#he could have learn on his own or he could have asked | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

en-ternity · 23 hours

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⋅ GENRES: established relationship; fluff & smut

⋅ PAIRING: Jongseong x fem!reader

⋅ WORD COUNT: 2.7K

⋅ WARNINGS: down bad!Jongseong trying to be rough with you for the first time in bed; a single smack; unprotected sex

special thanks to @ikeuverse. you know this story wouldn’t have come out without you! and also, special thanks to everyone who gave me the signals to post it! it’s my first plotless smut, but i hope it is at least enjoyable! ♡

It had been bold of you, that was for certain.

But aside from Jongseong’s whispered jokes of desiring to eat you alive, your boyfriend never had been anything but gentle with you in bed. Kind hands and soft touches, always patient, and always putting you first. Not that it was bad — no, he was the best you ever had. But it had been inevitable for you to not grow curious about what he meant by his eccentric statement.

So you asked.

The soft light of the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over Jongseong’s bedroom as it began its descent below the horizon, patches of rose gold reflecting on his television and making the movie he had put on hard to see — and maybe it had been the reason why he had lost his interest not even twenty minutes into it, his calloused fingers finding that strip of skin between your skirt and top, coaxing you into his lap until your legs were straddling his hips, knees comfortably digging into his mattress and your hands clutching at his shoulders, just as he liked it.

“I thought you wanted to watch the movie,” you said. But Jongseong was already busy, lips finding the base of your neck, trailing the expanse of your throat with soft kisses. And when he noticed that your statement required a reply, it came as an incoherent murmur, a huff of air that got you coiling yourself because it tickled.

He laughed at you then, not meaning to be unkind, but simply and merely amused by you.

“You are so cute. I could eat you alive,” he said, the last word coming as a bite in the air, a playful act that you knew just as much as the conjunct of phrases itself, but still — it made you stop.

Your sex life with Jongseong wasn’t exactly new. You had lost count of the times he had already made you come around him, from lazy make-out sessions in the front seat of his car to the hot press of your bodies into the mattress of your bedrooms, he never failed to. It had been months of discovering each other — months of learning how the other liked to be kissed, touched, and even teased. And throughout the course of it, you would be lying if you ever said you hadn’t heard this same conjunct of phrases quite a lot, but never Jongseong had been anything but gentle with you, kind hands and soft touches giving no real indication of what he truly meant by his eccentric statement and it had been inevitable for you to not grow curious.

“Jay?”

“Yes, love?”

“I just-” you started, tongue already rolling into the question, but you felt Jongseong shifting beneath you, leaning himself against his bed’s headboard as he tried to get a better view of you, eyes searching for yours with so much care — you felt a flush of warmth creeping up to your cheeks and the words stuttered and stammered, turning too shy to leave your mouth in case it ricocheted.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

You shook your head at his question, hands suddenly too restless to stay promptly at his shoulders, so you concentrated on playing with the sewing of his dark t-shirt, the tip of your fingers pinching at the lines with an attention that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Tell me,” he tried again, his voice coming even softer than before. “You know I don’t like it when you seem bothered.”

“I just — I just got curious about what you mean by it,” you said. “Eating me alive.”

Although you didn’t give yourself enough time to doubt the wisdom of saying it this time, the words came weakly — almost too silent for your own ears, and for a moment you doubted Jongseong had heard it. But then, he stopped, a sharp swallow going into his lungs.

He looked at you as if he was searching for something that told him you were joking — teasing him for being so down for you because that was how your relationship had been built, but when he found none, he reached for you, fingers barely ghosting over your skin, cupping your cheek, and curling under your jaw so he could gently tilt you up to him. The remaining luminosity turned his eyes lighter, a blend of honey and whisky as his lashes cast shadows over his flushed cheeks and you felt your chest easing.

You were a fool for thinking Park Jongseong would ever do anything to hurt you.

“Is it what’s bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering,” you said. “I just got curious.”

Jongseong hummed at you, lips twitching into a smile, and when he laughed, eyes slightly closing, you didn’t feel offended. You knew Jongseong all too well to figure it had been solely out of embarrassment.

“Well, it’s just what it sounds like,” he admitted. “You are so cute that sometimes I don’t know what to do. I want to pin you against a wall, turn you over on the bed — be a little mean, you know? Eat you alive.”

“And why- why have you never tried?” you asked.

“Would you want me to?”

“Yes,” you said, cheeks suddenly too warm. “I would want you to.”

His gaze flitted down to your lips, and back up to your eyes. It took him another breath to push the tip of his fingers further through you, and around your ear, cradling the back of your neck and pulling you so close that you did not only hear his next words but felt them against your lips, warm and sweet smelling, caramel and coffee from the frappuccino you had shared early on.

“If you change your mind and feel like stopping, you will have to tell me, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Alright,” he echoed.

Jongseong found your lips as easily as he always did: a pinch against your bottom lip that made you sigh into him, mouths parted together, lips slotting in the same rhythm that never failed to make you melt against him. But the familiarity of the act ended there. Soon enough, he was licking over you, deeper, messier — needier. His thumb pressed on the corner of your mouth, keeping you all open and nice for him, and if it wasn’t enough to make you whine, clutching your hands on his clothes when he shifted beneath you, pressing the solid length of himself against you was.

He cursed when you grind against him, a gasp for air, that made you part away. But Jongseong didn’t do anything to stop you. Instead, he tightened his grip on your hair as he rolled against you too, desire swirling through his eyes as he looked at where your skin met his denim jeans.

His hand left the purchase of your hair only to roam up your sides, taking the hem of your top, lifting it from around your waist, and up through your head. You could swear you felt all the callousness at his hands, the impact of all the time he spent playing with his guitars and you shiver with the roughness.

For a moment, you sat there looking at each other, his hands on your bare back, and then his forehead landed on your collarbone with a gentle thud, drawing the tip of his nose along the swell of your breasts.

“You are so pretty,” he said, and your breath caught like he hadn’t called you that before, but you couldn’t think much about the compliment because Jongseong was already pulling one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking it to a solid point, and making your back arch, eyes fluttering to the ceiling. The act alone was so pleasurable that a desperate sound escaped through before you couldn’t even notice it, and he took it as an incentive to move to your other nipple, his tongue drawing a faint line into your chest.

“Jay, I-,” you began, his name coming so breathy and timid. He couldn’t help but groan into you. He never had heard your voice so full of wishes like this. And maybe that was exactly what broke him.

He was really going to eat you alive.

“Bend over for me,” he said, abruptly and all at once letting you go.

You blinked, his words meeting a deadlock between your ears and brain, and it immediately made him chuckle.

“Are you already having second thoughts?” he asked. Condescension dripped from him, words liquid, and sticky. He ran the back of his knuckles down through your cheek, his thumb dragging over your lips before he pushed it at your mouth. It was a mild thing that barely had your lips part for him, but you opened your mouth anyway, allowing him to press the digit against your tongue.

“Bend over,” he tried again, his voice lower this time, demanding. And that’s what made you move, turning on the mattress. Hands and knees pushed to the sheets of his bed. Your skirt gathered at the curve of your hips with your new position, pooling in the cradle there and leaving only your panties to cover you, lacy trims, and a color that contracted way too prettily with your skin.

You couldn’t see Jongseong, couldn’t guess what he was doing, but you felt him moving into the space between your calves, hands promptly finding your hips as his knees pushed at your own, spreading them further before he hummed, an appreciative sound that made you burn.

“So fucking cute,” he said. And you weren’t sure how you could look cute in this position, but you didn’t retort — you couldn’t retort. Jongseong was already grazing a palm down to you, rolling over the bare expanse of the back of your thigh, and when he retreated, it came as a smack.

You sobbed with the act, a perhaps too-hurting sound because Jongseong stopped, palm spreading on you again, but this time caressing the reddish skin.

“Are you alright?” he asked, hushed and sweltering with tenderness. All the teasing suddenly forgotten and turned into concern.

And God, you loved him.

“I am,” you declared, but he didn’t go back to his doings.

“Are you sure?”

“Jay,” you whined.

“Ok, I got you,” he whispered, the words coming more like a tight exhale. “You know I got you.”

“I always do everything you ask me to, don’t I?” he asked, fingers flirting with the laced trim of your panties, and you almost expected him to pull the piece down, over your legs, and to the mattress with no ado. But instead, Jongseong swiped over it, barely there touches that didn’t even part you beneath the cotton, yet it was enough to make you falter, your hands trembling against his sheets.

It was maddening, the soft lilt of his fingers, teasing, gentle, earnest all at once.

You wanted to cry when he pressed a little bit harder, his middle finger nudging up against your entrance and making the cotton grow damp beneath the tip of his fingers, clinging to you and giving him the outline of everything.

You were sure you did cry when he finally pulled your panties aside, slipping a single finger inside and making you clench around him, a tight hold that got him swearing when you moved backward, chasing for more. He pulled you into him, his free hand grabbing at your hips so tightly you were sure he was leaving a mark — you wanted him to leave a mark.

He could tell you weren’t holding back anymore, whines tumbling from your lips when he slid another finger in, pushing it all the way in before he moved it back, skin coming glinting from you.

