thisfanisgonesorry - Tumblr blog

[thisfanisgonesorry]

hi chat idk whos seeing this ^_^ but an update post that i have some drafts but expect more rdr2 stuff and some batman content soon cause im getting back into the arkham games and im REALLY enjoying ss:ktjl :3

(once i have my pc back ill probs post some gifs/screenies at @arklayasylum !)

[thisfanisgonesorry]

a fine night of debauchery — arthur morgan

“And still we wait for the right etiquette on how to politely rub one out under the table. I’m starting to think you don’t really want to help teach people good manners at all.” — Roger Clark  tags: poker night in saint denis, smut, handjob, public sex, light exhibitionism, edging

💸 He’d insisted his prized possession was to sit next to him, the chairs touching and his arm wrapped around the small waist; ‘You’re my lucky charm’, he claimed as the table of men glared at Arthur, their jealousy making the air palpable, they were ready to grab the deeds and bonds, wanting to show off and do everything they can to bust the strange man from out of town.

One hand was resting on his thigh and I held his glass of whiskey with the other, my fingers wrapped around the rim and holding it to feel useful. His eyes were glazed with slight intoxication, he was winning, but he seemed bored.

My fingers splayed across his thigh and he shuffled in his seat, a silent question and my fingers trailed higher, resting over his bulge. He raised his hips slightly, pushing into my touch and I squeezed around him. His eyes fluttered and he licked his lips, gesturing for the whiskey.

I brought it to his mouth, his moustache wetting against the warm liquid and the subtle sound of his zipper being tugged down almost made him splutter and cough the amber all over his cards.

My hands dug into the fabric like they were looking for gold and he pushed the glass away with his wrist, then glared down at his cards with knitted eyebrows, chewing the insides of his cheek to shreds.

10 of Hearts, King of Hearts.

They started to throw chips around and he shuffled with an awkward laugh as my fingers wrapped around his length loosely, trying to bully my way through the small hole, my fingers brushing against the bottom-side vein, relieving a sharp hiss from him.

His hand from around my waist dug into his pants, wrapping around mine and tightening the hold, letting me feel the way he twitched to life in my grip. I slowly started to stroke his cock, and his hips shuffled again in the seat. “Watch it, girl.” He warned, trying to ease the teasing touch into something more.

“Sorry.” I said faux-meekly when the eyes of the table watched us.

He cleared his throat, his hand lowered his cards against the table, and his other covered his face, trying to numb his reactions to the table. His cards were good, and his mind was desperate to focus on winning with them.

House put down the first 3 cards — 9 of Diamonds, King of Clubs and 8 of Diamonds.

He tossed a few chips to the centre of the table. His thighs clenched and he shuffled his hips again, trying to cause friction without causing a scene. “Might make you sit on my lap next time.” He huffed under his breath. Another sharp inhale and his hips could barely stay still, his face stone cold and the other men took the tense expression as his ‘tell.’

The chips were thrown loosely to the middle, the other men betting high, thinking they could bust the stranger out from the table (finally, someone else might win for a change) — he grunted softly, chewing at his lips and betting with them, he started to scratch at his stubble, masking his mouth from them. His gut churned as his orgasm slowly gained closer and closer to spilling over his blue shirt, and he felt in his gut that he could go high.

He tossed a few dollars worth of chips across, a few folding, a few matching the bid — then the house dropped the next card. 9 of Hearts. Arthur flicked his eyes to his cards and licked his lips with a low grunt, a slight smirk plastered his face, his hips bucking into my touch when he saw the house. One pair.

His hand dipped to his pants, holding my hand to slow the pace despite the antsy thrill that clouded his vision. “Easy.” He whispered; “We’ll be done soon.”

“Promise?” I offered the whiskey closer to him, and he took his hand off mine to take the glass, downing it quickly and the slight burn stung the back of his throat. He let out a short groan of ‘pain’ and placed it back onto the table, a quiet ‘thud’ and a wet ring forming on the table from the condensation on the glass.

“Mhmhm.” He nodded blankly, his eyes forming that far-away look as he waited, more chips were loosely flung around the table, and small talk surrounded them.

His fingers wrapped back around my wrist, halting my movements, his fingernails digging into the flesh and the vein from the underside of his heavy cock twitched and flexed against the sudden lack of stimulation.

5 of diamonds.

“Last one f’me, boys.” He announced it to the table, his voice as stable as he could make it, eagerly bidding high as his knuckles turned white around my hand, and all the cards flipped face-up, and all the chips were hastily pulled towards one Mister Arthur ‘Callahan’

I pulled my hand from his trousers and pat him on the shoulder with a chaste kiss on the cheek. He zipped himself up quickly, taking a moment to try and conceal his still aching erection, and then stood up, collecting the chips and getting the house to turn his earned chips to cold, hard cash. 

His hand wrapped possessively around my waist, salt in the wound, as he pulled me to my feet, then counted the money slowly, is there an idiom for more salt? Because right now would be the perfect time for it. He did a polite nod and half-salute. “That.. Was fun.” He said plainly, a lop-sided grin spread across his face as his eyes met mine. 

His light-heartedness was irritating to the men that lost their money, but they were missing what his words really meant. “Seems you’re too drunk to ride.” I commented innocently, fluttering my eyelashes, he huffed in amusement at it and agreed. 

He picked up his retired glass and sauntered over to the barkeep, placing it down. “Seems I am.” He nodded, counting through his rewards, idly tossing a few silver morgans into the cup.

A smug grin was plastered on his face, his hat aimed downwards to shield his features from the rest of the room, though his crooked teeth smiled from the shadows. He turned swiftly from me, his hand raised to shake down the barkeep.

“We’ll take a bottle.” He huffed, his hand squeezing the flesh of my hip. “And a room.”

[thisfanisgonesorry]

yall i hate to be that bitch im so sorry but im fuckin sick AGAIN and been really mentally bouncin' off the walls but i have a few sfw drafts (cod mostly??) floating around my phone notes app cause staring at docs is a bit too much rn and then im back to continuing kinktober (idc if it takes me 2 octobers im getting it fuckin done) and then im gonna tackle the 90+ draft pile i have going on

[thisfanisgonesorry]

i helped!! (not really)!!! SHOUTOUT TO MY BOOKIE WOOKIE GRR (tnx for lettin me steal ur copy of bg3 so i can snuggle w/ gale <3)

astarion x oc; unpleasant greetings

a/n; i love my tav so much that i had to write for her! depending on well this does i'll either post more of her or just keep it to myself (or post regardless). i would've preferred a gif from the actual cutscene but my saves don't go back that far. shhh, you don't notice. beta read by @thisfanisgonesorry my beloved (my other half who posts fics way more than i do. plugging my pookie.) cw; astarion and raen meet. it starts on the wrong foot (and ear). lots of projecting, racism, and elf slurs. astarion's pov. wc; 1396

You eye a figure in the distance. She loots a body half-assedly, stuffing some apples into her pocket. You recognise her from earlier, aboard the nautiloid. A feeling in your gut tells you that she’s one of those wretched people, the folk responsible for the tadpole wriggling around behind your eye. She doesn’t take notice of you, nor the pod beside you. 

A boar ran past you, and into the leaves ahead. It seemed to show no sign of leaving soon. Looking back at the woman, and to the animal, you wonder just how foolish she may be. That typical devilish glint in your eyes makes you decide; indeed she is. You doubt she’s any smarter than one of those malleable brain-things upon the nautiloid, maybe she’s one of them. You know she is - memories of her passing you, leaving everybody who was stuck in a pod, like yourself, to die. She doesn’t look guilty, instead content in acting selfishly, in securing her own survival.

You know just how this will go.

“Hello?!” you call out, and you see the woman’s head raise. Waving your hands frantically, you yell again. “Over here! Some help, please?”

You can see her tilt her head - trying to make sense of whether you’re being serious, that inner conflict of whether to help you or not. Even now, she looks doubtful, as if she sees right through your ruse. It makes you wonder if this plan was all worth it in the first place.

But it is - her boots tread through the sand and towards you, fur lining the tops of them. Her armour is clearly one of a druid, the details becoming more apparent as she gets closer. As she nears, and eventually stops, you can see her eyeing your figure the way you are hers. Two observant individuals.. observing one another. Green leaf tattoos adorned the outskirts of her face, framing her temples and trailing down her neck. Her hair went to her shoulders, an earthy brown middle part, green on the curtain bangs that framed her face not-so-fortunately. The tips of her elf ears peeked out through her hair as she stared at you, her left one a mystical blue yet clearly glass - a green tinge covered the sclera. Her right eye, which was actually normal, was a polite green, but the lightness of the both of them gave you that two thousand yard stare. 

A new scent filled your nostrils, almost indescribable at first - the type of wood used for a fireplace - except it smelt rotten by water, like if you gripped onto it too harshly, it would flake apart like dust.

The silence was almost unbearable by now. As her hair flowed in the breeze, she took the opportunity to speak first.

“Yes?” she said, her words breathy and smooth. “You alright there?”

Your eyes dart back to the bushes. “I think I have one of those..brain things cornered. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you did the others?” She seems to second guess herself, questioning her own kindness. It’s now that she chooses to take you in fully, to drink in your appearance that not even you know. The woman’s eyes darted from your ears to your face, gaze growing bitter as she realised who you are - what you are. Her aura was quick to turn dismissive, shifting her weight to be further away from you.

“Nup,” she said with a huff, a tinge of disgust in her stare, her pupils contracting. She gestured loosely towards you, “don’t help your kind.”

Your kind? You think to yourself. The hair covering her ears is swept away by the breeze conveniently, revealing her blatant insecurities. To you, it’s a bit bold - druid elves are awfully generic, and for her especially, it’s hypocritical. It’s enough to get a chuckle escaping your lips. 

“Awfully brave of you,” you respond, a smug look on your face. “Elf druids are as generic as humans over 6 feet being barbarians.”

She seems offended, her glass eye squinting more than her normal one. “Half-elf, actually,” she said, pointing her finger upwards, like a scholar correcting a student.

“Then more generic than a half-elf bard,” you scoffed. 

