in 2nd house “double trouble” in a good way. 😁 But don’t let them fool you, sometimes buying expensive clothes, eating in nice restaurants or drinking the best wine in the list it’s just coping mechanism for something going on in their emotional life. So give them your support more often. ♉️🌖

~meafortuna 💙

[josephquinnswhore]

could you do a little fluff of pedro (or any of his characters) x plus!size reader where reader buys new lingerie for his birthday and he's like lemme take a picture and he takes a polaroid pic and sticks it in his wallet and then they go out with friends and one of his friends for shits and giggles takes his wallet and sees the picture and they're like "👁️🫦👁️ wow she's hot" and he gets jelly

ilysm kisses 🫶🏾

Polaroid

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female-plus size reader.

Summary: an image meant for Pedro’s eyes only, ends up being seen by curious eyes who make inappropriate comments.

Word Count: 2.2k

Content Warning: lewd language, Pedro being horny as fuck, taking nudes, Pedro swearing/getting jealous. Slight smut but not really, unprotected p in v but no actual sex.

Note: THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST. I’m a plus size person myself so I’ll divulge into this so hard. 🫶🏼

Through the years you’d always put a lot of thought into Pedro’s gifts, whether it be a sentimental gift, such as the hand painted family portrait of him and his sisters you’d gifted last year for his 47th birthday. Or something he needed but would never tell you he needed. He didn’t need to tell you, because you always listened and figured out simply by listening; such as a new laptop during covid lockdown so he could do interviews via Skype and Zoom call.

This year, you were stumped. You figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask Oscar to help you with what to gift Pedro. You FaceTimed him, his warm smile is the first thing you’re met with, his messy mop of dark curls fell onto his forehead, some grey hairs visible through the bad lighting. “Hey Osc, I’ve got a favour to ask.” His eyebrows shot up In curiosity. “Go on.” He encourages.

“I don’t know what to gift Pedro for his birthday, he’s made it entirely impossible this year. No hints, no nothing.” Oscar raises an eyebrow, “you, the best gift giver doesn’t know what to give her boyfriend for his birthday?” You bit your lip, embarrassed as you walk around throwing some pieces of rubbish in the bin, trying to keep your mind busy as you stress about this present, with only 7 days until his 48th birthday, you felt your blood pressure rising as the days came closer and you still hadn’t gotten him anything.

“I know, I know. Can you help me or not?” A mischievous smirk crawls onto his lips, something that had your suspicion spiking. “What are you smirking at Oscar? Tell me what you’re thinking.” He shrugs casually, “get some lingerie for him, do a sexy photoshoot or something.” You bite your lip in uncertainty, “are you sure it’ll be good enough?” The older man huffs, “you’re joking right? Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

You hum, deep in thought as you realise Oscar’s right, Pedro does love your body, your curves and perfectly natural breasts, the cellulite on your rounded ass cheeks. The way he can grab handfuls of your thighs and how they feel wrapped around the back of his head as he dives face first into your cunt, he even loves the way your soft tummy slightly hangs over your pubic bone.

“Hey, you still with me?” Oscars voice snaps you out of your trance, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to try something new, if Pedro didn’t like it, which was unlikely, you’d know for next year, and bonus, you’d have a new set of lingerie. “Uh yeah, thanks Oscar I gotta go, bye!” You quickly hang up before he has the chance to say his farewells. Lingerie, it’s gotta be sexy, accentuate your curves and be the best gift he’s ever received. You pull your hair up into a messy bun before making a beeline straight for your car, keys in hand, jingling as you speed walk, eager to get to the shops.

The lingerie shops ambiance is unmatched, the pink neon sign drew you in, once you were in you didn’t want to leave, the golden hue of the light was soft on your eyes, the faint scent of rose water had been spritzed into the air with the fan circulating air around the small store, the quiet hum of a SZA song played from the small portable radio that sat on the wall shelf behind the counter.