And his mind slipped away.

He wasn’t sure anymore of what to do anymore, fuck you on his fingers, or turn you around, pull his aching length on you like you both were used to. So he did the easier one. Pushing his fingers in and out, squelching sounds filling the room altogether with your moans.

You could feel your body coiling tighter and tighter around him, and if it was already hard to breathe, he made it almost impossible when he decided to hold onto your neck instead, setting his free hand against your hot skin, thumb stroking down the column of it as his palms curled nicely, tilting your head back so when he leaned on you, his lips met ears.

“See?” he cooed. “I always give what my spoiled baby wants.”

You were sure you gasped his name, eyes fluttering closed as you felt your orgasm crashing through your body, easing it and giving all your weight for Jongseong to take.

He shifted you easily through the mattress, manhandling you back onto his mattress in the bare second you took to open your eyes, blinking at the new light a few times before you could take the image of him moving in between your legs, pushing his fingers into his mouth. His tongue wrapped around it, licking over the pads, and most definitely tasting you. You watched as his chest rumbling with a groan before he let it go with a dirty pop.

Your cheeks grew a tone darker and he knew — he couldn’t last much longer if he kept up with it. Straining in his jeans like a teenager. So he was pulling off his shirt, hands gripping the back of his collar to rip it over his head and join the rest of your clothing. He popped the button of his jeans and slipped it down with his boxers. The sight of him all red and dirty with precum made it impossible for you to not reach for him, but he stopped you mid-motion, fingers curling around your wrist as he brought it above your head and into the mattress.

“C’mon, baby, leave everything to me,” Jongseong said, and you were way beyond rational thoughts to retort, doing whatever he wanted and allowing his fingers to curl at your skirt — at laced trim of your panties, hands almost adoring as he dragged the last clothing down over your legs before his lips were on you again, tongue pressing against yours, and still tasting like you.

You folded your legs around his waist, thighs clenching around him, squeezing him almost unconsciously as he crowded into you, hands reaching towards yours again, quickly interlocking your fingers as he held himself over and into you.

He hissed, looking down between your bodies, eyes glazed as he watched how you fit together, not being able to help but clutch at your fingers.

“You’re so pretty,” he said. His voice had dropped that teasing tone once again, sounding so genuine it made your chest ache and you were suddenly back to being desperate as you clutched back into him, fingers twisting almost painfully against each other.

“Are you sure-” he started, but he didn’t need to finish it for you to know. You already had heard the concern in his voice so you only reached for him, pressing a kiss over his mouth, his jaw, catching his birthmark with a tenderness that didn’t match the words that followed.

“Just fuck me, Park Jongseong,” you said, and you weren’t sure if he had laughed, cried, or simply huffed air past his lips, but his hips were suddenly moving with the impatience and greed he had repressed through all those months of whispered teases.

It was fast, messy — dirty slides in and out of you, the sounds of how wet he’d made you filling his bedroom and making him groan a little bit too loud.

He came when you did, as defenseless and relinquished as he could be, pulling away almost as if it broke him to let you go.

You weren’t sure when the sun had finished settling, but when Jongseong collapsed down beside you, reaching out and curling his arms around you once again, bringing you closer to him and kissing your temple, his room was already dark, the white light of street lamps illuminating him together with the movie still rolling instead.

“Curiosity ceased?” he asked.

“I am not sure. We might have to try another day for me to give you a concrete reply,” you said. “You haven’t pinned me against a wall still.”

He laughed then, a burst of sound whistling through the room.

“You are so cute,” he said. “I could eat you alive.”

#enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen x reader #park jongseong #enhypen jay #jay x reader #jay smut

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ebbaskitchen · 3 days

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Jujutsu Kaisen x You

scenario - things they learned to love about the way you treat them <3

includes - Geto Suguru & Gojo Satoru

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Geto Suguru - the way you love his hair

Before even dating you, Suguru noticed the way you’d admire his hair. Yes, you always complimented that he looked handsome and that his outfit was well coordinated - but he can never miss the way your face lights up when you talk about his hair—

“It looks so soft and shiny,” you would smile while hanging out with Suguru at the park, taking an evening stroll with him. He would start to look around, trying to attach an object to the claim you’ve just spoken. Only when he turned to you did he realize you were looking at his head full of hair. Genuinely flustered, he would just laugh — a lovely sound that rings delicately in your ears.

A few months into your relationship, he found it fascinating how you’re still gushing over the flawless quality of his hair.

“Suguruuu… Can I help you wash it?” You asked him, looking down at him while his head — and his hair —- lay on your lap, fingers stayed tangled up in the strands, combing through them so gently as if they were made of diamonds.

“Hmm?” He would hum in question, his cheeks rising in a soft smile from the way you called his name. Looking up from his phone to see you focused on his hair, he would smile and answer, “sure.” You grew excited… and continued to inquire.

“Can I help you style it?” You would ask again. And again he would answer with a simple, “sure”. When he looked up at you from your lap a second time, he could tell another question was formulating in your head.

“Sure,” he would say with his natural honey-like smile, before you could even ask your next question.

Now almost a year and a half into the relationship, you still admire his hair as if you’d just seen it for the first time that day. Suguru has made it part of his regular routine, when he wakes up in the morning and looks in the mirror, to remind himself to not style his hair because “(y/n) likes it better down” or “she’ll probably want to play with it later”. He would smile softly at his own reflection upon realizing how he’s grown accustomed to the way you’re so infatuated with his hair; how something so simple can make you so happy. With the same honey smile as always, he would walk out of the bathroom, ready to wake you up and share another satisfying day with your fingers brushing his hair.

Gojo Satoru - the way you look at him

Gojo is known to be popular, flirtatious, charming, and everything else a girl could and would desire. And, naturally, those impeccable charms worked on you too. Though you did develop a small crush on him from your first meeting — which he assumes is a natural reaction from anyone towards him — the way you presented it was … different.

“I’m telling you — she’s got these eyes-“ Satoru whines to Suguru, his best friend, as the two hang out in the school’s gym after classes.

“Satoru, just admit you have a crus—“

“SHE HYPNOTIZED ME!!!!”

Suguru had to put up with a lot when Satoru was still trying to figure out what you had done to him with your eyes. Your eyes that looked at him with adoration and kindness, not just for the pleasure of it being Gojo, they had broken him.

Still slightly curious about you, Satoru would continue to meet you, tease you, tell jokes to you — and the more he did those things, the more confused he became. Because why did you laugh so sweetly at the things his friends would call dumb? And why did you get so shy when he teased you instead of pushing him away or flirting back like the others? And why did you look at him like he was the sun — or something?

“QUIT IT!” He would scold, a bit flustered by your gaze again. You would tilt your head in confusion and his heart would just burst at that point. You were too adorable for him to handle and both, you and him, had no idea what you were doing to his heart.

Just a moment ago, he was teasing you and walking with a playful arm around your shoulder, making you shy away; but once he had stopped talking, the way you turned to look at him with such adoring, starry eyes, he couldn’t help but malfunction, scold you, and proceed to storm away. And you, adoring Satoru for just being who he is, let out a soft giggle and continued on with your day.

Now that Satoru had managed to sort out his feelings and both of you more or less confessed to each other, he came to realize that he had always loved the way you looked at him. He concluded that he had previously been flustered because he’d never felt something so certain from someone else in his life before. Such delicate irises of (your eye color) that captured his radiating blue ones, he couldn’t help but feel loved under your affectionate gaze. That hypnotizing stare of yours - as he would say - soothed him into the feeling of being loved by someone truly… and he knew that to you he was more than just Gojo. You loved him for the way he laughed so excitedly, the way his eyes glimmered under the sunlight, the way his voice makes your heart flutter, the way he shows you affection by teasing you, the way he buys you things because they remind him of you, the way he likes to take you on all of his adventures, and the list goes on…

He can now tell all that from one look in your eyes.

“Don’t stop—“ He would say in a low voice, grabbing your chin gently between his long fingers and pulling your face towards him and away from the movie that was playing.

With your cheeks and lips a little squashed in his single-handed hold, it was hard to speak, but you still managed to ask, “stop what—?”

“Looking at me.” He would whisper, getting lost in your eyes and the way they made him feel like he was home.

Ebba’s Note

Thank you for reading! Have a beautiful day!

🩵

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fuzzyautumninmetal · 2 days

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Loving Husband pt 3

Olderhusband!Price 🤝 YoungerWife!Reader 🤝 Fucking in Soaps bathroom

Husband Price plagued my mind, I spent all night writing this It's over 6k words lmao

Part 2 Part 4

You pouted at John's words, "But your darling wife is hungry." You gave him your best puppy dog eyes "And she really wants her handsome husband to cook for her" John raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He'd learned long ago that it was impossible to resist those pleading eyes of yours. "Fine," he sighed dramatically. "But only because I'm such a good husband."

You smiled at John's words "The best husband actually!" You got out of the tub and to your shared bedroom to dry off, John followed close behind. Once dressed, John made his way downstairs to the kitchen where he began preparing a meal for them both. As he cooked, he couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have found someone like you. You brought light into his life, something that had been missing for a long time.