As her expression falters, you feel proud of this minor victory - but the feeling is short lived. Your hands fly to your temples, your eyes closing as you’re now seeing from a perspective that is not your own. Calm rivers, quiet forests, nature’s way at your fingertips. Then, a dagger spearing your eye. Your head pounds, your vision blurry as you come back to your senses. You grunt, pads of your fingers rubbing against your temples. “Gods, what was that?” Shaking her head, she gestures towards you loosely. “So, you have it too?” upon seeing your puzzled expression, she elaborates further, her tone condescending. “The tadpole, elf.” Despite the height difference, she speaks as if she’s bigger than you, better than you - like the human in her blood eradicates her of being anything close to the filth she sees you as. Relief oozes through your body like a thick, fuzzy warmth. “Oh, please tell me you know anything about these..wretched things!” Surely she should, right? If she wants to act smarter than you, she may as well be so. However, her lips stretch into a thin poker face, indicating the exact opposite. You huff, your nose scrunching in dismay. “Well then. Quite the useful ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

She rubs her lips together, opening her mouth but falling silent. The odd warmth that rises to her cheeks implies that she’s amused by what she’s about to say. “..I’m sure some sunshine wouldn’t hurt you,” she mumbles, holding back as much as a half-smile. You feign a shocked expression, even a dramatic gasp, but she can tell her words didn’t sway you one bit. She rolls her tongue into her cheek. You decide you can endure this - you’re better together than not, and perhaps she can help you remove the tadpole that wriggles around every now and then. The soft squelch of it brings discomfort, and you swear it wants to break out of your skull. This cold shoulder will wear off soon enough, you’re sure of it. If not, perhaps her hateful blood will make for a tasty treat. “Maybe we should—...” You hesitate as she grimaces - somehow, it feels like she knows what you’re going to say before the words even crawl out of your throat. Gods, are you that easy to read? Her expression doesn’t change, and thick silence fills the air between the two of you once again. “...Do you mind?” your words are sudden, drenched in annoyance. Her eyes widen, and she blinks, before exhaling. “Mm?”

You sigh, too. The dryness she radiates rubs off on you, a sour feeling swirling in your stomach. “I’m just saying, I think it’d be easier to get rid of this... thing, together. You don’t seem all too capable of survival, either.” “So,” she starts off, gesturing loosely from her to you. “You want to join me?” “That's what I said, yes.” You offer a hand with a forced smile. “I’m Astarion. I’m... not so pleased to meet you.” She pauses, rolling her tongue in her cheek. Her eyes slowly drag towards your hand, then back at your face. “Raen,” she replies, turning her back to you and starting to walk. “And put that stupid hand away.”

“Despite the bickering, I hope we grow to like each other,” you replied with a hum, that typical alluring tone on your lips.  Raen’s feet drag on the ground like a sulk. “Just because you’re journeying with me doesn’t mean I enjoy your company. Remember that, tree fucker.” You raise your hands defensively, the motion visible in the corner of her eye. It earns you a soft chuckle, that could pass as a scoff.

You roll your eyes, feeling smug in the fact she can’t see you do so. She kept a distance between the two of you, making an effort to always be a few steps ahead. You let it be, for now. No words are exchanged, only the quiet sounds of your feet in the sand. The tide goes out, the pod that held you captive long behind you - an element of the past, but also a reminder of the newfound burden you carry.

[thisfanisgonesorry]

when you sleep — alex keller

kinktober day 5: somno (dont ask abt day 4)

the desperation from being apart for so long

tags: smut, somno / sleepy sex, dubcon (w/ explicit consent), breeding, light cumeating, light cunnilingus, thigh fucking

💤

He walked into the apartment with an annoyed groan, dropping his bag with a loud thud and kicking his boots off. His body was tense and his eyebrows were furrowed, it took everything in him to keep his agitated mumbles to himself.

Getting home was delayed by a week which already had him on edge, there was nothing more he wanted than to come home, but then instead of getting home at a tame 6 p.m like intended, it was 3 in the morning and the one face he wanted to see would’ve already been fast asleep.

He stood above the bed, shucking off his uniform, his eyes stayed glued to the calm, sleeping figure of his lover as he threw the damned uniform to a corner of the room to be cleaned up after he’d got some rest.

He unzipped his pants and tugged them to his thighs before a curt ‘fuck’ hissed from between his lips. He kicked them to the side, the ball of his palm rubbing over his growing erection. 

“Baby?” He cooed sweetly, crawling into bed behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “Baby, wake up.” He pleaded with a kiss on the shoulder as his hardened bulge pressed into the soft curve of my backside.

“Mhm?”

“Angel, I’m home.” He sighed to himself, feeling the relief of some of the tension. I mumbled his name and attempted to roll over to face him but he kept me firm in place. “No, stay there.” He whispered.

He grinded his hips against me softly for a moment, there was no set rhythm and was based entirely on instinct and desperation alone. His hands fiddled with the hem of my shirt, resting on the soft skin of my stomach as he kissed my neck and shoulder, earning quiet, content hums in response.

His hands dug into the waistband of my underwear, tugging them down gently. “You okay?” He asked shortly, earning a nod and an affirmative hum. “Just let me—“ He pulled his own underwear down and slid his wet, leaky dick between my thighs.

“S’okay.” My hands found his and played with them as I slowly began to wake up, still drowsed by sleep.

“Missed you so goddamn much.” He pleaded mindlessly. “Hated fucking my fist. I’m so fucking pent up, angel.”

His hips started thrusting, dragging his dick against my thighs. “Ah, fuck, so soft.” He choked out, his grip on my waist tightening as he sped up the pace, methodically moving his hips to his own release.

He was overly sensitive from neglecting his own needs while away from home. It had been too long away, slight gasps, pants and whines leaving his throat at the movements. Too long since he felt the soft skin of my body — too long that he’d been able to touch me like this. He was writhing at the soft plush of my thighs wrapping around his needy dick.

“Sorry, not usually like this.” He gritted out, embarrassed by his desperation. “Gonna cum all over your thighs, baby.” He confessed with a scrunched up face, his forehead resting against my shoulder.  “Jus’ go back to sleep, baby, I’ll finish up.”

“Y’can fuck me.” I murmured into the pillow. 

He let out a soft exhale. “Yeah? I feel your pussy leakin’ all over my cock.” His breathing was ragged and harsh as he tried to keep his movements steady. “I’ll fuck you proper, promise. I’ll make it good f’you.” 

I let out a soft sigh and moved against him, the tip of his dick brushing against my bundle of nerves, the slickness coating his achingly hard erection. “Alex.” I breathed as a warning. “Jus’ fuck me.” My voice was doused in sleep, I leant back into him before lazily rolling on my back and tugging at him. 

“Angel, I don’t..” He took a sharp inhale before pressing a soft kiss onto my lips, his fingers trailing my jaw. “God, I love you.” He whispered, his original defiance melting away as he climbed on top of me.

He pressed a dozen or so kisses onto my face as he lined himself up. He rubbed the squishy head between the folds, groaning inwardly and enjoying the view despite the dim room. The only light was that from the ensuite, revealing just enough. His tip was a dark red, almost purple, from how much he needed this.

His hands were preoccupied, one languidly stroking himself while he felt the slickness coat his dick, and the other taking a handful of the loose sheet. “You fuck yourself while ‘ve been gone?” He asked, his voice was tender and soft; filled with adoration for the baby he’s missed so much.

“Mhm.” I spoke sleepily, gradually waking up despite my exhaustion, my eyes glued to watching him rub himself against me. “Only fingers. Wanted y’to come back wit’ me all tight.”

“Awh, honey.” He crooned despite the raggedness behind his voice. The tip caught against the hole and his eyes fluttered briefly before pushing in. “You’re so tight, angel, fuck — that’s a good girl.”

“Like that.” I whined out. “Love feeling you after you’ve been gone.” 

His response was quick, sharp and breathless. “Me too.” He panted, burying himself to the hilt slowly, letting both of us feel the stretch to its full extent, basking in it like morning sun. “Even after these months, you take me perfectly, sweet girl.” His voice choked out.

He reached hilt, his tip nudging against my back wall and his balls flush against my ass. He holds the position for a moment, causing a whine to drag out of my throat. “Al, baby, c’mon.” I pleaded gently, trying to shuffle against him.

“Stop, please.” He pleaded, his voice dropping to an octave that I’d never heard from him before — his muscles tensed, some of them trembling from the pressure. “I’m gonna cum, give me a moment.” He confesses with a string of whimpers, too enveloped by the feeling to bite them back.

I huffed in amusement, resting my eyes and sinking down into the pillows. “That needy?”

“Basically been edging myself for the last few weeks.” He joked dryly with a shaking voice. “Hated my hand so fuckin’ much, wasn’t enough, couldn’t..” He paused, trying to ration his breathing as I clenched around him, not entirely intentionally, he hunched over slightly as my body pleaded for movement. “Took too long to cum, so I’d give up.. Couldn’t fuckin’ do it, needed it to be you.”

His words were filthy, though they sounded like a love confession and in his own way, it was. He leaned closer to my face, pressing enough kisses to ease the pressure. 

“Let me take you.” He whispered. “Please, I’ll fuckin’ worship you after, but I’m so fucking— I need you, please, I need to cum.” He begged, he actually begged. This was a man that’d taken more lives than he can count, sent all over the world to kill — but here he was, begging after months of sexual frustration.

“Y’so pretty when you beg.” I teased and his hands twitched, his hands digging into my hips, crescent moon-shapes onto the flesh as he restrained himself. A whispered ‘please’ escaped his lips like a cherry on top, and I basked in the dominance for a moment. “What do you want?” 

“Want you under me. Been wanting your pretty li’l ass in the air, been picturing your pretty legs spread for me, showin’ me that pretty fuckin’ pussy, just..” He trailed off with a choked groan, the way his voice shook was clear enough to tell you that he couldn’t even think straight. “God, puttin’ y’self on display for me to just take.”

I shuffled under his tight grip, his fingers brushing my sides as he held himself with soldier-like restraint. I placed my hands over his, biting back all the snarky comments I had to make about his pleads. “So take it.”

His mind went blank and it was like he was seeing stars, he slid himself out and was careful, incredibly gentle, as he flipped me over. I laid on my stomach briefly and he ran his hands up and down my back, feeling the fabric of the shirt, before I pushed myself up onto my knees. I pressed myself against his hips, earning a twitch from his erection as it leant against the curve of my ass.

His hands landed on the soft skin of my backside, moving me forward before his dominant hand drifted downwards, his index and thumb spreading the folds so he could get a good look, watching the way the separation caused strings of slick between them, coating the tips of his fingers.

“Love you.” He babbled as a ‘thank you’ at the view, his other hand continued to push my position into place, trying to find a way that was more comfortable on my joints so he could just bury himself into me and never leave. My face was pressed comfortably into my pillow and I whined out for him.

He pressed himself slowly to the hilt with a soft groan. “That’s my girl.” He praised, leaning over me and pressing a kiss onto my shoulder and down my back, his fingers brushing through my hair. “Y’feel so much better than I remember.”

His words went straight to my core, the warm tingle making me clench and squeeze around him. His fingers began to dig into my scalp, holding it out of the way so he got a pleasant view of my neck and shoulders. He was mesmerised by the way my shoulders moved as I breathed and the way my throat moved as I moaned and swallowed thickly, my cheek pressing into the soft fabric and my mouth making an ‘O’ shape to keep my breathing steady at the sharp tension.