There were so many options, too many colours and plus sized inclusive sizes. The shop attendant approaches you with a smile, “can I help you at all?” You smile nervously, “yes please! I’m wanting a new set, for my boyfriends birthday. Has to be super sexy. It also has to be purple, that’s his favourite colour.” You explain meekly, your cheeks reddening at the fact you’re telling all of this to a stranger, she leads you to a section of purple garments, all stunning in their own right. “He’s one lucky man. Do you need help with the sizing?” You tell her your size, she flicks through and finds all purple items in your size, stacking them on the front desk. “You can flick through them or feel free to try them on.”

You pick up the first set and hum uncertainly, feeling like it was not what you wanted, the material certainly wouldn’t cover much at all, you wanted something with more coverage. The second set was nicer, but still not something that wowed you, the small silver studs were definitely too much in your opinion. The third set you picked up you gasped, the colour was beautiful, rich and thick in the back of the bra, it had 5 clasps which would offer more support, it had harnesses that would look sexy with some stockings clipped to the harness. It had a stunning chest piece that would expose your cleavage and make it look sexy, the lacey material would would look beautiful on your skin.

“Can I try this on?” The lady smiles, “please! Go for it. Our dressing rooms are just to the left here.”

You underestimated how good you would look in this piece of lingerie, it made your hips look bigger, your curves softened and your breasts looked incredible, not to mention how nice your assed looked. The purple on your skin tone was like it was made for you, you felt sexy and knew this was the one.

“I’ll take this one, thank you.” As you return to the counter and set the lingerie down as she scans it, you pay the $120 on card and smile as she puts it into a paper bag with the store name on it. “I know he’s going to love it. Good luck!” The lady farewells and you thank her for her help before sitting in the car, all these scenarios running through your head about how Pedro will react.

“Happy birthday baby!” You cheer as Pedro steps into your apartment, the house smelt delicious, you’d cooked his favourite meal, the food simmering and getting to be plated. The room was littered with purple and silver balloons, red rose petals led down the hall to the bedroom, the scent of just blown out bubblegum candles lingers as the wick starts to smoke. “Thank you baby. Look at this, it’s incredible.” You pull him into a hug, squeezing your arms around him as his scent swirls up your nose and makes you inhale. “This isn’t the gift baby, it’s in the bedroom. I’ll get it for you.” You offer, rushing to the bedroom and know you need to move quickly, you’d practised a few times over the past couple days knowing you had a time frame of a few minutes before Pedro got impatient.

You pull your nice dress off and throw it into the hamper, setting up the balloons nicely and the love heart shaped rose petals on the bed, setting the candles alight, you slip your heels on and open the cupboard draw to set up the Polaroid camera so it was facing you. “Baby, you okay?” Your heart races, you need to finish up, now. You take your hair out and let it fall down, sitting up as you lean your weight on one hand behind you, setting one knee up on the bed, you let the other fall flat. “Actually baby I could use some help if you don’t mind.”

Your heart is in your mouth as you hear his footsteps near the bedroom, the squeak of the bedroom door is deafening as he opens it. His mouth drops when he sees you, the purple lingerie that covers your body is looking incredible on your body and you know it. Pedro’s dark orbs are scanning your body, groaning as he sees the Polaroid camera, shuffling in the spot as his cock grows hard and awfully uncomfortable in the confines of his jeans. “Fuck baby you’re gunna kill me.” You hum and look at him through your lashes, something you know drives him crazy. “Looking so fucking perfect for me, this is all for me hm baby?” You nod, “all for you Pedro.”

He picks up the white Polaroid camera and steps back, snapping the image of you posing, capturing the decorum of the room, “I love you so much.” He moans, his fingers gripping the image as it prints out, he was quick to snap an up close photo of you smiling, eyes closed teeth baring, he knew this would be his favourite.