You put on of Johns shirts on, it fitted you like a dress (Well kind off, to stopped just below your ass) you went downstairs and hugged John from behind. You nestled your face into his bare back, leaving light kisses. Your hands roaming over his chest and stomach that's now a bit pudgy due to your cooking. You didn't mind, it made him 10x sexier in your mind.

John turned his head to the side, a soft smile curving his lips as he felt your warm embrace. Your touch sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, causing him to lean back against you. "I've almost finished," he murmured, his hand covering yours on his stomach. "Just a little while longer."

You nodded at John's words, you were content just being near him. You watched him cook, your gaze wandering over his body. You licked your lips subconsciously, thinking about how much you wanted him already. You wondered if he'd be up for round three after dinner....or maybe before.

John continued to cook, his mind wandering to the enticing thought of you. The image of your naked form filled his mind, making his cock twitch in anticipation. He could already feel himself getting hard at the thought of taking you again. "Just a few more minutes," he muttered under his breath, trying to focus on the task at hand.

You walked around to stand next to John, leaning against the counter. You looked up at him, biting your lower lip lightly. You reached out and placed your hand on his hip, squeezing it gently. "Mmm, you look so sexy standing there cooking for me shirtless."

John glanced down at you, a playful grin tugging at his lips. He could see the desire in your eyes, matching his own arousal. "Well, I do it for the compliments," he teased, his hand covering yours on his hip. "Although I must say, seeing you in my shirt does make me want to take it off."

"Oh? And what would you do if you took it off?" You asked playfully, your free hand moving up to rest on his chest. John's grin widened at your question, his eyes darkening with desire. His hand moved from yours on his hip to your waist, pulling you closer against him. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured huskily, "I think you know exactly what I'd do."

You giggled softly, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink. You knew exactly what John meant, and the thought of it sent a thrill through your body. You leaned up and kissed his jawline, your other hand sliding up to cup his cheek. You rubbed her thumb over his lips lightly. "Food can wait.

John's heart skipped a beat at your words, his hands tightening around your waist as he pulled you fully against him. His lips captured yours in a heated, passionate kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore your mouth.

His hands slid down to her thighs, lifting you up onto the countertop. His body settled between your legs, his erection straining in his sweats. He could already tell that this was going to be another intense round, one that would leave them both breathless and satisfied.

You wrapped your legs around John's waist, pulling him even closer to you. You moaned into his kiss, your tongue dancing with his. You hands cupped his face, holding him tightly to you. You could feel his hardness pressing against your pussy through his sweats and your shirt. You rocked your hips up to grind against him.

John groaned deeply at the feeling of you grinding against him, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. He broke away from the kiss, panting heavily as he gazed down at you. "God, you drive me crazy," he murmured huskily, his lips capturing one of your nipples through the fabric of his shirt. He suckled on it gently, his hand reaching up to cup your other breast.

Your head fell back against the cabinet, a soft moan escaping your lips as John sucked on your nipple. You arched your back pushing your breasts further into his hands. You ground your pussy harder against his cock, desperate for more contact. "And your a god damn tease!" Your hands went down to try and move his sweats down slightly.

John chuckled softly at your accusation, his teeth nipping lightly at your nipple through the fabric of his shirt. His hands squeezed your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your hardened nipples. "And you love every second of it," he murmured teasingly, his hands moving down to assist you with his sweats. He pushed them down enough to free his erect cock, the head bumping against your wet cunt. "Now that's more like it," he grinned, his hands reaching forward to grip your thighs.

You gasped softly as John freed his cock, the head pressing against your soaked cunt. You spread your legs wider, encouraging him to push inside of you. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him in for another deep kiss.

John obliged your silent request, his hand helping to guide his cock into your wet folds. He groaned deeply as he felt your tight walls clench around him, his tongue plunging into your mouth as you pulled him in for a kiss. He thrust slowly into you, savouring the sensation of being buried deep within you. His hands tightened on your thighs, his pace picking up as he began to fuck you.

You moaned into John's kiss, your tongue wrestling with his. Your hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, digging into his muscles. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, locking your feet together. You grinded your heels into his ass, urging him to go faster.

John groaned deeply at the feeling of your heels digging into his ass, your legs locked around him. He increased his pace, thrusting into you faster. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," he panted, his breath hot against your neck. "God, I love fucking you."

You whimpered and moaned loudly, your body writhing beneath John's. You threw your head back against the cabinet, biting down on your bottom lip. Your nails dug into John's shoulders, leaving small crescent shaped marks on his skin. Your body tensed, and then suddenly relaxed as an orgasm ripped through you. You screamed out loud, your entire body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Feeling your climax, John followed close behind, his own orgasm exploding within you. He growled low in his throat, his hips bucking wildly as he emptied himself into you. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding onto you as his body shook with release.

Finally, he collapsed against you, panting heavily as he buried his face in your neck, nuzzling your earlobe. "Jesus Christ, woman..." he managed to get out between ragged breaths.

You held onto John tightly, your legs still locked around his waist. You were breathing heavy, trying to catch your breath. You ran your fingers through his hair, kissing the top of his head. "Fucking hell" you rested your head on the cabinet and let out a breathless laugh. John lifted his head from your neck, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he gazed up at you. His hands slipped from your thighs to your hips, holding you firmly against him.

"Fucking hell indeed," he agreed, chuckling softly.

You smiled lazily at John, running your fingers through his hair again. You leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips before releasing your legs from around his waist. "I'm starving now" you said with a giggle. John reluctantly slid out of you with a wet pop, pulled his sweats up and began plating dinner up for you both.

John chuckled softly at your comment, shaking his head in amusement as he stepped back. "Figures," he muttered under his breath with a smile. "You've just given me 3 intense orgasms within the last hour an half... You can't expect me not to be hungry." You chuckled while giving his ass a small squeeze before sitting on the couch.

John laughed softly at you, glancing back at you over his shoulder. He gave your ass a playful squeeze in return before turning back to the food. "I suppose not," he conceded, finishing off plating the food. He carried the plates over to the coffee table in front of the sofa, setting them down before taking a seat next to you.

You sat on the couch and picked up your fork, eating a bit of everything. You hummed in delight, closing your eyes as you savoured the flavours. "Mmm... This is delicious" you glanced at John and couldn't help but imagine him as a father, running around with your child (Knowing John. Children), it brought a smile to your face. Despite you and John struggling to conceive you know it will happen.

One day.

John watched as you tasted the food, a pleased smile spreading across his face when you hummed in delight. "It tastes even better when it's shared with someone special," he commented, glancing over at you. He raised an eyebrow curiously at the sudden smile that lit up your face.

"What's got you looking all dreamy?" he asked, curious about what could have caused such a change in your expression. "Thinking about when you finally become a father. Just you running around with them, most likely with toy guns" you chuckled at the thought.

John chuckled along with you at your comment, shaking his head slightly. He reached over, placing his hand on your stomach. "One day we'll make a fine little soldier," he said quietly, his hand gently rubbing your stomach.

You placed your hand over his. Despise all the tests that came back negative over the last 2 months having John by your side made you stay positive. Even after all the nights you've cried in his shoulder. It's one of the many reasons why you love him.

John squeezed your hand gently, nodding in agreement. He knew how much they both wanted this, despite the setbacks they'd faced recently. He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "We'll get there, love," he murmured reassuringly, his hand continuing to rub gentle circles on your stomach. You sighed softly, resting your head on his shoulder. You looked up at him with a small smile, appreciating his reassurance. You kissed his cheek lightly before going back to eating.

John continued to rub your stomach, his other hand reaching for his fork as he went back to eating. He listened as you hummed in contentment, the sound filling the room and adding to the comfortable atmosphere.

"You know," he began, pausing mid-forkful of food. He glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow curiously. "If we keep this up, we might end up with more than one little soldier." You laughed softly, shaking your head at John's comment. You finished off your food before setting your fork down on the plate. "You've always said you wanted a big family"

John chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. He finished off his own food before setting his fork down, leaning back against the couch. "Well, I did say that," he admitted, glancing over at you. His hand moved from your stomach to your thigh, giving it a light squeeze.

You looked at John, smiling softly. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, wrapping your arm around his waist. "We'll get there eventually. And when we do... We're gonna need a bigger house" you teased lightly, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. John chuckled at your teasing comment, shaking his head slightly. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

The weekend came round quickly. You and John were getting ready to go to Soap's for a BBQ, you decided to wear a pretty, red sundress you know John loves so much. "Don't forget the wine" you called out to John, who was downstairs in the kitchen. "Oh and the muffins I made"

John appeared in the doorway, carrying a bottle of wine and a plate of muffins. He stopped short when he saw you in your dress, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Fuck me," he murmured, setting the items down on the counter. His gaze roamed over her appreciatively. "You look absolutely stunning, love."

You smiled softly at John's reaction, turning around slowly so he could see the whole dress. "Thank you" you spun around again, twirling around before making your way over to him. "Ready to go?" John nodded, picking up the items he had set down. He followed you over to where you stood, offering you the muffins. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, slipping his free arm around your waist.