“You’re so lovely, angel.” He praised, beginning his gradual thrusts, slow enough to reminisce on what he’s missed. “So sweet to me, y’re lettin’ me have you like this.. Could’ve jus’ let me fuck your thighs, gone to sleep.” He sighed contently, not at all upset at the previous concept, he would’ve been just fine with it. His words were that of a love drunk lunatic, rambling every earnest word he could come up with. “I could’ve jus’ cuddled up to you ‘n’fucked you proper tomorrow but god, just..”

“Love you too much.” I mumbled into the pillow, feeling him fuck me further into the soft fabric. His hands on my hips dragged me to meet his movements, a sweet need to keep me comfortable while he literally took what he wanted.

His breath was still raggedy as he tried to make this as pleasant for both parties, though it was well known this wouldn’t be how sex usually was considering how he needed to let out his pent up frustrations. “Such a good girl, y’know I’ve wanted you for so long.” He praised, feeling incredibly grateful that he wouldn’t have to wait any longer. “My memory never does you justice.”

I muffled my sounds through the pillow as he moved us in tandem. I wiggled my hips at him and he hissed, his fingers dug into the plump flesh of my ass. “Take what’s yours, Alex.” I murmured into the pillow, my head bobbing at his thrusts.

“Always.” He whispered, his hands drifting. He enjoyed the fistful of ass, though his other hand continued to run up and down my spine, his hands dragging under the fabric of my tank shirt, his fingers brushing my hair to the side to display my shoulders to him. He continued to hunch himself over, pressing kisses onto parts of my back, feeling the muscles tense.

His hands wrapped around my hair once again, a makeshift ponytail as he displayed my neck to him fully. A kiss on the back of my neck, his teeth grazing slightly. His hands and lips tingling with the need to remember every inch of the body displayed in front of him.

“Your hair is so soft.” He praised, littering kisses on my neck and shoulder, trying to find any sense of closeness to cure the loneliness that seeped his bones while away. “And your skin is so sweet.”

He was winding me up, reaching places that haven’t been touched since his departure, the spongy flesh stretching to swallow him whole as he filled the space perfectly, and even after months, his muscle memory pushed him into just the right places.

Lewd sounds fell from my lips, a sharp gasp as he nuzzled against the spot of heaven. My eyes fell closed, threatening to roll back into my skull, his fingernails massaging my scalp, threatening to pull my hair back and bend my neck to unmuffle the sounds into the pillow. I whined out for him, and he conceded.

He pulled away from my neck, his body completely upright as he stopped moving my hips to meet his hips, instead pulling himself back and forth more suitably, holding my hips firmly in place so I couldn’t fuck myself back on him if I tried, or at least without a notable amount of effort. “Could take a bite out of that ass.” He grunted, slowing his movements to stop himself from cumming, though it earned him a dejected sigh, uncontent.

“I was close.” I tried to squirm, though his trained restraint held me firmly. He hushed me quietly as he moved slowly, depressingly so — enough to keep me sated while fighting off his own orgasm.

 “Touch yourself for me.” He whispered, crooning sweetly. “Help me, let me use you.”

My legs struggled to hold myself up, wanting to buckle and go limp. I twitched around him as I rubbed figure 8’s to make up for the lack of friction from his movements.

“Fuck.” He choked out, a whimper escaping his throat. “You’re making this difficult.” The ball of his palm rested on the bottom of my spine, trying to soothe me. His hips stuttered and he whispered silent pleads.

“‘M sorry, you feel so good, missed your cock.”

“I know, angel. Jus’ don’t wanna be some chump that cums in 2 seconds.” He huffed, puffing his chest out. A short laugh at his own snide comment. “I wanna take my time on you.” His words were enchantingly sweet despite his outward demeanour, his actions of brute exploitation.

“Mhm, I don’t care.” I reassured, knowing how pent up he was — how angry his cock must look, all red and swollen from being neglected. He pushed into my walls like he had a frustrating desperation, thick and achingly hard.

“Baby.” He chuckled. “Might be usin’ you, but ‘m not selfish. Gonna make sure you cum on my cock, yeah? ‘M not selfish.” His words lingered, he echoed to convince himself that he wouldn’t get carried away, ‘I’m not selfish’ he tried to convince himself. Despite how appealing his thoughts were, he took a shaky inhale, pushing them away.

My hips moved on their own accord, continuing his thrusts slowly after a moment of stillness, he had me bouncing at his movements with the weak slapping sounds of our hips connecting, clawing ah-ah-ah’s leaving my throat in time to his thrusts. He buried himself deeply into my guts, he had no shame in hiding his noises, he was desperate and he wanted me to know how badly he wanted it.

He let out a continuous string of grunts, groans and whines. “Keep playin’ with your cute pussy, doll. Get yourself there for me, get yourself off.” I nodded in time with him, moving my hands in a mix between frantic, wild need and precise movements. I clamped down on him, and he grunted, a choked cry as his composure almost turned to dust right then and there.

He breathed heavily, watching me squirm with want. “Wanna cum on your cock so bad.” I babbled, a distant whine murmured into the saliva-stained pillow. “So damn close.” I was barely audible, incoherent mumbles and cries

His slow movements picked up speed, his hand running through my hair, a makeshift ponytail in his tight fingers as he fought the urge to crane my neck again. “Make some noise, let me know how much you’ve missed me.” He whispered lowly. “Missed your pretty fuckin’noises, your pretty pussy, your pretty damn face.” He pressed a chaste kiss on my shoulder, then the side of my face. 

His fingers trailing through the ponytail, messily brushing knots from sleep out of it, before tugging on it slightly, just enough to move my mouth from the pillow. He tried his hand at small acts of devotion, his body shaking and trembling as he tried to restrain the greedy thrusts his body ached for.

“Wanna pull your neck so far back that it hurts.” He grumbled under his breath, before clearing his throat. “God, I love you, my pretty angel.” He crooned sweetly, covering up his previous devious thoughts, hoping my lust-haze blurred his words.

I sighed, fighting his grip to muffle myself into the pillow. “I’m close.” Whiney, high-pitched moans getting censored by the fabric I threatened to stuff into my mouth, sinking my teeth into it.

He nodded with each thrust, bouncing his head like he had no thoughts, watching me close my eyes in bliss, his grip on my hair loosened, just tight enough to keep the hair off my neck, letting the cool air brush against the skin to ease the sweat droplets forming all over my body. His thrusts began to lean more into my body, a white-knuckle grip on my waist, his fingers ghosting under the hem of the shirt. Sharp inhales and panting grunts from under his breath as he focused on whatever he could do to chase his orgasm off any longer.

“You’re right there.” He pleaded, trying to encourage the climax. “What’d’ya want me to do? Angel? What can get you there closer? What’ll make you— ah—” He hissed at the sudden tightness. “So fuckin’ tight, oh my god.” A choked gasp, and he scrunched his eyes tightly, then an airy laugh. “Squeezin’ the life outta me.” 

Incoherencies fell from my mouth like stones, they were heavy yet quiet. I felt my stomach tense up under his fingers, my legs feeling like they’d collapse under my own weight and feeling my body clamp down on him like a vice, trying to keep him firmly in place. Then it washed over me, a high pitched whine. “Alex—!” 

A low guttural groan as he twitched, his hips stuttering with desperation, moving more feverishly. “Oh fuuck, thank you.” He grunted, huffing for air. He felt the intermittent spasming cunt around him, a weak attempt of my body to milk him dry.

Both our bodies were slick and sticky with sweat, and he basked in my pleasure. “Don’t stop.” I almost sobbed; and he nodded with an open mouth grin, lazily smiling down.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He felt the spasm die down into twitching of overstimulus, and the way the warmth hugged him was too much for him — feeling the squelch of the wetness around him as he drove his hips to his finish. His hips pushed as deep as they could, brushing against my cervix, and his own member twitched before he came with a loud, pornographic moan.

“That’s m’pretty li’l angel.” He slurred, his voice gruff as he came hard, flooding my insides with his seed. “Missed you so fu-ucking much.” And his body went limp, laying himself down against me, idly grinding his hips into mine. He was still painfully hard, sagging only slightly, and he nuzzled into the sweat-musk of my neck.

My hands fell from my sensitive clit, and I went limp from under his heavy body, letting his body weight sink onto me, I tried to ration my breathing, catching my breath as he still panted desperately.

“Gotta keep m’cum in you.” He grumbled, his nose brushing against the damp curve of my neck. He kept grinding into place, a low groan as he felt his arousal not falter in the slightest. I hummed, and he laughed, still feeling the way the oversensitivity felt around him. He pulled himself out, giving himself a few messy, languid strokes as a substitute for the sudden lack of inviting warmth.

His lips trailed down my spine, his fingers dragging the tank top up to worship the skin of my back, the blank canvas he could just paint. He lightly sunk his teeth into my backside, small indents on my ass, met with a light slap when he pulled away. 

He admired the scene in front of him, taking in the dazed, fucked out look on my face, my eyes struggling to stay awake. The way my body slumped into the mattress, all limp, my arms spread out over the pillow like I could just fall asleep right there. He laughed again, almost ignoring the need that consumed him.

“Mhm?” He beckoned, pressing kisses onto my face. “Sleepy girl, you here?” He huffed in amusement. “Did I fuck my pretty girl until she passed out?”

I grumbled under my breath a faint ‘nuh-uh’ — “‘M here.” I sighed, my voice gravelly from exhaustion. “Still here..”

“Let me clean you up.” He spoke sweetly, the palm on my lower back directly aiding the movement to flip me casually and easily onto my spine without moving me too much, to let me rest and to let the ache settle.

He moved his face lower down my body, faint and gentle, ghost-like kisses down my body until he pressed his nose against my clit, a deep inhale of the messy hole he’d ruined. He licked a strip between the wet folds, collecting the juices on his tongue with a short groan. 

“I’ll be doin’ this for hours tomorrow.” He mumbled to himself, completely aware of my languid state. He could stay down there for hours currently, but the way my hips twitched, threatening to pull away from him was all he needed to know better, too much of a good thing and all of that.

His hands stayed on my thighs, and he hushed me quietly. He was too tired to move, too horny to stop, and too loving to leave his sweetness all alone and unclean. Curt kisses place on my thighs as he stretched the muscles outwards, his hands wiping any sweat from behind the knees, and he crawled his way back up my body, angling me onto my side with a greedy kiss on the lips. 

“Mhm, I taste you.” I commented, tasting the mixture of our cum on his lips.

“Tastes sweet, ain’t it? Like heaven.”

He snuggled up behind me like he did originally, his arms wrapped tightly around my stomach and pulling me close against him. I didn’t fight him, sleepily going with the way he moved me around, and he smiled into the crevice of my neck.

I could feel that he was still hard, pressed against my lower back, and he knew I could feel it, a tender kiss on my neck as an apology for it. “God, still fuckin’ hard.” He chuckled dryly. “Might jus’ keep fuckin’ y’thighs ‘till morn’..” He slurred, testing the waters and earning an affirmative hum in response. “You’d be okay wit’ that?”

“Mhm, ‘course.”