“Let me see those perfect tits baby.” You lie down on the bed, your back being itched by the rose petals. He snaps a few pictures. “On your knees, honey.” You obey him and stretch your arms out toward the pillows, arching your back and raising your ass in the air, a grunt leaves Pedro’s lips as he smacks your ass, your gasp turns into a moan as he smacks your other asscheek, pushing yourself further back towards him. The camera snaps a few pictures, the redness of his handprint visible on your asscheeks. “So fucking perfect.” His thick fingers play with the small amount of fabric, getting a good look at your weeping cunt that’s soaked for him. “Fuck baby you’re dripping, roll back over.” You roll into your back, your hair sprawled onto the bed underneath you. Pedro, with one hand unbuckles his belt with a groan, undoing his jeans to relieve the tightness that caged his hardness.

He pulls your lingerie covering your cunt to the side, getting a perfect look at you. He palms himself roughly before pulling his underwear off entirely. Pulling his shirt underneath his chin. He slides his thick cock into you, your body squirming at the feeling, “fuck-so fucking big Pedro.” He groans, only pushing himself half way into you, before wrapping one large hand around your neck and takes a photo with the other hand, of his cock inside your cunt, hand wrapped around your neck and your perfect body clad in this purple lingerie.

“What about dinner?” You whimper, hearing the whir of the camera printing the obscene image. Pedro tosses the image along with the others onto the bed beside you, along with the camera. “Dinner can wait baby, I gotta have you. So fucking perfect. This is the best birthday gift ever.”

You would have to thank Oscar for the advise.

Two days later on the weekend was when everyone was out at a bar celebrating Pedro’s birthday, they had all insisted on spending time with him, Oscar had rallied some old and new friends of his, the bar jam packed and booked to yourselves thanks to Oscar.

The music was loud and you were having a great time, catching up with some old friends. “Hey honey, can I get you another drink?” You finish your beverage, the alcohol making you a little lightheaded, your bladder begging for release. “Sure baby. Just gotta duck to the toilet. I’ll be back.” You kiss him on the lips, missing his warmth and taste as soon as you pull away, shimmying through the crowd of drunk friends.

“Hey man, I’ll just get another beer and a cocktail.” Pedro leans against the bar, knee bent as he pulls his card from his wallet, paying for the drinks. “Hey man. Whoa, I gotta see this.” Oscar snatches Pedro’s wallet, Charlie Hunnam steps behind him, “dude no way.” Pedro leaves the drinks on the bar, “Oscar, give it back man.” Charlie huffs, “you get to have that all to yourself, so unfair, she’s so sexy.” They pull the Polaroid of you out half way trying to get a better look, Pedro’s hand is wrapped around your throat and thankfully they don’t pull it out entirely, the thought of his friends seeing him inside of you was too much. He didn’t need them seeing you like that, exposed and taking him perfectly, he didn’t want them thinking of you like that, or getting any ideas.

Pedro snatches the wallet back, pushing the Polaroid back into his wallet and shoving it into his Jean pocket. “Don’t ever touch that again, you hear me?” Pedro growls, his jealous getting the best of him as he turns around to pick up the drinks, they throw their hands up in surrender, “we’re cool man, alright.” You walk up to the bar and press a tipsy kiss to Pedro’s lips, he hands you the drink and you sip, groaning at how perfect it was made. Pedro’s free hand grips your ass and gives it a tight squeeze.

“Oh, hey guys!” You didn’t notice the two men standing there at first, they were watching Pedro claim you, his possessiveness shining through even though he knew you’d never do anything to make him worry. You were just incredibly sexy and that image wasn’t for their eyes, you were his and only his.

You turn back to Pedro and a drunk smile sits crookedly on your lips. “Happy birthday baby.” You whisper. Pedro pulls you into him and he kisses you, he moans into the kiss as if it were just you two, as if the bar wasn’t full of his family and friends. You hook your finger into the belt loop of his jeans. Throwing the glass back before licking your lips seductively, “what do you say we go home handsome?”

Pedro only nods, giving his friends a lazy smirk and a wink as his hand rests on your ass on the way out of the bar.