You got to Soap's place and rang the door bell. Soap opened the door and shouted "Mom and Dad are here!" You chuckled as you gave him a hug.

Soap, Ghost and Gaz always joked that John was the dad of Task Force 141. So when you two started dating it only made sense that you became mom.

John returned Soap's hug, chuckling at the familiar greeting. He stepped aside as you walked past him, giving your ass a playful squeeze as you passed. "Looks like we're the last ones here," he remarked, following her inside. As you and John entered the backyard, they spotted Ghost and Gaz standing by the grill, talking animatedly with each other. They turned as soon as they heard footsteps, grinning widely when they saw who it was.

"About time you two showed up!" Ghost exclaimed, patting the grill before pulling out a beer for John. "Blame John. Took to long on his beard" you teased knowing John took pride in his mutton chops that you grew to love.

John rolled his eyes at your teasing, taking the beer Ghost offered him. He lifted it in a mock toast before taking a swig. "I'll have you know these chops take time to perfect," he retorted playfully, running a hand over his beard.

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes "I'm getting a glass of wine!" You gave John a kiss on the cheek and went into Soap's kitchen to open a bottle of wine. John watched as you left, his gaze trailing you until you disappeared into the house. A soft smile spread across his face, appreciating the view you provided. "She looks happy," Ghost commented, noticing John's distracted state. He nudged him lightly with his elbow. "Indeed she does," he agreed, he took another sip of beer, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

You found a wine glass and opened the bottle of wine. As you poured yourself a glass, you thought about how lucky you were to have John in your life. The way he cared for you, the way he supported you, even through the toughest times. He truly was your rock.

John sipped his beer, listening to Ghost and Gaz chat amongst themselves. His mind wandered back to the first time he met you - you were feisty, confident, and didn't give a damn what anyone thought. He fell for you instantly.

You carried your glass of wine outside, finding John chatting with Ghost, Soap and Gaz. You sat next to him, placing your hand on his knee. "Hey handsome"

"Get a room already!" Soap called out and you stuck your middle finger up at him that earned a laugh off everyone. John chuckled at Soap's remark, shrugging nonchalantly. "Maybe we will later," he quipped, winking at you.

"Johnathan Price don't be so rude" You playfully slapped him on the chest. You heard a bunch of 'Ooooo' because you used Johns full name. John laughed, catching your hand in his own. He brought it to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

"Sorry, love," he murmured, grinning mischievously.

"You better be sorry" You teased, poking his chest. "Now stop distracting me with your good looks and charm and go help Ghost and Gaz with the food"

John raised an eyebrow at your demand, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He stood, giving your ass a playful squeeze before heading over to help Ghost and Gaz. "Make sure you save some of that wine for me," he called over his shoulder, chuckling as he walked away.

John helped Ghost and Gaz finish preparing the food, a steady stream of jokes and banter flowing between them. He couldn't help but glance over at you every now and then, appreciating the sight of you laughing alongside Soap. Once everything was ready, they all gathered around the table to eat. The conversation flowed easily throughout the meal, filled with laughter and camaraderie.

"So how's the baby making going?" Soap asked.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz knew you and John were struggling to conceive but helped you two stay positive. Over the past 2 months they've supported you both and were always there to comfort you both when a test came back negative.

John chuckled at Soap's question, shaking his head slightly. He reached under the table, giving your thigh a reassuring squeeze. "It's been... interesting," he admitted, trying to keep his tone light despite the underlying frustration. "But we won't give up."

"Well. When it does happen I'm uncle Soap" he grinned, trying to lighten the mood. It worked. You giggled and questioned "Uncle Soap? Wouldn't it be uncle Johnny?" Soap shook his head "Nope. Uncle Soap." Gaz then chimed in "I want to be uncle Gaz." You looked at Ghost who just shrugged with a smile "I'll just be Ghost". You rolled your eyes at him while chuckling "Obviously"

John laughed heartily at their playful banter, slapping Soap on the back. "Fair enough, mate," he said, nodding in agreement. "Just make sure you spoil the little tyke rotten." He glanced over at you, seeing the fond smile on your face. He squeezed your thigh again, feeling a surge of hopefulness. You laughed along with everyone else, appreciating their support. You leaned into John, resting your head on his shoulder.

As the day wore on you all laughed, joked and drank. A lot. Which meant you got a bit too touchy with John. (He didn't mind. Of course he didn't mind. Why would he mind?)

Throughout the evening, John found himself stealing glances at you. Your laughter rang out clear and true amidst the din of voices, your eyes sparkling with mirth. Every touch, every brush of your hand against his sent a jolt of desire coursing through him.

As the night wore on and the alcohol loosened tongues further, conversations became more risqué. Jokes about bedroom antics were made, causing John's cock to twitch in anticipation.

The more you drank the more handsy you became with John. Your fingers traced circles on his thigh and occasionally drifted upwards towards his crotch. It wasn't intentional but you were having fun and enjoying the attention you were getting from John.

John let out a low growl as your fingers brushed against his growing bulge, his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide his arousal. He leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your ear. "Careful, love," he warned, a wicked grin playing on his lips. "Or we might end up taking Soap's advice a bit too literally."

You giggled, biting your lip "Oh really?" Your hand moved higher, stroking his length through his pants. "That would be a shame."

John groaned softly as your hand continued its teasing exploration, his cock throbbing eagerly beneath your touch. He shifted again, trying to alleviate the pressure building within him. "You're killing me here, love," he muttered, his voice strained. "And I'm not sure Soap would approve."

You grinned devilishly at John's words, continuing to stroke him through his pants. You leaned in close, whispering in his ear "He doesn't need to know." You stopped stroking him and stood up abruptly. "I'm just going to freshen up" you told everyone while glancing a John. Giving him a small smirk as you walked off.

John watched as you sauntered off, a flush creeping onto his cheeks. His cock throbbed painfully in his pants, desperate for release. He glanced over at Soap, who was engaged in conversation with Ghost and Gaz. Satisfied that no one was looking, he slipped off his chair and followed after you.

John caught up with you in the hallway, closing the distance between them quickly. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you into the bathroom. "C'mere," he murmured, shutting the door behind them.

You let yourself be pulled into the bathroom, a sly smile on your face. As soon as the door was shut John roughly pushed you against the bathroom counter, his hands gripping your hips tightly. His fingers traced over the hem of your dress, slowly pushing it up until it pooled around your waist.

His other hand reached down, sliding underneath your panties to find your wet folds. He groaned in pleasure at the feel of your heat, teasing your clit with slow circles. "Don't think I won't spank your arse if you make any noise," he warned, nipping at her earlobe.

You gasped as John's fingers found your soaked pussy. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he began circling your sensitive clit. You looked over your shoulder, smirking at him "Mmm don't threaten what you aren't prepared to do"

John grunted at your challenge, his fingers continuing their torturous tease. He pressed harder against your clit, pinching it gently between his thumb and forefinger. "I can handle anything you dish out," he assured you, leaning in to nip at the curve of your neck. "Now behave yourself."

You whimpered as John continued to play with your clit, pressing harder against it. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms to try and hold back the moans threatening to escape your throat.

John could feel your body trembling beneath his touch, your arousal coating his fingers. He continued to tease your clit, his other hand reaching around to cup one of your breasts.

"Such a naughty girl," he whispered in your ear. "Making me fuck you in our friend's bathroom."

You moaned quietly as John continued to play with your clit, your body arching back against him. You ground your hips against his hand, desperate for more friction.

John chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers continued to move, rubbing against your clit in slow circles. "Impatient, aren't we?" he taunted, giving your ass a sharp slap. "You'll get what you want when I'm ready to give it to you."

You yelped as John slapped your ass, the sting sending a shiver down your spine. You gritted your teeth, trying to suppress the moans threatening to break free as he continued to tease your clit. John groaned in pleasure as your juices coated his fingers, your tight hole clenching around nothing. He gave your ass another hard smack, relishing the way you squirmed under his touch.

"That's it," his voice husky with desire. "Let me hear you beg." You whimpered as John continued to tease your clit, your body shaking with pent-up frustration. You turned to look at him over your shoulder, biting your lip to hold back a moan. "Please... I need more"

John chuckled darkly, his fingers stilling on your clit. He leaned in, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "Not good enough," he murmured, giving your ass another sharp slap. "Beg properly or I'll stop altogether."

You whined as John stopped playing with your clit, the sudden lack of stimulation making you ache even more. You gripped the edge of the countertop, biting down on your bottom lip to keep quiet. "Please fuck me John. Please"

John groaned in pleasure at your plea, his cock throbbing with need. He released your hip, reaching down to unbutton his jeans.

"Good girl," he praised, pulling out his hardening cock. "Now spread those legs."

You obeyed John, spreading your legs wide apart. You looked back at him, biting your lip as he undid his pants. You could see his cock straining against his boxers, eager for release. John groaned in pleasure as he saw your wetness glistening on your thighs, your tight little cunt begging to be filled. He stepped forward, positioning himself behind you.

"God," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "I'm so fucking lucky that you're my wife."