“Yeah?” He huffed. “Jus’ go to sleep, angel.” He reassured softly, quiet mumbles under his breath, his fingers running up and down my stomach carefully. “So perfect..”

He took a sharp inhale, a shaky exhale and moved my legs apart slightly, sliding his soaked cock between my thighs, using it as warmth for a moment, so he was already there when he decided his desperation was too much, that the lust made his body ache and his brain fog — he’d tolerate it until he can’t anymore.

“Sleep, pretty angel. Got all’ve tomorrow yet.”

[thisfanisgonesorry]

in sickness (and in flames) — john price

first you get hurt, and then there’s healing; its a process, believe me

tags: kyle “gaz” garrick mentioned, angst, hurt/comfort, injury resulting in chronic pain, ptsd, flashbacks and pov switches. -> fem!wife reader but also not really an x reader fic if that makes sense? just give her a chance;; 4.7k wc

a/n: this is self indulgent "fuck off and die" fic /lh (nerve dmg sucks) but might add more to it yet, who knows

💊

He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching his fists periodically. The memory ingrained in his head as he ignored the figure looming over him.

Bullets whizzed past them as he barked orders, directing his soldiers through cover, to eventual evac. To safety. There were so many of them that there wasn’t time to stop and shoot, the only option was to run, sprint, hide, use cover to your advantage, don’t let them get to you. His orders filled the air and cackled over the radio as he demanded backup or some form of overwatch.

He stood in the doorway to a building, his ears ringing from the sudden outburst of violence, dust covering every position, impossible to see how many shooters were from any angle, he waved his arm, gesturing to them to rush from cover-to-cover. He kept a count of his soldiers, mumbling names and numbers under his breath. His fingers looped into the edge of their vests or backpacks like you would on the scruff of a dogs neck, heaving them into the room and pushing them past the doorway threshold as he counted.

Bravo 6-2 walked through the door and John sighed in relief, giving him a pat on the back, and he continued to lead them through the building, not giving himself a moment of repose. ‘Everyone made it to safety’ echoed in his thoughts, the only thing that mattered.

“Anyone hit?” His voice hoarse as he scanned the group. He was met with reassurance from them, everything and everyone was fine, maybe a few minor injuries, but they were okay. That’s the only thing that mattered.

He raised his hands, two fingers pointing upwards as he glanced, squinting through the dust before waving, rushing through. His mind was fogged, which he now kicked himself for. He wanted to rush this, get out as quickly as he could manage. But if he just took his time —

A loud thud as he fell to the ground, blood seeping through his uniform but his body numb and tingly. He patted himself down as he tried to figure out where he was shot but nothing, the blood was thick to cover its origin, and his eyes wide, his eyebrows knitted in focus, trying to clear his thoughts despite the heavy rain of gunfire surrounding him.

His men covered him quickly, trying to pull him to his feet, but a rough, barked. “Go!” filled the air, a demand of desertion that was swiftly ignored.

“Sir, we’re not leaving without you.” 6-2 spoke firm, picking up the fallen soldier quickly and heaving his arm over his shoulder. There was an unspoken glare between them, a silent argument. Though the soldier averted his gaze, taking his role as second in command immediately in stride.

John was silent, observing, uncontesting the willingness of his soldiers to save him. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe they’d truly leave him behind, but the quick thinking would earn some medals.

The hospital was worse than the battlefield. Half of his body was numb, though he sat there clenching and unclenching his fists, wriggling whatever part of his body could move. His voice was ragged from exhaustion, and rough from the lack of hydration. Despite knowing better, he just couldn’t bring himself to drink anything, or to eat. He simply laid there, fighting for control over his body.

The bullet was removed from his spine and laid next to him, covered in his dried blood that crusted the pristine silver, it laid idly in the metal tin, but John couldn’t help but glare at it like it offended him.

His body laid straight and flat on the hospice mattress to ease the spinal column. His eyes stayed glued to the roof, though his eyes failed him, and despite his instinct, he fought to look away from the offensive side-table.

He’d been hospitalised for weeks while the army did their last duty to support him. Nurses coming in and out to make sure he left in the best of conditions, though he couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

A letter of discharge sat on the table next to him, sided with a bottle of water and using the metal tin with the bullet as a paperweight. The victoria cross was placed formally on top of the discharge paper, gifted to him while he slept.

As weeks went on, small tidbits were left on his side table as farewells, as souvenirs, as gifts. It wasn’t long before the news of Captain John Price’s discharge made its way around the base.

His spine recovered quickly, no major damage — not paralysed permanently. Once he was able to sit up without insufferable pain, he analysed the few items that were left for him. He rattled the tin, staring down at the bullet and cursing it for changing the trajectory of his life. The paper insulted him slightly, and he dreaded the day where he’d have to sign it, he was putting it off as long as he could, doing his best to ignore it’s presence, but his time was nearing. He couldn’t stay in this infirmary forever.

The Victoria Cross, in all its glory. He picked it up carefully, treating it like it was fragile. It wasn’t his to discard. He analysed the soft red ribbon, running his calloused finger over it. Awarded for astounding bravery. He flipped it over, to find the date of such an event labelled on the centre of the cross, and one ‘Kyle Garrick’ engraved into the suspender bar.

“You’re lucky to even be able to walk.” Were words that made his eyes glaze over, and they were always met with a brisk, formal nod. How was he supposed to respond to that information? He was bombarded with information like that, how he was lucky to be able to walk, how he was so lucky that it didn’t do more damage than it did. How much luck would he have needed to not get hit at all?

So he laid there, staring up at the ceiling at the memory. Fists clenched and unclenched. “Honey?” Was called out from the dark, and he turned his head, sitting up briefly to see his darling wife. “Made you some tea.”  

The glass was sat next to him and he stared up at me like he’d seen a saint. “I love you.” He spoke, like if he didn’t say it, then there would be no way for her to remember on her own. A chaste kiss, and a reassuring palm on the back of her waist was the physical touch that soothed his mind, though he continued to linger on the thoughts.

He was tired, beyond so, a permanent scowl hidden behind his outgrown beard, he’d neglected most forms of self care at this point in his life. He’d shaved it once — the day before he came home. He stood in front of the mirror for an hour just staring at his reflection, dreading what would come next, like it would be something bad until he forced himself into maintenance.

He walked up to the doorstep, his bag slung over his shoulder and the discharge paper firmly on his hand. He presented it like a child who just got an ‘F’ on their test, handing it to their disapproving mother that expected better. The look of shame that covered his face. The pleading in his eyes. 

I carefully took the paper from his hands, confused by his expression before seeing the glaring sentences. ‘Certificate of discharge from active duty’ plastered across the top, as well as his name and neighbouring information. A mumbled ‘what?’ escaped my lips as I continued to skim, knowing few of the words, but wanting that extra confirmation.

‘Medical discharge’ stuck out awfully. There was information about the discharge scattered throughout the letter, something or other mentioning medical retirement and the permanent disability retirement list. “John, what’s this?” I asked, met with silence, the soldier continuing to stand tall. “What happened?” His heart sank, his reserve falling. God, did he feel selfish.

He walked into the large, oh-so-empty house, and he half-expected to get dragged by the ear. “Got shot.” He grumbled under his breath. “Don’t even know how it happened — it was all so fast.” His breath quickened, his heart racing at the shooting memory of the pain that slithered down his body before the numbness took hold.

I wrapped my arms around him, and he fell silent. The words stopped pouring and he slumped down, letting his large, strong arms wrap around the smaller torso, and he accepted the act of affection warmly despite the way his gut churned in disappointment in himself.

All that hard work, and for what? What did it even pay off for?

Weeks passed, and he struggled to cope with the knowledge that he’d never go back to work. The pension came in smoothly, he was given what was needed to live comfortably, they did their part to make sure he was well-cared for. Government wise or other. He was supplied for, and that left a tight feeling in his chest that he didn’t like.

He wasn’t disabled — not by a long shot. Not in his eyes. Though that fiery pain that starts in the heel of his foot and quickly strikes up his leg like lightning spoke otherwise, like an echo behind his voice that said the opposite of his words.

Once again, he laid in bed, the sheets kicked off his aching, touch-hot legs, though they stayed wrapped around his doting lover. Why wasn’t he able to support his wife the same way he did before? It twisted him up and spat him out.

“Love you.” Was mumbled into the flesh of his neck, and he gave a sharp exhale, sighing at the words and closing his eyes, basking in the moment. He held his breath when he thought about these things — holding his breath in hopes it eased the tightness in his chest. He let out a soft laugh. She noticed, of course she did.

His arms squeezed them closer together, the same way he used to. Not much had changed besides his body. The sudden ache in his muscles, the discomfort. The all-too-well known demotivation that came with upheavals of change. The only other thing that changed, a good change, was his lack of motif bred a healthy amount of weight gain.

‘Soft around the edges’ were the words of choice. They reverberated around his skull for a few days, and he sulked and sulked, unsure how he felt about it. Initially taking it as an insult before that consciousness in the back of his head reminded him that he was loved.

“Love you too.” He brooded.

“Stop thinking so much.” I hummed, letting it hang in the air the same way he hung his head in shame. He let out a gruff hum of approval, letting me know my words were heard, but he wasn’t happy to hear them.

He woke, stirring slightly and noticing the distinct emptiness in his arms that he’d grown familiar with, though it continued to be strange. His arms reached out, patting a side of the bed, before he picked himself up, opening his eyes to be met with the distinct *clink* of his cup of tea placed gently on the bedside table.

“Hate it when you do that.” Was his confession. He loathed the feeling of waking up alone, and it was salt in the wound to know that she did it for him. He always felt like it was his job to be the caretaker, the provider, so for it to suddenly be ripped away like that? It killed him. Anyone with half a mind would be incredulously grateful that their partner loves them enough to care for them back the same way, versus whatever Jennifer Tilly has going on the side. But for whatever reason, never John Price.

He wasn’t met with a response, just an affectionate smile as the day continued, not pausing for a moment, it never did anymore. He missed the closeness, the affections. More than anything, he missed the intimacy.

He was kicking himself for letting it affect the marriage, because of course it did — of course it would. He couldn’t believe himself. He managed to find someone so loving, so caring, so supportive, so radiant. So unbelievably perfect. His own bitter, brooding pushing away the one good thing he had left. 

The only thing he felt that continued to function in his body correctly was his heart.

He gave a deep sigh, his hands tightly holding onto the side of the sink as he sat in the big house alone, oh; it felt so empty sometimes. His knuckles noticeably paler from how tight he held onto the sink, analysing his face.

He picked the sleep from his eyes and ran his hands over his beard, running his nails through the messy hair. The electric razor buzzed to life in his hands, he held it to his cheek and let it remove all the excess unkemptness.

A low growl rumbled through him, his hands struggling to respond to the actions his brain told him as he tried to trim his beard, the guard pressing into the fur and trimming it as it fell into the sink. The door behind him clicked, his arm tensed and the safe-guard failed, pressing deeper and a ball of fluff falling into the basin, a small bald patch forming on his cheek.