You smiled at John's words, turning to look at him over your shoulder. Your eyes were glazed with desire as you watched him position himself behind you. "I am lucky too... I have a husband who knows how to treat a woman right"

John growled in response, his hand reaching down to grip his cock. He positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you by dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds. "Mmm..." he hummed, nuzzling your neck. "And I have a wife who knows how to make a man feel like a king."

You moaned as John teased your entrance with the head of his cock, your body yearning for him. You pressed yourself back against him. "Stop being a fucking tease... please"

John chuckled, his hand tightening around his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you by pushing in only an inch. "Oh, I'm not done teasing yet," he warned. "But since you asked so nicely..." With that, he thrust deep inside you, filling you completely with his hard cock. He groaned in pleasure, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "There we go," he murmured, his hips beginning to move. "That's it."

As John thrust into you, you cried out in pleasure, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You gripped the edge of the sink, bracing yourself as he began to thrust deeper into your soaking pussy. You both didn't care about being quiet anymore.

John groaned in pleasure as he felt your tight walls clench around him, your body welcoming him home. He thrust deeper into you, each movement causing a wave of pleasure to ripple through him.

"Fuck, you're so tight," his voice strained with desire. "I love this view."

John grabbed a fistful of your hair, tightening his grip, pulling your head back further until you were forced to look at yourself in the mirror. He thrust into you harder, his balls slapping against your clit with each powerful stroke. "Look at us," he panted. "Fucking beautiful."

Your eyes locked onto Johns in the mirror, he groans at the sight of your wicked smile, your eyes filled with lust and mischief. He increased his pace, thrusting into you harder. "You're such a dirty girl," his voice thick with desire. "I love it."

You moaned loudly as John picked up the pace, his cock driving in and out of your soaked pussy. You gripped the edge of the sink tighter, bracing yourself for the intense pleasure coursing through your body. "God I fucking love you John"

John grunted in response, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his climax. He reached around, pinching your nipple between his fingers. "And I love you, sweetheart," he gasped, his voice hoarse. "So fucking much."

John groaned in pleasure as he felt your tight walls clench around him, signalling your impending orgasm. He quickened his pace, driving himself deeper into you with every thrust. "That's it, baby," he praised. "Come for me."

Your orgasm hit you like a train, your pussy clamping down on Johns cock as you screamed in pleasure. You gripped the sink tightly, your knuckles white as your entire body shook from the intensity of it all.

His own orgasm crashed over him moments later, his cock twitching inside you as he filled you. He let out a guttural groan, his grip on your hair tightening as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

As John came, you felt your pussy squeeze him tighter, milking him for everything he had. You collapsed against the counter, panting heavily as your body slowly came down from its high. You could feel Johns cum starting to leak out of your pussy, dripping down your inner thigh.

John groaned in satisfaction, his hips still gently rocking as he emptied himself into you. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to regain control.

"Fuck," he murmured, finally releasing his grip on your hips.

He pulled out of you slowly, his cock giving one final twitch at the sensation of leaving your warm depths. He watched as his cum started to drip down your thigh, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

You turned around, wrapping your arms around John's waist. You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow down as well. "That was... amazing" John nodded in agreement, his hands resting on your hips. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "It always is with you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "You're incredible."

He held you close for a moment longer before pulling away slightly. His hands moved to cup your cheeks, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "But now," he said, a playful glint in his eyes, "it's your turn to suck me off."

You grinned at John's words, you got on your knees and grabbed his cocks. A bang on the door made you stop and stare at the door with wide eyes. "You two better not be fucking in my bathroom!" Soap hiccupped.

"Fuck off sergeant" Price commanded.

You both heard Soap quickly walk away shouting towards Gaz and Ghost. "Mom and Dad are fucking in my bathroom" making you and John laugh but you had no intention of stopping as you wrapped your lips around the tip of John's cock.

John laughed at the sound of Soap's outraged voice, shaking his head in amusement. But the moment you took him into your mouth, he forgot about everything else. "Oh fuck," he groaned, his hands instinctively threading through your hair. "Just like that."

You hummed around Johns cock, sucking him deeper into your mouth until his cock hit the back of your throat and your nose was resting on his pubic bone. You gagged slightly but you kept your head there for a moment before pulling back to catch your breath and doing it again.

John groaned in pleasure as you took him deep into your mouth, the sensation of your tongue and lips working magic on his cock. Your gagging only spurred him on more, his hips bucking slightly as he fought to keep control.

You carried on taking him fully in your mouth, one hand moved to gently massage his balls. Your other hand rested on his hip as you worked him over. The taste of his precum mixed with the taste of his sweat filling your senses.

John's breath hitched as your hand found his sensitive balls, massaging them gently. His grip on your hair tightened, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Fuck," he groaned. "Baby, you're going to make me-" But his words were cut off by a loud groan as he finally lost control, his cock throbbing as he spilled himself into your waiting mouth.

You swallowed Johns cum eagerly, your throat muscles working hard to get every last drop. You pulled back once he stopped cumming, looking up at him with a sultry smile.

John panted heavily, his grip on your hair loosening as he came down from his orgasm. He stared down at you, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Jesus Christ," he murmured, running his fingers through your messy hair. "You're something else, sweetheart."

You giggled softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock before standing up. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. "Pretty sure that's why you married me"

John chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his heart pounding in his chest. "Well. That was one of the reason," he agreed, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"We better go back and join everyone before Soap breaks the door down" You laughed as you began cleaning yourself up.

You both walked outside to see Soap looking at you like he was grossed out, earning a laugh from everyone. Even Soap. "If you two have managed to conceive in my bathroom he better be named after me!" He stated with folded arms.

John rolled his eyes at Soap's comment, a chuckle escaping his lips. He slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as they joined the others. "If we have," he said, winking at Soap, "then I think it's only fair that you name him Soap Jr." The group erupted into laughter at his suggestion.

"We are not naming our child Soap Jr." You shoved Johns shoulder playfully. John laughed, catching your hand and kissing the back of it. "Fair enough," he conceded, a teasing glint in his eyes. "How about Soap III then?" More laughter ensued, the tension from earlier completely dissolved thanks to their antics.

"We're not naming our child after anyone nickname." You shook your head at him. John shrugged, smiling at you fondly. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said, winking at you before joining in the conversation once more.

1 month later

John had been stuck at work all day, forced to deal with the usual bullshit that seemed to plague him wherever he went. He couldn't wait to get home, knowing that you would be waiting for him. The thought alone brought a small smile to his lips.

You went about making some lunch for yourself, you decided to cook your favourited. Salmon and rice. But the moment the smell of the cooked salmon hit your nose you felt sick. "Strange.... I love salmon" You mumbled to yourself, "Not unless?" You checked your period tracker on your phone and saw that you still had 3 days until your period but something told you to take a test "I guess taking one test wouldn't hurt"

What was 5 minutes felt like 5 hours to you. Waiting. Worrying. Praying. When you finally picked up the test you had to check it again.

It was positive.

"Don't get your hopes up" You told yourself. "It could be fluke" You rushed around the bathroom to find 3 more pregnancy tests.

When the 3 tests came back positive you couldn't do anything but cry. Cry with happiness. Your prayers had finally been answered. "I've got to tell John" You didn't want to tell him over the phone so you rushed to get dressed. Once you were dressed you grabbed the pregnancy tests and your car keys before driving to the base.

You were surprised you didn't get pulled over with how fast you were driving.

Once at the base you ran to Johns office and pounded on the door but no answer so you ran to the mess hall but again, he wasn't there. You saw Ghost and asked him where he was.

"He's in the gym" He answered and before he could ask why you ran off to the gym to find John.

John was just finishing up his workout when he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see who it was and his breath caught in his throat when he saw you. "Sweetheart," he said, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" You ran and hugged John, you began crying.

John stiffened slightly at the sudden hug, but quickly relaxed and returned it, patting her back gently. "What is it?" he asked, worry clear in his voice. "Did something happen? Are you hurt?"

"I'm pregnant" You whispered in Johns ear.

John froze, his heart pounding in his chest. After a moment, he pulled away slightly to look at you, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Really?" he asked, disbelief mingling with joy in his voice.

"Are you sure?"

You reached into your bag and pulled out the 4 positive pregnancy tests. "You're going to be a daddy" You said through sobs.

John's eyes filled with tears as he took the tests from your hands, unable to believe what he was seeing. He wrapped you up in another tight hug, lifting you off the ground, his laughter echoing throughout the empty gym. "Oh, my God," he breathed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Oh, my God!" He set you down carefully, his hands trembling as he looked at your belly, already imagining their child inside you. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he buried his face in your neck, sobbing with relief and happiness.

"Thank you," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, baby. Thank you."

"We did it. We finally did it" You wiped your own tears away as you looked at John. This was the happiest moment of your life. "Yes, we did," John agreed, pulling you close again. He held you tightly, as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. "We did it," he repeated softly, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Our family is starting now." His voice broke on the last word, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of their accomplishment. They had struggled for so long, faced so many obstacles...and yet here they were, expecting a child together.

"I love you," he whispered, nuzzling into your neck.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz rushed into the gym to make sure everything was okay after you were running about to find John. "Is everything okay Cap?" Gaz asked. He was concerned, they all were. Especially when they saw you both crying in each others arms.

John nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Yeah, I'm fine, guys," he said, trying to calm down. "Just...overwhelmed, you know?" He chuckled weakly, looking over at you, who was still sobbing but smiling now too. "She's pregnant," he explained, beaming with pride. "We're gonna have a baby." The other three stared at them for a moment, then broke out into cheers and back slaps, laughing and teasing John about becoming a dad but congratulating you both.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty mwii #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price #captain johnathan price #captain price smut #john price smut #captain john price x reader #john price x you

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rumisgf · 3 days

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KIRSHIMA BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS

summary: kiri boyfriend hcs because he needs more love. also this has been in my drafts for too long but i finished it y’all, round of applause!

includes: fluff, female pronouns, black!reader cs duh, crack

✧ and the best boyfriend award goes to

✧ before y’all even started dating he was always so sweet to you, opening doors for you whether it was at the food place or a car

✧ he has absolutely no shame making sure whenever he’s around, you never have to lift a finger

✧ he helps you up the stairs, buys you food whenever you’re hungry, even ties your shoes for you

✧ i mean he’s your boyfriend, it’s manly!!

✧ speaking of, one of the most attractive things about him is how good he is with kids

✧ if you have nieces/nephews or baby sibling/cousins they definitely adore him and it’s so sweet

✧ and when you get far enough into your relationship, he’s eager to express that he does wanna have kids one day

✧ if you let him pull out his list of baby names he will be so happy

✧ i think eijirou is one of the men very comfortable in his masculinity compared to all the other men he’s around

✧ not to say they aren’t, but he definitely has no issue doing things deemed as “feminine” in the slightest

✧ besides, manliness to him is about not always having to prove you’re manly. you’re simply just manly.

✧ kiri will let you do his makeup all the time and he’ll post pictures on his story after

✧ and he’ll love if you do things deemed as “masculine” with no shame

✧ no matter how it sounds out loud, he’ll be like “my gf is so manly i love her”

✧ yes, you wanted to pop him the first time you heard him saying but it’s truly just how he talks he can’t help it😭😭

✧ (one time he called mina manly as a compliment and she smacked him dead in his face, though, so he doesn’t say it often)

“wow babe, you’re so manly!”

“thank you eij— wait.”

✧ even though he’s willing to do it in a heartbeat for you, kirishima has a hard time letting you buy him things

✧ it’s one traditional standard he can’t seem to shake and even then he just feels bad for some reason

✧ but weirdly, he still likes when you ask even if he’s just gonna say no😭

✧ it makes him feel bubbly that you still wanna spoil him too and maybe he’ll let you a few times

✧ one thing kirishima loves is helping you do your hair

✧ he already dyes his hair himself so i feel like he’ll be very knowledgeable about hair care

✧ and he’d do his own research for you

✧ mans learned how to part hair, he oils your scalp for you, even washes your hair for you, and he learned how to braid

✧ in return he loves when you help him dye his hair whenever his roots grow in too dark

✧ this man can barely go to sleep without cuddling you it’s starting to concern his friends a lil

✧ it’s the one thing he looks forward to at night and he always hold you so tight

✧ which is completely fine because i feel like he’d also have warm skin

✧ he’s definitely the type of boyfriend to refer to you as his lady

✧ he definitely has clips floating the internet of him calling you that during interviews at hero galas

“oh, tonight i’m here with my lady!

“i’m sure she’s somewhere, she’s still a little camera shy.”

✧ if you’re the quiet type, he absolutely has no problem speaking up for you or just talking when you’re too nervous

✧ kirishima loves picking you up, you could be with friends and he’ll randomly just hoist you up into his arms

✧ when he works out, he begs you to do things like spot him or sit on his back while he does push ups

✧ or lay under him while he does them so he can give you kisses

✧ although one habit he does have is hugging up all on you while he’s still sweaty after he comes back from the gym

✧ i think he’d love a partner who does sports, so if the school has any college teams he’ll try to convince you to join even if you never did sports in high school

✧ he also thinks it would be fun for you and he always wants you to have fun

✧ in general, he loves being able to make you smile

✧ if you’re every having a bad day, he’s the best at giving advice or just comforting you

✧ and not to mention, gives top tier hugs

✧ when you start crying about anything he literally drops everything and runs to you

✧ to the point where even your friends will text him whenever you do and he’ll be there in an instant

✧ eijirou absolutely loves giving you flowers

✧ he’ll seriously find any excuse to show up wherever you are with a bouquet in hand ready to give to you

✧ valentine’s days? flowers

✧ birthday? flowers.

✧ passed an exam? flowers.

✧ having a bad day? flowers.

✧ having a good day? flowers.

✧ just because he felt like it? flowers

“awww this is so sweet baby, but what’s the occasion?”

“don’t worry about it sweetheart, just post with ‘em so i can take pictures of your pretty self.”

✧ in conclusion, he’s the man of your dreams

@ rumisgf

#mha kirishima #kirshima eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #bnha kirishima #kirishima headcanons #kirishima hcs #kirishima x black reader #eijirou x reader #eijirou x black reader #mha x black female reader #mha x black reader #mha headcanons #my hero academia #bnha

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01zfan · 1 day

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#45 | o. sh

volleyball player!shotaro x student manager!reader | 5.4k words

anons who requested this. i am SO SORRY it took me so long to get to this. i had to channel my past in volleyball for this and find the motivation for it so i hope the quality and the length makes up for the wait!

contains: semi-public, hand stuff only, mentions of clothing being tight (???)

shotaro would’ve never thought he’d end up playing volleyball. as a child he liked watching basketball the most, and when he he was in middle school he played soccer. but one summer at a sleep-away camp he picked up a volleyball for the very first time. shotaro received so many compliments about how he was a natural that he decided to tryout for the team on a whim. he knew it was insane to go into tryouts for a sport he never played, that it was less than likely he would be selected for the team. but it turned out everyone was right, he did have a natural talent. it wasn’t long before shotaro was accepted, becoming the libero on the junior varsity team.

shotaro also didn’t think he’d stay with it. just like soccer he found himself hitting ruts that caused him to lose momentum. he had to learn a completely new sport, he had to learn how to go for passes with his hands and dig for balls by diving his body to the floor instead of using his legs. the frustration of moving his body differently manifested into him not caring for the sport. it wasn’t long before he was not giving his all at practice, only nodding his head or shrugging his shoulders when the coach would ask him what was happening.

he even considered quitting when the coach wouldn’t bench him at the games. he knew he couldn’t stop himself from doing his best during games, especially with his team counting on him. he reluctantly ended up doing the best he could, and as a result his team did the best they could too. by his sophomore year shotaro was on the varsity team, and by the time he graduated he was captain.

when shotaro came to college it was a completely different atmosphere. he was against people stronger and taller than him, and he was up against people who didn’t have anything but love and passion for the sport. after the first day of tryouts shotaro stayed behind long after everyone left, practicing the drills he messed up. he was in his own little world, sweat dripping from his brow as he wondered if volleyball was worth it anymore.

“the gym is closed.”

shotaro turned away from the net to follow the voice. he remembers your face, but the amount of names he heard that day made him forget. all shotaro knew was that you were the assistant student manager. he saw your duffle slung over your shoulder as you wiped sweat from your brow with the bottom of your shirt.

“you’ll only hurt yourself at this point. try sleeping on it, the drills will come to you naturally.” you turned around to walk out of the gym, and shotaro was getting ready to resume his drills. you turned around again, hand on the strap of your bag as you got his attention again. “you’re shotaro right?” you asked.

shotaro was shocked that you remembered his name. he was one face out of the crowd of athletes. he doesn’t even remember if he had the chance to formally introduce himself to anyone before they started explaining the process of tryouts.

“yeah.” shotaro said.

”cool.” shotaro saw you look down at your feet, his eyes caught on the brace that was bound to your ankle and the small scar down your knee. “you’re really good. i hope you make the team.” you said.

shotaro could only nod, giving you a simple wave as you left the gym. he thought nothing about his performance was noteworthy, much less worthy of praise. but you seemed to mean it, and as you walked away shotaro took your words of advice seriously. he packed up shortly after you left, and he had a long nights rest to recuperate from all the exercise.

he found out you were right when the drills came to him like second nature the next day. he saw you watching him a few times, giving him nods of approval and a thumbs up each time he caught your eye. shotaro found himself looking to you each time he did a perfect serve, or was able to get a ball that seemed unsalvageable. he found himself overhearing the pointers you’d give to everyone else, even if they didn’t apply to him. each time you gave him advice shotaro listened intently, blaming the heat he felt across his face on the strenuous workouts.

at the end of the week when he made the team, you were the first person he looked for. in such a short time shotaro decided that you were his good luck charm and that he needed to let you know. he was quick asking for your number, hiding it under the guise of needing to have the student manager’s contact information. you gave it to him with a smile on your face, putting your name and number in his phone.