I apologised needlessly, assuming I was the distraction that caused the incident. “I’m sorry.” — I greeted him warmly, a reassuring touch, and he scowled, though there was no frustration; only disappointment. — He sucked his teeth, moving his jaw for easier access as he clean-shaved his face, leaving his cheeks bare and naked for the first time in years.

“Not your fault.” He responded gruffly, turning the razor off and swapping it between hands, shaking his dominant one briefly before going back to his actions. His cheeks were stubbled as he tried to keep it smooth, though he was heavily limited.

The razor was placed down on the side of the bench, and he rubbed the smooth skin, feeling the dull bristles over his fingers. It took him a moment, the person in the reflection looked nothing like him, it almost prompted a double take. He hadn’t looked this baby-faced in so long but it was welcome. Maybe even the change he needed. “I’m proud of you.” He froze, nodding with a thick swallow and slight gasp of air, almost like the words itself hurt more than a gunshot.

“Thank you.”

“It looks nice.” I whispered, my palm on his strong, muscled back. “You look nice.”

He leant into the touch, his shoulders relaxing and his body untensing at the reassurance. I rested my chin on his shoulder, and ran my hands up and down his arms, taking in his beauty. He was tired, and the conversation felt like a stab in the chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He grumbled, shuffling from foot to foot, rolling his shoulders as a slight innuendo that he didn’t want me touching him, and the conversation ended there. His words were terse — and I pulled away slowly at his actions.

He turned to me hesitantly, breaking eye contact with his own reflection, a million untamed thoughts running through his head. “I love you.” He reassured, a soft kiss on my forehead, feeling the stubble scratch me slightly, his nose pressing into my hairline, a firm hand on my shoulder as a vague form of affection like he did to his soldiers, the ones that he misses so dearly.

The sound of dishes clinking into the sink filled the kitchen. “I’m sorry.” He spoke with his chest, all puffed like a scared animal trying to survive against a predator. The tall, strong ex-soldier was now acting like nothing more than prey. “For everything. For.. All of it.” He struggled on his words with a sigh.

“What? You didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t.” He commented, his voice low like it was a warning. “Don’t try and act like it’s nothing and don’t—” His words caught in his throat. “Don’t think you have to take care of me.”

The silence was overwhelming, consuming the room and filling the air like a noxious gas. What was I meant to say to that? I shook my head, wordless, unblinking, unmoving, unbreathing. My mouth fell open to speak, though I pressed it into a thin line, keeping myself quiet. What do I say? He noticed the awkwardness, and sighed once again.

“Didn’t mean it like that.” He admitted, the roughness to his voice like gravel, like a man who hadn’t slept in days, lying awake, memories haunting him and the rigid words he planned to say to his doting lover filling his senses, but now he was here saying them it was fleeting. “You know what I meant, just..”

“John.”

“I know that this can’t be easy for you—”

“Like it’s easy for you?” I quickly retorted and he fell silent, his eyes staring through me as his mind lingered on the next argument for him to make. Though it seemed every argument he made quickly fell to an impasse.

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me.” “I’m your wife, I’m doing what I’ve always done.”

“I should be the one supporting you.” “You’re still getting paid, aren’t you?”

“What kind of man gets like this?” “A man that gets shot in the spine, and should count his blessings that he can still walk.” “I should’ve done a better job.” “You could’ve done better by telling me you were hospitalised.”

The room fell silent after the last dry, airy comment. He felt like he’d been shot all over again. “Look.. I’m sorry for that.” He said earnestly. A pause, a beat. “I don’t think that this is what you signed up for.”

“What about ‘in sickness and in health’?” Another silence, another pause, another beat. The air felt humid, sticky with tension, like a bead of sweat could roll down the side of his forehead, down his temple and slick onto the now bare-faced man.

“Don’t twist my words.”

“I know what I signed up for.” And the argument ended there. His stomach twisted up, why was he doing this? He was once again chewing himself up. Why was he pushing everything away? Why couldn’t he just get over it.

His thoughts scurried as he sat alone, dwindling on the minor argument, a common sight now. Why did he do that? How can such a tiny piece of lead do so much damage? How can it rewire his entire life? How can it rewire his brain? He dreaded the thoughts that always came next — is he selfish for wishing it took it instead? It was never a thought that he meant. Never truly, earnestly something he meant.

He was lonely. It was obvious. He’d lost his job, all his friends and all of his connections. He loathed it, and he wanted anything to take up his time. He itched to distract himself, to move his mind away from the guilt. He was fighting and he hated it — so he walked.

Walking made his feet burn, his big and heavy combat boots never felt like such a burden. Weighing down his body as he trudged along. He continued to walk anyway, working his legs back into metaphorical shape. It was a struggle, a fight, and how he managed to do this every day of his life before was a distant memory.

The ex-soldier continued to brute force his way through the pain. He convinced himself that the pain was like a runners-high where if he pushed past it, there’d be a sudden burst of renewal, though it never came.

He pushed through the front door, heavy footsteps banging on the floor, a wince in each step. He had a tired frown, searching the house idly. He placed a bag of food on the bench, a sigh escaping his lips as he wrapped his arms around his beloved. “Darling..” His voice was gravelly from the sudden uptake of smoking and yelling. “Got us some food.” He tried to speak sweetly as a surrender, a statement that there was not an argument to be had. 

“You’re done being a baby?” I mumbled and he let out a silent grunt of disapproval, though he took it in stride. A weak stride as his chin rested on my shoulder, his beard scratching my neck as he nuzzled slightly.

“Guess so.” He sighed, earning a nod. “‘S your favourite.” His eyes drooped, peaking at what kept my hands occupied. He tried to keep his attitude light, but all attempts of talking fell flat on its face. “C’mon, talk to me.”

I slinked out of his hold, turning to face him and he locked me into place, both hands holding the bench on either side of me, his tall figure looming over me dearly, the ghost of an embrace. “This is f’you.” I commented, handing him the cup of tea. Honey, herbs, tealeaves, sugar, milk. Spice, everything nice. He smiled, half-lidded eyes. “How was your walk?” He shrugged, he took the cup, and he was less domineering as he no longer trapped me between the counter and his large build.

“Good — and good.” He nodded, sipping the tea and gesturing to it with a short lift. He adored the new tea flavours, the variation between them. He was just a bland black breakfast type of guy, enforced by the lack of choice between being a military man and living alone with no desire to explore, but he can’t say he didn’t enjoy the list of flavours being thrown at him, too many to count or remember, but he knew most of them taste amazing, but he couldn’t distinguish if the love it was made with had something to do with it.

“And you? How are you?”

He licked his lips, excess tea wet on his moustache. “Suppose ‘m good.” His eyes were untelling, keeping all the secrets he’d ever seen in his life balled up in his pocket like a handkerchief, stained with the blood, sweat and tears of the memories, the ultimate grime that got stuck under his fingernails and buried into the crevices of his brain. He noticed the way he was being analysed, scanned by those knowing eyes. “Things should’ve been different.” He eventually grumbled, caving slightly at the all-too-intimidating stare of a lover wanting the truth.

“But they’re not.” Were the harsh words that responded to him, he knew better; it didn’t mean to come across like that but with all the lingering tension filling the air like dust mites, what was he to do but take it personally? “And there’s nothing you can do about it but move forward. You should know that.” I continued, trying to make my tone more gentle but failing.

“I do know that.” He said defensively, and there was a moment of silence as the tension peaked. Another argument loomed, and he coaxed himself into relaxing. “I’m just trying to get through it.” He explained. “I think if I just—”

“You’re pushing yourself.”

“That’s what I’ve always done.” He responded dumbly. “You gotta push through the—”

“Stop.” Cracked through the air like a whip, and he tensed, putting the tea down with a clink. “Pushing yourself is how this doesn’t get any better. You need to just relax, and get used to everything.”

“You know that’s not what I’m like.” He said back like a warning, though he caught his words between his fingers before they could be twisted. “And I know I’m not in the army anymore.”

“So why don’t you act like it instead of making everything worse?”

He cleared his throat, averting his gaze at the words that made his heart sink into his gut, like he could digest it at any second. “I don’t want to fight. I never want to fight you..” He said calmly and slowly despite his tense demeanour. His tone was low and cautious like he was talking to a cornered animal. He took a step back, hands raised in defence, physically moving away for space, trying to relieve the feeling of being trapped. “I want to eat dinner with you, ‘n’ watch a movie on the couch. Like we used to, yeah?”

Part of him felt that lingering doubt. Were these arguments just misguided, misplaced care like a child forgetting their toy? Or were they a symptom of a vacant husband that for once, is finally home, and is that too much?

He watched the awkward shuffles as the figure pushed past him, inspecting the bag like he was a liar, as if he didn’t actually get his wifes favourite food. The tension was unbelievably palpable, and he watched every move carefully. A short huff, and they met glances, and he had a knowing feeling in his chest.

“Can we just pretend everythin’s fine? This.. This is jus’ a rough patch, baby.” He spoke reassuringly, trying to calm the thick air but his words were calloused and rough like he didn’t fully believe them, like how the next reaction went would define the difference between truth and wishful thinking. “Look at me.” He said firmly, interrupting his degrading thoughts. “We’ll be okay. We’re okay.”

“Are you saying that for me or for yourself?” I commented, handing him his takeout dish, and an airy silence took us before he gave a light shrug, a soft smile. He took it briskly, almost curtly, and he reached to grab mine, holding both in his large hands then deftly moving around the kitchen, swinging around to avoid any flying bullets that could fire randomly from the argument.

“Does it matter?” He answered, happily carrying both of our meals over his head, knowing I wouldn’t be able to reach him and stop him until they were placed on the coffee table with a clink of the cutlery. His large hands looked comical, his small cup of tea in one hand and his other hand carrying everything else together.

I bit back all the sardonic grumbles, slumping down with a thud onto the couch, it creaked under his large figure and we shared an expecting glance, unspoken words were beyond audible. 

“I want you to understand that I need to do what I’ve always done.” He brooded. He’d spent every other day of his life pushing himself to the limits, following orders, doing what he’s told, risking his life, everything that’s expected from a soldier. “It’s who I am.”

A silence, a distant sound of clicking of the remote skimming through the TV, trying to find some form of movie that’d fill the tremendously awkward silence. Click-click-click. What to watch, what to watch? What to relive the youth of the strained relationship? To pretend that everything is honestly, truly fine, just for a miniscule moment.

“I know this — change — is hard on you.”

There was a moment of eye contact, a look of pleading recognition, a want of his life back despite what was taken from him. A want flashed behind my eyes of simply wanting him to be grateful for what he still has, not for what he lost. There would always be that miscommunication and he knew that it would always be a critical language barrier.

“I love you.” He reminded me like there’d be no tomorrow. Like all these temporary problems would all pile up and result into one permanent landslide of a solution, something drastic, something he dared not even mention or think or say aloud, nor spell in his mind with fear of accidentally jinxing his life.