“i’m going to the dining hall after this.” you handed shotaro back his phone and he texted you so you could have his number too. “if you wanna come with.” you offered.

shotaro took you up on the offer a little too quickly. he sat with you and the rest of the team, sharing stories about volleyball before coming to college. shotaro saw you nod and smile, understanding all the nuances of what it was to be a volleyball player, but never sharing stories of your own. he knew not to ask about it, he had come to that conclusion after finding about your vast knowledge of the sport and seeing the scar on your knee.

you and shotaro had made fallen into your own post-practice routine. he would wait for you in the main gym while you finished your clerical duties at the end of the night, and you two would walk together to the dining hall. sometimes you would end up catching the rest of the team, but more often than not it would be just the two of you sitting in the booth of an emptying dining hall. you two talked about life back home, what you were planning to study, and everything in between.

the friendship blossomed quickly, but the dynamic changed the more you two spent time together. shotaro went from sitting across from you in the booth to sliding in next to you, so close that your shoulders touched. you two went from saying goodbye outside of the dining hall to shotaro walking you to your dormitory. eventually he was holding your duffle bag for you on the walk over, and one day he finally got the courage to reach for your hand.

by the middle of the season, you two were in a relationship. everyone on the team seemed to know before you guys did, some even bet on how long it would take before you two got together. you two kept your relationship out of practice. you didn’t hesitate to advise shotaro and you refused to hold back critiques relayed to you by the coach.

he respected you for your professionalism and passion for the sport, he truly did. he loved how you cared for the team and managed the responsibilities of the job while also easing everyone else’s stress. shotaro and his team never had to worry about the logistics of practice, they never had to worry about the little things if you were there. shotaro always found himself puffing out his chest proudly when his teammates would praise your hard work or mention that they never had a student manager like you. so shotaro didn’t know why he would feel a pang of jealousy seeing the girlfriends of his teammates in the stands wearing their jerseys.

he knew it was unfair to impose anything on you. shotaro was able to get your support constantly outside the context of games, so he didn’t know why he felt that way. sometimes all shotaro could think about during games or practice was seeing his player numbers across your chest. he thinks he would be unstoppable on the court if he saw it only once—he’d keep a picture of you in his mind like soldiers did of their wives back home before going to war. but he would never ask you to do anything that would show such blatant favoritism, even if he was your boyfriend and everyone knew it. he could also never bring himself to admit the primitive aspect of it all, that he would feel some sense of satisfaction seeing his number on your body. so because of that, shotaro simply kept it to himself.

he had planned to never tell you about it, but it was hard to avoid the conversation when it was staring at him right in the face.

it was another long practice, ending with you walking around the main gym looking for shotaro. you called out his name and texted his phone to see where he was. you knew that no one else was in the gym at this time, you had even seen the custodians leave for the night after cleaning the floors. you followed the sounds of the showers, standing outside as you called out your boyfriends name again.

“i’m in here.” he called back.

“i’ll wait outside!” you yelled, hoping your voice would carry over the sound of running water.

as soon as you were done speaking, you heard the water shut off.

“come in. it’s just me.” shotaro said.

instantly you shook your head, looking up to the camera that was pointing right at the entrance of the showers.

“i can’t. not allowed.” you said simply.

shotaro came from around the corner of the tile wall, only wearing a towel around his waist. he had another towel in his hands, running through the wet strands of his hair.

“if anyone asks, say you heard me slip and fall.” shotaro beckons to you, and your feet started moving on their own accord. “come in.” he smiled.

shotaro lead you through the winding tile walls of the showers until you made it to the main dressing room. you set your duffle down beside the bench, sitting on the polished wood as shotaro finished getting ready. you looked up in the large mirror embedded into the wall in front of you to stare at him. the pale blue tiles went all the way up to the white ceiling. you counted them up and down, each time leading you back to the reflection of shotaro’s body in the fogging glass.

he pretended to not notice your stare as he took his towel off to dry the rest of his body. when he looked in the mirrors reflection and saw you look away quickly, his laugh filled the room.

“it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” shotaro said.

you nodded your head sheepishly, still looking down at your feet. he wasn’t wrong, you had seen shotaro naked more times than you could count on your hands and feet. but it was different seeing him outside the privacy of your dorm rooms. you have never seen shotaro naked in a place that could easily be invaded. all it took was a straggler from practice or a custodian to catch you staring at your naked boyfriend. you only slightly settled down when you heard him pull up the pants to his tracksuit. when you looked back up to the mirror shotaro was putting on his shirt.

he came behind you, looking at you in the mirror with a smile on his face. shotaro bent down and kissed the crown of your head. you tilted you head to look at him directly.

“how was practice for you?” you asked.

shotaro shrugged his shoulders, moving his hand to massage your neck. he continued looking in the mirror to stare at you, and when he got to a stubborn knot you let your head lull forward.

“it was good. i’m a little nervous for the game tomorrow.” shotaro answered.

you hummed sympathetically, pulling shotaro’s hands away. you guided him around the bench to stand in front of you. you were sincere as you spoke, holding his hands tightly.

“you’ll do great, i know you will.” you encouraged.

shotaro nodded his head, feeling the anxiety of the important match melt off of his shoulders. he already felt like he was on top of the world just by looking down at you. shotaro watched the serious look on your face change to a bright smile as you squeezed his hands again.

“i do have a surprise for you.” you excitedly waved his hands around. “it just came in today and i can’t wait.” you said.

shotaro couldn’t control his own smile. he thought about what you could possibly give him as he cocked his head to the side.

“and what is that?” he asked.

you guided his hands again until he was standing next to the bench opposite of you. you both moved to straddle the bench, and shotaro watched you look to your duffle bag before looking to him.

“close your eyes.” when shotaro’s eyes stayed on your duffle bag you stopped messing with the zipper. “taro i’m serious!” you laughed.

shotaro hesitated for a moment, but let his eyes close. he let his imagination run wild, trying to think what surprise was waiting for him in your duffle. he thought maybe it was his favorite snack, maybe it was a lucky pair of socks or a handwritten note. when shotaro thought he heard the sound of your clothes jostling he had to compose himself. he tried to beat the dirty thoughts away with a stick as he held onto the edges of the bench. he heard you curse under your breath a moment later.

when everything was still in the room again, he stuck out a tongue to wet his lips.

“okay. open them.” you said hesitantly.

shotaro wasn’t expecting to actually be surprised when he opened his eyes. his wildest imagination would’ve never been able to pluck the view he was blessed with down from his mind to place it right in front of him. he let out a sigh from the other side of the bench as he took all of you in. he got the perfect view from where he was. he was able to see the 45 of his jersey stretch across your chest and how the tight fabric rode up to reveal your stomach. shotaro couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you pulled at the end of the sleeves in efforts to make it fit right.

“it’s a little snug.” your attempt to pull down the bottom of the shirt was futile. it rode back up immediately once you were done pinching the fabric. “i thought mens sizes were supposed to be bigger.” you said

shotaro still couldn’t take his eyes off of your chest as he shook his head. the primitive thoughts shotaro tried to keep at bay became barbaric as he watched the tight jersey material stick to you. when you crossed your arms to cover your chest shotaro’s hands went to your bicep, pushing them back to your sides.

“perfect fit.” shotaro spread his legs on either side of the bench further as he took his hands off your arms. “it’s a perfect fit. no reason to hide.” he said.

he watched you mesmerized as you continued to move in his jersey. your end of the bench felt like it was miles away the longer he looked at you on the other side. he reached out a hand to you, letting his palm drag across the polished wood as he pulled his hand back. shotaro was grateful you understood what he needed as you came forward, your hands gripping the edges of the bench. you brought your arms in to make your chest poke out more, trying to give him a show. his eyes ran over his numbers before he went to the shy smile on your face. shotaro mirrored your grin as he scooted forward closer to you. shotaro’s smile only got bigger as you two came closer and closer, by the time your face casted a shadow on his you could see his gleaming teeth. he only stopped smiling a moment before your lips touched his, biting them as he looked down to yours.

your kisses were light and soft, both of you tilting your heads to accommodate the other. one of shotaro’s hands came from behind him to go to your waist, and one of your hands let go of the bench to hold onto his face. you could feel the soft skin of shotaro’s cheek underneath your fingertips as you deepened the kiss. you held his head in place as you pushed your tongue past his lips. shotaro’s other hand went to your waist and he pulled you in closer, until you had to put your legs over his.

shotaro only brought you closer, and he moved towards you to cover the rest of the space. you could feel all of him press against you as one of his hands moved to your ass and the other moved to the small of your back. shotaro applied pressure, making your chest come closer to his as your hand that wasn’t on his face went to his shoulder. he was grabbing handfuls of you, kneading whatever part of your body he could get his hands on while your grip on his shoulder tightened. neither of you refused to pull away, only catching quick breaths in the seconds one of you would pull away to readjust.

when you moaned into shotaro’s mouth he remembered where he was. he was supposed to be like you, taking his role on the team very seriously. he remembered that he shouldn’t be making out with you in a place where you two could so easily get caught. so he pulled away from you reluctantly, and moved a gentle hand to your shoulder to keep you from leaning forward again. your plump lips called to him, but he remained steady as he caught his breath.