A sigh escaped my lips, and I understood, of course I did, but was this argument even worth it anymore if it created nothing but incessant guilt and paranoia? The TV flashed to life, the movie was selected as he tried to move onwards, away from the taut past. The intro sequence played out slowly, the music quiet and low in the apartment air like white noise.

“John.. It’ll get better, you know?”

[thisfanisgonesorry]

soon = later today or tomorrow

hi. john price angst soon.

[thisfanisgonesorry]

hi. john price angst soon.

[thisfanisgonesorry]

relaxation — charles smith

a camping trip, some stress relief  kinktober day 3: size kink

tags: smut, size kink / stomach bulge, breeding, ambiguous timeline, petplay/hybrids? use of bunny/bear

🐇

His large arms wrapped around my torso, his hands grabbing the flesh of my stomach and his chin resting on the top of my head. “Evenin’, baby. Any chance you’d wanna come hunting with me?” He spoke casually.

“Hi.” I smiled, not turning my head as I rinsed bowls in the lukewarm water. “We’re going hunting?”

“Of course. You’re always helpful.” He spoke sweetly, biting his tongue and pressing a kiss onto my temple. “Prefer you to anyone else.”

His large hands grabbed hold of my waist as he helped me down from my steed. “You know I can do that myself, right?” I laughed softly, 

“But why would you when I’m right here?” He placed me on the ground and hitched my horse to the nearby tree.

He started putting up the tent casually, like nothing was going on beyond a simple day out and it was beginning to feel like exactly that.

“So what’re we hunting?” I attempted to scrounge together as many sticks as possible, trying to start a small campfire, and I slumped down on the ground, striking a match against my boot and letting it light.

He shrugged as he put the tent up, tying the entryway flaps open with a clip. I shrugged, handing him the bedrolls and he laid them down side-by-side. He let out a small laugh at my actions, watching me sit back down next to the small fire.

“Nothin’. Just needed to get you out of camp.” He admitted once he climbed out of the tent, he sat by the edge and crossed his legs.

“And to think you were being helpful.” I scoffed slightly, though he simply patted his thighs, gesturing for his intentions. I crawled towards him, and eventually took a perch on his lap. 

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed.

“You’re predictable.” 

“You’re beautiful.” His chest rumbled slightly. “I had to take care of my sweet bunny, hm? I could tell you needed time away.” His words were sweet, and each sentence was met with a kiss to the face.

I wrapped my arms around his strong shoulders, nuzzling myself into his neck. “Maybe you got one thing right.” I commented, legs sprayed across his large thighs. His hands run up and down my back, holding me close to him.

“Such a good bunny.” He cooed, removing my boots softly and placing them to the side.

He moved us further into the tent, moving swiftly to lay me down flat against the soft bedroll. He shut the tent flaps behind us and pressed a kiss on my shoulder.

The sun was setting, and his hands fiddled with the edge of my pants. “Chose here on purpose. Don’t be afraid to make some noise.” He spoke sweetly, his large hands moving to remove my pants and bloomers, folding them neatly to the side before he unbuttoned my shirt. 

He then pulled at his own shirt, throwing it haphazardly to the side, before dipping his head down and pressing a kiss onto my stomach. “Tell me you missed me. You missed this.”

“I missed you.” I moaned out as his lips pressed a firm kiss on my clit before leaving a light suckle, then running his tongue up the length.

His soft eyes watched me carefully as he slowly buried himself deeper into me, his nose brushing against my clit until he’d move up and swirl his tongue around it, taking it between his lips and moaning as he sucked, wet sounds filling the air, and then letting it pop loudly.

He let a low chuckle at the pink tint covering my face and he hunched over, his head dipping lower and part of his hair covering his eyes. “Smother me.” He groaned, his hands dug into the plush flesh of my thighs, pulling me closer to him.

I gave a light tug onto his hair, writhing under him and my fingers closed tight with his locks trapped within my fist. “Charles—” I whined, pulling him away from me for just a moment.

“What can your bear do for you, bunny?”

I dug my feet into his back with a strained whine. “Fingers, please.”

“Aw, that’s it.” He cooed. “You just want your tight pussy stretched out.” He smiled, not faltering his movements as his two large digits rubbed against the entrance.

He started sucking on my clit again harshly, and slowly pushing his fingers in. I sobbed against my palm, muffling the sound. “Don’t.” He growled. He reached up, taking my hand away and after carefully untangling my hand from his hair, he pinned my wrists together under my sternum, my elbows digging into the bedroll.

He listened to the symphony of moans that fell from my mouth at his movements, intentionally making it agonisingly slow until he reached the hilt.

His movements began slow and steady, a gracious pace while his tongue swirled against the bundle of nerves. “Sweet girl.” He groaned to himself, pushing the pads of his fingers to the perfect spot that made me clench around him.

“Charles, I’m—“ And he pulled away, placing one last kiss on my stomach before crawling up my body, his fingers still working to stretch me apart for him.

“I know, I know.” He purred to my whines of protest, the sudden lack of stimulation causing me to spasm around him.

I threw my head back against the bedroll, squirming against his hands for friction and earning a small, pitied smile in return. 

He leant closer, his lips ghosting mine. “Taste yourself.” He waited for me to lean forward, pressing his against mine, and he was smiling into the kiss at the sounds of my moans. 

His hand left my wrists, and wrapped around my throat loosely, holding me in place as his other quickened, going at an inhumane pace. My eyes rolled back as I struggled to keep kissing him. 

He groaned, not relenting on its speed. “Fastest way to stretch you out, yeah?” He teased, sounding incredibly smug at the desperation. “You sound so pretty.”

“Charles—!” I sobbed into his mouth, my hands grabbing onto him, my fingernails threatening to break his skin.

“You’re a needy girl, beg me to split you apart on my dick.” His soft smile never faltered despite the sweetness not being in his words. His kiss stayed tender as he waited for the fog to lift and for words to spill from my lips.

“Please.” I managed out once I could see through the haze. “Oh my god, please. Charles, need you. Need you to split me open.”

He let out a pleased hum, enjoying the way the words caught in my throat at the brutal pace he’d set. His hands slowed gradually before pulling out completely. “You’re my good bunny. So good at begging.” He cooed, removing his pants gradually, kicking them off and wrapping his slick fingers around the length.

I whined, squirming under his touch as he rubbed the tip up and down the folds. “Please, give it to me.” 

“You love how big I am, yeah? How small you are compared to me?” He commented, rubbing his head up and down a few more times before slowly pushing in until he felt resistance. “How I can only— Fuck, get so far in at first before it starts to hurt you.” His voice was a low growl as he slowly began to thrust what he could. “Always gotta stretch you out more ‘till I fit.”

His thrusts were shallow and slow, and he let out short groans, his face scrunching up occasionally as he tried to restrain himself from bullying himself into the small space. 

The wet sounds that filled the tent only beckoned the various moans from both of us to become louder and filthier, causing my ears to perk up. “You.. You’re sure no one’s gonna— fuck— hear us?”

“Mhm.” He nodded. “We’re miles away from a town. There’s no chance anyone will come here.”

“What if they ride past the road?”

“They’ll only see a tent. I made sure. They won’t hear a thing. ‘Nd baby, you’re clenching around me too much, can’t fuckin’ move.” He hissed, his palm soothingly running up and down my thigh. “Just trust me and calm down. It’s in no one’s business to come up to us.”

“What if they try to rob us?”

“Then they won’t be alive much longer.” He spoke sternly, his other hand cupping my face. “Take a breath ‘n’relax f’me.”

I took a sharp inhale, sucking the air into my lungs as I tried to untense my muscles. He sighed softly, squeezing my thigh and nodding reassuringly as he continued his ministrations.

“That’a girl, let me just fuck those thoughts out of your head.”

He moved my legs to wrap tightly around his torso, hooking my fit together as they dug into his lower back, pulling him closer to me though he was met with resistance when he didn’t fit just yet. He let out a guttural groan and I winced at the intrusion. His fat head pressing against the deepest part of my walls, threatening to push deeper into my guts, tearing me in half. 

“You don’t have to worry about anything.” He crooned, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. A mewl crawled out of my throat, a choked cry of pleasure. “Shh, that’s it, all wound up. Unwind.” He took a handful of my hair, making a messy ponytail in his fingers, tugging back my hair slightly to display my neck to him.

Gentle kisses were littered on my throat and chest as he was grinding his hips into mine, trying to push himself deeper. “Charles, it’s too much.” I struggled against his sheer size. The humiliating lingering thought of someone overhearing filled my senses as he filled my tightness.

“Ah, just open up for me, bunny.” He whispered with feverish need, reassuring me gently as my heels dug sharply into his thighs. I moaned, wanting to cover my mouth again but he caught my hand before I could, a short glare of daggers that said ‘don’t’ filled the air and I closed my eyes tight, my eyes half-lidded and glancing down at him.

His strong chest held me down, pinning me to the bedroll. His movements slow and careful as he was grinding himself into me with short thrusts. It chased little pleasure besides the feeling of fullness, the warmth taking him wholly and perfectly.

“Always so surprised by how you take me so well.” He praised sweetly, his words lingered as he eased me open, still kissing and lapping at the skin in front of his eyes. “You’re doing so—” He choked on his words briefly as he finally pushed to his hilt, a short groan leaving his lips as his eyes forcibly fell shut. “—So fucking good, sweetheart.”

I let out a short yelp of surprise, before it subdued into moans. He continued grinding into me slowly, letting me clench helplessly around him. His scratchy, well groomed pubic hair brushed against my clit and his muscles tensed as he watched me carefully.

“Oh my fucking god.” I cried out, my body arching up into him. His mouth grazed across my chest. He watched carefully, his eyes drinking in every detail of the scene, before he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples, earning another strangled moan. “Ah, Charles—”

“No. What’d I say?” He interjected. “No thoughts. No thinking. All you have to do is lay back, relax and take it.” His slowly began to move more, sliding in and out at an everlasting slow pace, letting the largeness consume my thoughts as I felt every aching inch of him fill my pulsing walls.

My head was clouded and fuzzy as all the stress melted away. “I want more.” I whispered, pleadingly. “Please.” I added as an afterthought. “Please, bear.”

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby.” He groaned in response, the ball of his palm pressing into the bulge through my stomach. His hips snapping into place, enough to make my tits bounce in place. “Such a good bunny, hm? All tight ‘n’warm for her big bear.” His words bordered on animalistic grunts.

“All f’you.”

“That’s right, all for me.” He nodded, pressing his lips against mine quickly. “What do you need to cum?” He asked tentatively. His hips moved, a gracious but deep pace, his body itching to go brutally with sharp movements, to press his head against my cervix harshly and fill it without a second thought.

My eyes blinked at him, bleary as I squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck me deeper.” I rasped out.

“Deeper?” He laughed, his thick digits reaching down to my middle. He rolled his neck hesitantly before abiding. He pulled away, his chest no longer pressed against mine and he took in the view of a heaving chest, arching upwards.

“Mhm, more.” I nodded blankly. His hips moved, dragging himself from the slickness and harshly bullying himself back to the hilt, moving his hips to attempt to move his tip deeper into the heat.

“Unwind.” He repeated softer, keeping the punishing pace as shameful sounds filled the tents air. “Y’re so wound up, baby, relax and you’ll cum like that.” He commented with a figurative click of the fingers.

I whined incessantly, nearing closer to the edge. “Can’t.”

“You can.” A smile spread across his lips but his eyebrows knitted. “I want you to.” He continued, his voice gentle, unintended to come across as any form of pressure. “There’s no expectations for you here. I will do what you want.”

My words caught in my throat once again, and his hand ran over my torso, squeezing my breast before pinching at the nipple. “You wanna sit on my face? I’ll eat you up ‘til you’re creamin’ all over me.” He whispered, trying to beckon some form of command from me. “You wanna ride me? I’ll get the saddle all ready for you. Whatever it takes.”

“This’s good — don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep fuckin’ you like this.” He reassured with a hiss, his movements faltering. He let out a brief huff of amusement, taking in every detail he could. “You’re right there, bunny.”

“So close.” I croaked out, pleading with him.

“Haven’t fucked those thoughts out yet though.” He spoke quietly, a short hum and a sharp slap to my thighs. “People just ask so much from you, but you’re away.” He spoke the obvious, I wasn’t at camp currently, though I was still tense and acting like I was.

My thighs flinched at the contact, a slight sting and the flesh turning into a pink handprint. I whimpered, a good sign to his ears, my fingers grasping onto his shoulders and pulling him closer however he stayed still as a statue. His hands were occupied, one circling my clit and the other pinching and squeezing at my chest.

“What else do you need?” His words of affirmation melted away as his own orgasm approached. “Let me get you there.”

“Cum in me.” I blurted out, the first words that came to mind when I pleaded with myself to figure out what would work. I tightened my legs around him to prove a point, and he hissed, trying to pull away briefly to test my strength.

“Yeah?” He leant over me, his hand leaving my breast to hold himself up as he had a reborn vigour, using his knees to push my hips into position, moving it so he could hit deeper, his tip nudging against the cervix. “Want me to fill you up?”

I nodded, and his ragged breathing paused as he took in the utter desperation in my eyes. “You need this, bunny.” He nodded in understanding. “You deserve it.”

His thrusts staggered, short gasps and grunts leaving him. He put his sentences behind him, his eyes threatening to close each time he felt himself brush against the spongy opening to the womb, a shooting pleasure each time he did.

“Gonna cum.” He rasped out. “Y’gonna cum with me.” It wasn’t a question in the slightest, though I nodded in agreement, trying to itch myself closer. My hand met his, and I pushed his hand to move faster.

I gasped, a silent squeal leaving my throat. “Don’t stop.” I pleaded. Another choked cry, I pressed myself up to meet his chest again, my hand digging into his shoulder, pulling his body closer to mine.

My eyes squeezed shut as I clamped down on him. “That’s it, right there.” He crooned with a shaking voice, “Good breeding bunny.” He hissed with a sharp inhale, feeling the spasm around him.

“For the love of god, don’t you dare—”

“I won’t stop, bun, go on. Cum all over me. Squeeze my cock dry.” He whispered carefully, his hot breath on my face. His breathing was ragged, his hips continued to stutter. 

He held my hips firmly, angling the waist. He pushed against my cervix once again, his cock twitching with low groans. He twitched, a pornographic moan falling from his lips before he could give a warning as he pressed a rough kiss onto my mouth — messy and wet, lips clashing together as his movements slowed down, grinding harshly in place as he weakly spurted cum with guttural groans.

“‘M not done yet.” I managed to choke out.

He nodded blankly, a glazed over look in his eyes as he continued his movements through our orgasms, his overstimulation beginning to sting, but he ached for my pleasure. His cum threatened to seep out of me, coating his length and our thighs, his weak thrusts trying to push the cum further inside. “That’s a good cocksleeve, take it, bunny.” 

I slumped down limply, pushing myself up onto my elbows and he pressed a kiss onto my temple, nuzzling the sweat-slicked hair out of my face, I panted lightly and he had a low groan, still grinding his hips idly. 

My eyes were hazy, I watched him with a lop-sided grin. “Thank you, bear.” I hummed.

“Course, sweet bunny girl.” He pressed another kiss onto my temple. “Gotta make sure you’re taken care of, hm?”

I gave a short laugh, a kind smile of adoration. “Appreciate you.” I spoke quietly, yearning for the closeness between us. “Y’re too good f’me.”

“Wanna keep my cock in you?” He whispered, scooping me up in his large hands, and laying on his side, keeping me close. “Keep all that cum in place.” A low hum, his face buried into my neck, a deep inhale of my scent.

“Y’gonna fall asleep?” I murmured.

“Mhm, I’ll only ever rest when you’re sated.”

[thisfanisgonesorry]

installing bg3 and just realising having sex with astarion is us having sex with kamski and i think im going to have a heart attack i cant

[thisfanisgonesorry]

Can you do a giggly drunk make out session with soap x fem reader and Ghost (being the observant guy he is) could tell his best friend was head I’ve rebels for the female sergeant and he catches the 2 out of the corner of his eyes making out, smiling into each others mouths?!?!

i hope this is okay!! im sorry it took me a little bit, got super AUGHH with it and lowkey not my proudest but <3

tags: fluff, love confessions sort of, making out mwahmwahmwah, depictions of drinking + smoking, simon is not an asshole for once, light use of scottish gaelic / scottish slang

☠️

Lieutenant Riley was across the room, his arms furrowed across his chest as he kept a close eye on things. His eyes squinted and focused on the duo and he sighed, shaking his head; “Idiots.”

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish, standing in all his glory, was hunched over the pool-table, a beer bottle creating ring stains in the plush green carpet. He pulled his arm back and click, the last little ball sunk into the netted hole.

“Fucker.” The other man cursed, and John accepted his humble victory, which meant chugging the rest of his beer and sending the loser to get him another while he set the table up for the next game.

During his victory, he glanced over, a grin plastering his face as he noticed my staring. “You see that?” He cheered, walking over and slumping next to me on the couch. His lackey handed him his fresh beer, and he clinked our drinks.

“Mostly saw the back of you.”

“Sure you enjoyed the view anyway, yeah?” He joked, taking my beer from my hands and giving me his fresh cold one in its place. He blinked, realising he needed to explain, but also wanting to change the topic away from his assets. “It’s gone warm.” He hummed, sipping the warm beer casually.

“I could’ve just got a new one.”

“Ain’t no point wasting beer, hen, don’t worry about it.”

“Hen?” I asked back with a short laugh, and he simply ignored it, instead his attention being dragged to the other Sergeants that were pulling him out of the couch and towards another table.

He returned back a lot more drinks later, being the ‘victor’ of beer pong. He lost, but he says that was intentional so he could drink more.

“It’s a self-proclaimed victory.” He claimed with a slurred laugh, rotating his wrist in circles, motioning blanky, moving his hands for the sake of moving them. “They think they won, builds morale, makes ‘em not sooky that I win everythin’, and I get to get drunk.” He winked.

“That’s what you call it?”

“Yeah, it’s like, uh, when you let your little bruther win a game, y’know? You let him win because it makes him ‘appy, not ‘cause he’s actually better than you, but you’re a good bruther for letting him win, right?”

“You’re an asshole.” I laughed while sipping my drink. 

A lot more drinks later, and he was staring from across the room, fiddling with the lighter in his hands. He noticed Simon staring at him, and he simply scoffed, shoving his metal lighter into his pocket and sauntering over.

“Hey, y’got a light?” He lied through his teeth despite his inebriated state. “‘M gonna go for a smoke.”

“Yeah, I’ll, uh- I’ll come with you.” I smiled, grabbing my drink and following behind him quickly as he made his exit to the fresh air outside. Hovering by the doorway, I handed him my lighter, and he placed the cigarette between his lips.

“Thanks.” He spoke quietly, trying to hide the slight slur to his voice, his eyes glued to the struggling lighter. His thumb brushed the gears, yet it would spark and sputter without a flame. 

I took the lighter from his hands, shaking it and flicking it briefly to life. “You gotta shake it.” I held the flame up, lighting his cigarette for him and he kept eye contact with his deep inhale. The cigarette barely lit before the flame died out, he got one good inhale, blowing the smoke to the side before the cigarette was burnt out.

“I think it’s about time y’get a new one.” He commented, a short grimace of dissatisfaction crossing his face before replacing it with a grateful smile, not wanting to look sour.

“Mhmhm, and what happened to your lighter?” I deflected the issue.

“Ah, Si’s got it.” He responded quickly. I leant against the wall and took a sip of my drink, and he slumped against it with me, a loud ‘thump’ as his body weight collided with the concrete. “You really should know better than to light me up.” He joked, putting the cigarette away in the pack for later.

“You’re the idiot who couldn’t do it himself.” I laughed, finding his slight frustration somewhat amusing.

“You’re the one with a dead lighter, why do I have to shake it?”

“Don’t bum yours out to people who don’t give it back.”

“He will.” He spoke, his composure faltered and he started laughing at the lighthearted argument. He looked at me and just giggled to himself. “Fuck, y’so..”

“So?” I tilted my head, stifling a few more drunken laughs.

“Pretty.” He admitted with a soft exhale between laughs. “God, you’re so pretty.” He said, leaning in closer towards me, his breath smelling of smoke and beer as it filled the short space between us, the cold air being replaced quickly.

“Yeah? You think?” I felt the heat of my cheeks rise, definitely not helped by the drunken haze. He hummed with a nod. “Well.. I think.. there’s nothing wrong with my lighter.”

“Oh my god.” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, nothin’ wrong wit’ it for the 3 seconds I had to use it. Just get a new one.”

“If I need a light, I’ll use yours. How about that?”

“What if ’m not around?”

“You’re always around.”

“Y/n. You’re ruining the moment.”

“We’re having a moment?” I joked and he grabbed my face, pressing his lips into mine without any further hesitation.

He held his lips there. “That’s f’the light, smokin’ rules and all’a that.” He mumbled, pulling away for a second to glance over my face, before kissing me again.

“And that’s for?”

“Shut up, was meant t’kiss you when I called you pretty but y’ruined it.”

“So that’s for being pretty?”

“I said shut up.” He laughed against my lips, his arms wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me into him. I laughed with him, my legs feeling like jelly from the mixture of alcohol and butterflies. “Been trying to kiss you all night but just couldn’t figure out how to.” He admitted with a light laugh as his lips chased mine before he kissed me again.

He held my body up and close to him, turning our position so his large figure covered me from view, low chuckles leaving his throat and filling the tight space between us. “Didn’t even think you’d snog me back.” He teased, his hands practically glued to my face and waist, holding me as close to him as possible. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” I panted, the tone was light but it was still a heavy question.

“I mean, knew y’liked me but didn’t think it was this much.” He joked. “Thought you’d be distracted by my shite patter.”

“It was pretty shit.”

“Cheers.” He huffed in amusement, he leant in closer once again, making it clear he wanted to cut the banter, he kissed the corner of my mouth lightly. “Gonna kiss or gonna talk all through it?” He joked lightly before continuing his actions.

“Can’t do both?” I smiled, and it was met with a dramatic sigh.

“We can talk for the rest o’the night, hen, ain’t got all night for this.” He responded. “Someone’ll wonder where we’ve gone, but they’re probably glad I’m not kickin’ their arses.” He couldn’t stop laughing at his own words, evidently prideful over his accomplishment of being best at insert-any-party-game-here in the entire barracks. “Your lips are softer than I could’ve imagined, jus’, c’mon, hen, kiss me.” He pleaded.

“Johnny, you’re giggling too much.” It was admittedly infectious, the warm feeling spreading to my chest. “Someone could hear us.”

“Who cares? ’M sure no one’s listening, and it's not like we’re bein’ secretive.”

“We’re just ... Two friends havin’ a smoke.”

“Mhm, just friends.” His voice dipped, almost a whisper, his tone changed quickly. His demeanour stayed calm, and indifferent, though his words were almost sour. “Don’t know where anyone would get any other idea about us from.”

“Oh, c’mon, Johnny.” I dismissed, leaning closer to him. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” His body still covered mine like a shield, his strong arms holding me in place as his eyes flicked.

“So what did you mean?”

I shook my head, my lips ghosting over his. “Don’t overthink it.” I whispered, and his hand gently cupped my face.

“Hard not to.” He moved closer, closing the short distance, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip. My hands wrapped around his neck, tugging slightly on the mohawk and earning a short whimper.

He pulled away for a moment, licking his lips. “I could go for ‘nother drink.” I joked, and he gave a light scoff.

His ears perked up at the clicking sound of the door opening, though he simply kept looking into my eyes, biting back any comments he could have. His reaction seemed to just be to hunch himself over me fully.

“Subtle.” The Ghost commented dryly; “Real subtle.” He’d evidently only checked on us to prove something to himself, and his sarcastic attitude matched that he found exactly what he expected. The pinnacle of crude.

“What do you want, Lt?” He grinned, not pulling away from me. He tried to keep the movements going into sync, though the fogginess of the liquor and the laughter between us made it hard for him to keep his focus.

He hissed inwardly. “What’s-his-face wants a rematch.” He said matter-of-factly before continuing; “They want you inside but I can see you’re busy. I’ll, uh, let you continue this.” He thought his comment was funny, before turning quickly on his heel.

Johnny’s soft chuckles filled the air and he pulled away for a moment. “I lied about the lighter, by the way.”

“Course you did.”

[thisfanisgonesorry]

MY CPT PRICE YOUTOOZ GOT HERE TODAY <3<3<3

[thisfanisgonesorry]

hii!! im so sorry for dying but ive been SUPER sick lately </3 im having a hard time getting help from doctors cos its christmas/im afab but!! im gonna get well soon!! promise!!

[thisfanisgonesorry]

oh my god happy birthday!!! its tf-TWO years old (haha)

checkup — medic tf2

i do requests so hmu ;)

cw: nsfw, fingering/oral strictly, hardcore medical malpractice lol, cant lose a medical license twice!, ending could be considered angst??, could possibly get a pt2?, dell is implied to be ludwigs assistant, dell is wingman 101 and i love him. slight tw for mentions of blood + use of needles.

;; Dell had noticed I hadn’t been as energetic as I usually am, and told me to sit in the waiting room. He instructed me to wait for him and Ludwig to finish up while they were doing god-knows-what. He told me to arrive at 5:30, and at 5:48, the doors opened as they exchanged goodbyes, Dell giving me a lazy wave as he kept walking. Ludwig sat next to me, he was glad to see me but frowned, as a doctor, you never want to know people need to see you, especially your friends. “What’s wrong?” He spoke through his thick accent. I took a deep breath and tried gathering my nerves as he prodded at me. Feeling my forehead with the back of his hand and examining parts of my face. “Yeah, I’ve just been feeling, um, well, not great.” He nodded, not getting much information from me. He stood up and gestured to the doorway, following behind me as I walked in and sat on the table. He pulled out his tools and began prodding once again, testing my pupils and looking at my ears. “I’m going to need more than ‘I’ve been feeling not great.’” I swallowed hard, trying to pinpoint what was wrong with me as he continued prodding with every medical tool he had, “I’ve been feeling tired all the time and I just feel bad, I guess. I don’t really know.” “Right. Let me take your blood?” He said more as a statement than a question as he pulled out the required instruments. Grabbing my arm and fitting a belt around it to pull it tight as he muttered to himself in german. As his fingers lingered on the pulse, he slowly pulled out the needle, attaching the vile and began filling it with blood. “You did well.” He spoke as he turned around, putting the vile of blood into one of the fancy machines that Dell made him. “Are you alright, Fräulein?” “Yeah, fine. lightheaded.” I spoke, watching him use his machine. He stared at the screen confused, raising an eyebrow. “It says there’s nothing wrong with you. Everything seems fine.” He dug around in his drawers to find some loose pieces of paper with questions on it, he skimmed through it before landing on one page, having an audible a-ha moment. “Alright, I’m going to ask you some questions.” I nodded as he panned down the list asking various things, such as if I’m on any prescription drugs, if I have any diagnosed illnesses, questions Dr Ludwig already knew answers to through the team’s routine checkups. He landed on one question and hesitated, clearing his throat. “What?” I asked, a little worried at his hesitance. “Are you sexually active?” “No.” I said quickly, regretting how I said so with no hesitation. He nodded and looked down at the paper, swallowing hard. He smiled as he made it clear he was through his questions, putting it away in a random drawer. He continued looking for something to rationalise my tiredness. “You know, orgasms are good for your health.” He spoke, clearing his throat. Ludwig made short eye contact with me before speaking again. “It can regulate your menstrual cycle, boost your immune system, it’s a natural painkiller, it can do a lot for you, besides make you feel good. Orgasms help you feel less stressed and uh, sleep better, of course.” “..So are you prescribing me to masturbate?” I joked. “Yes, I suppose.” He said, looking at me breathlessly. He stood in front of me and placed his hands on his table to my sides. “Or, as your Doctor, I could help you. Professionally. For your health.” He looked at my lips as he licked his own, waiting for some form of consent as I sat there in shock that he offered. He was my friend— an incredibly good looking one at that. I’d fantasised about doing things with him before but never actually thought the situation would arise. I guess it made sense, with the secret glances we’d catch the other doing and things of the like. The small things that tried to scream for the others’ attention. “Please.” I said, “professionally, of course. For my health.” He smiled before pulling himself together, “Yes. Uh, We should—” He spoke coolly though underneath he was frantic. I could tell he wasn’t really sure where to start, not expecting

getting this far. He moved his hands onto my hips and took a sharp inhale, watching me intently; I watched him back just as much. He leant closer to me and glanced at my lips before firmly meeting them with his own, it was sweet and somehow felt professional; he tasted sweet also. He pulled away with wide eyes before hungrily going in for more. His hands grabbed at anything they could as he tried to keep himself grounded, lips staying connected until we both pulled away panting for air. “I need you to lay down and I, uh, need to take these off.” He said, gesturing to my pants, I layed down while supporting myself on my elbows. He looked up at me, making eye contact as he quickly removed my pants, pulling them off my legs and staring down at my underwear. He was mesmerised, his hands rested on my hips once again as he took in that he was really in this situation. My legs dangled off the table as he sat kneeled between them. He looked up at me, examining for any sign of discomfort before he pulled off my underwear, looking at my bareness. With a finger, he felt the wetness and took a deep breath as he teased the entrance. He quickly spat onto his middle and ring finger as he slowly pushed them inside me. He curled them while setting a slow thrusting pace. I inhaled sharply as he continued working me with his large and talented hands. I let out a whine and began grinding against his palm, trying desperately for more friction. He smiled to himself before removing his fingers and placing them in his mouth. “Tastes sweet.” He said, before placing an innocent kiss on my clit. I could feel his breathing quicken as he dove into eating me out. I let out a strangled moan as he pulled away to hush me, “this room isn’t as sound proof as you’d think.” He licked his lips before going back in, lapping up the sweetness. He glanced up to see my writhe underneath his tongue, smirking as he continued suckling on my clit, pushing his fingers back into me again, continuing his previous actions. “Ah, more, please, more!” I moaned, stunning him for a moment before he picked up the pace with his tongue and fingers. “Gott, meine Liebling” He mumbled against my skin, “so good.” The mixture of his actions and his native tongue pushed me closer to the edge, as his actions got more desperate, I felt the orgasm inch nearer, starting to get just as desperate, riding his face and trying to fuck myself on his hand, his long fingers reaching all the right spots. The lewd sounds of the wetness and my moans filled the room, momentarily forgetting what he had said only a few minutes prior. I continued to ride Ludwigs face with reckless abandon, like nothing else existed in this moment except for us trying our hardest for my pleasure. My legs desperately tried to close around his head, though he used his spare hand to push my thighs apart. I trembled as the strangled cries of my climax left my throat, throwing my head back and almost going limp on the cold table. He removed his fingers, and I could feel the doctor try and swallow as much as he could as the orgasm rode out, pulling away with a string of a mixture of cum and saliva connecting his lips to my body, he licked his lips, breaking the connection. I laid there panting, limp and sweaty, looking up at the man standing above me, he frowned down at me as he turned around, washing his hands and grabbing a cloth to dampen. Gently using it to clean the sweaty crevices and the sensitive spot his mouth once was attached. He lazily threw it in his sink as he sighed, placing my pants and underwear on the table next to me. Still out of breath, I sat up and hesitantly put my pants on, he watched me with a semi-emotionless gaze. Ludwig gave me a hand, helping me stand though I wobbled like a baby deer. “Come see me again.” He said softly, before stiffening up and swallowing hard. “For a check up.” Yeah, smooth. Real smooth, Ludwig. I nodded, “I will.” I mentally facepalmed at the awkward ending to a more than pleasant interaction. I waved goodbye as I left his infirmary, walking down the empty

hallway

groggily. I was exhausted after that; maybe I’ll be able to sleep this tiredness away.

[thisfanisgonesorry]

are we in a fanfic drought or what (i have so many drafts i cant tell whats what) (everything i read lately just doesnt do it for me)

[thisfanisgonesorry]

friendly reminder to tag your mw3 spoilers or i'll send a pipebomb to your house ^^

[thisfanisgonesorry]

if i see a single mw3 spoiler i swear to god