“we could get caught.” shotaro said.

you only nodded your head, eyes wide as you tried catching your breath. shotaro nodded too, trying hard to not let his eyes wander back to his numbers across your chest. he still had a handful of your ass, and he could feel you arch your back in efforts to give him more. your hands that were still on shotaro’s face pulled him in, and he only resisted for a second before going back in.

now it was you smiling against his lips, taking a deep breath in as you pulled on his bicep. shotaro’s hand went to your thigh as he lifted to get you completely on his lap. your hand on his face went to the nape of his neck before traveling up his scalp, reveling in the soft strands running through your fingers. when you pulled shotaro sighed, slipping his tongue further into your mouth.

you two were so caught up in the act of kissing that you forgot what always followed it. you were lost in how shotaro’s soft lips pressed into yours that you nearly gasped in his mouth feeling his dick pulse against you. he responded by only pulling you closer, and when your lips broke apart shotaro went to whatever part of your body he could reach. when you tilted your chin back he went to your jaw, traveling all the way down your neck until he got to what his jersey covered. shotaro pulled your hips down to his lap and he pushed into you when you pulled the hair at his scalp.

“you’re really hard right now.” you sighed.

“sorry.” shotaro said in between kisses. “you just look so perfect.”

“yeah?” you laughed, bringing your hands to shotaro’s face so he could look up at you. “i thought we could get caught?” you asked.

“i don’t remember saying that.” shotaro said.

you both let out quick chuckles and shotaro couldn’t stop thinking about how all of his restraint melted away feeling in your presence. it was a problem he was developing, even worse than his habit of not saying mine when going for a ball or cursing under his breath when a play wasn’t set up perfectly. he looked at the glint in your eyes and down to his number that was covered up by your two bodies pressing together.

there are worse problems to have.

shotaro travels his hand up your thigh, watching the anticipation build behind your eyes as you preen into him. he messes with the fabric at the end of the shorts before pressing into you. you break eye contact to tilt your head back but shotaro’s eyes stay on you, how your neck bobs as you get the little relief. he feels himself becoming impatient at the sight, and he pulls your waist down with his other hand so you can feel all of him.

he repeats the action, just pressing into you and bringing your hips down to meet his each time you raise them. he can feel his dick pulsing in his pants, and shotaro almost sticks his own hand underneath his waistband to relieve the aching. but he doesn’t want to miss a single second of you getting teased as your eyebrows furrow from the almost pleasure.

“shotaro.” you sigh, looking up to the ceiling.

your own hand starts drifting down, taking the time to press into shotaro’s chest and stomach before you reach the pants of his tracksuit. you look down to shotaro when the thick band of fabric stays in your way, and he looks up at you with his eyes gleaming. his hand stops pressing into your heat to go up to your waistband.

“mhm?” he hums.

neither of you say anything else as both of your hands move at the same time. you grab his dick and shotaro goes to your clit—not wasting any more time to tease. you both silently come to the conclusion you will have time for all the other stuff later, right now it was all about sated the desperation both of you felt until you were somewhere more private.

shotaro knew he’d have to take his time with you in his dorm when he rubbed the first circle around your clit. instantly you were curling into him, muffling your tiny whimper into his shirt. shotaro knew he would be better composed later in the day, that he would be able to tease you or coo at the sounds you made into the fabric of his shirt instead of biting his lip to keep his own sounds at bay. he couldn’t help himself when you squeezed your hand around his dick just right, and when you had his name and number written all over you.

the both of you were too reckless to start at a slow speed. when your hands went to eachother you both started fast, rushing through the motions as the last bit of your brains that were working told you that you had to be quick. so you quickly pumped shotaro’s dick until he was thrusting into your hand and he wasted no time teasing your clit until you were begging for his fingers. you both were messes for eachother in seconds, hands wedged between smushed bodies and shoved underneath clothes in shotaro’s team locker room. the novelty of it all would’ve made you both laugh if you weren’t so caught up in trying to feel everything.

shotaro felt the joking mood shift as you looked up to him. he could see the lights of the locker room reflect your glassy eyes, making it look like you had stars swimming in your irises. you were serious as you looked up to him, lips pouting as you spoke.

“you’re so good at volleyball.” you said, looking straight into shotaro.

his fingers on your clit faltered at the sudden praise, only finding their tempo again when you bucked your hips and let out a small desperate sound.

“what?” shotaro asked, trying to keep up with your hand that tightened around his dick.

“you’re so good at volleyball.” you repeated.

you repeated the words without faltering, tilting your head. you could see the confusion written on his face, flickering between that and how his lips parted when you squeezed a little tighter. you leaned back to rest on your hand that wasn’t on shotaro, giving both of you enough room to move your hands faster. the new angle let you pull down shotaro’s sweats enough to see the tip of his dick peaking out past your hand.

“i know i said you could do whatever you want.” you pumped his dick faster, feeling him pulse in your hand each time you went back down from his tip. “but i wanted to die when you told me you were thinking of quitting.”

shotaro quickly changed the angling of his hand in your pants, making his palm face the ceiling so he could finger you and stimulate your clit at the same time. you closed your eyes from the change and let a tiny fuck slip past your lips before opening them again. you clenched around his fingers when shotaro licked his lips.

“why?” he asked weakly.

“because you’re such a good leader, even if you aren’t captain yet” you started swiveling your hips into his hand, chasing that feeling building in the pit of your stomach. “they couldn’t do it without you.” you whined.

shotaro found himself chasing after something else, and a different feeling erupted across his body hearing your praise. he didn’t know what to do with himself hearing the rushed compliments fall from your lips as he watched you try and fuck yourself on his fingers. shotaro came to the embarrassing realization that he didn’t need you to touch him anymore, he could fall apart just from watching you and hearing you talk to him.

“they’re more than capable.” shotaro bent his fingers inside of you, eyes already focused on your chest to watch it jolt in the confines of his jersey as your whole body twitched. “feels good?” he asked.

shotaro watched you lull forward, eyes lazily focused on him as you nodded your head. he could see you actively trying to remember what you were saying, swallowing as you prepped your shaky voice.

“eunseok would’ve never been able to fix his jump serve if you didn’t help him.” shotaro tried putting in a third finger, but when he saw you wince he pulled back. “and sungchan kept touching that fucking net until you scolded him.” you said.

shotaro could tell you were getting close by the way your words were turning into babbles and your hand on his dick was becoming more and more rushed. he watched you screw your eyes shut and when you opened them he could see the tears in the corner of your eyes as you tried to focus on his. shotaro kept his eyes open wide, trying to remember the sight when he tries out for captain.

your walls closed around shotaro’s digits repeatedly, and he continued pumping his fingers in and out even if it felt like you were trying to suck him in.

“you think i’m a good volleyball player?” shotaro asked the question just to see you pitifully nod your head.

“you’re the best.” you arched your back, and the new angle helped shotaro go deeper inside of you. “you’re my favorite.” you whimpered.

shotaro’s eyes were wide as he took in every word. your voice dripped with sincerity as you rushed through sentences. shotaro used one of his hands to trace the curve of your body, ending at the bottom of his jersey. he pulled on the material, bringing the pinched fabric down your torso until it was completely straight. shotaro felt a newfound pride in himself that materialized in his chest, trickling down like molten lava to his stomach. immediately when he let go the tight fabric clung to you like a second skin, riding up the same way it did before. shotaro ran a quick hand through his hair as he felt the excitement prickling across his body.

“i’m gonna cum.” shotaro said.

his voice was beginning to waiver, floating between grunts and prolonged sighs. you nodded your head again, pushing up from your other hand to focus. you squeezed shotaro’s tip, using his precum as lubricant for your ministrations. he jerked his hips up quickly, bunching his pants at his mid thigh to free the rest of his dick. you moaned at the sight, using your legs that were still on shotaro’s to bring your body closer to his.

shotaro wrapped his hand around your back, giving you stability and enough space to work your hands the same way. when he saw you bring the end of his jersey down shotaro couldn’t hold out any longer. he pressed his fingers into your side and he closed his eyes as relief washed over his body. you kept working your hand when shotaro stilled underneath you, and he heard more mumbled praises fell from your lips as his his dick twitched in your hand. he left out one final curse, leaning forward until his head rested on your shoulder.

when shotaro opened his eyes he saw his cum glide down your hand and his abs. he saw some of it on your stomach, dribbling down your body to seep into the fabric of your sweatpants. you looked down too, looking back up to shotaro with a hunger that made him almost ready to go again.

before you could close the distance between your lips shotaro leaned forward, working still feeling the buzzing across his body as his lips ghosted over yours.

“i couldn’t have done it without you.” shotaro said it quietly, afraid that if he got any louder he would only moan. he took his fingers from your clenching heat to focus on your clit. “you’re my motivation to be in this stupid sport and the only reason i stayed.”

shotaro felt your legs shake over his and your hand moved from his dick to dig your nails into his stomach. shotaro flexed for you, hardening the muscle underneath his skin. he could feel the cum on your hand smear onto his stomach, warm and sticky as your grip on him changed.

“you close?” shotaro asked, readjusting his hand around your back.

“so close.” you whimpered. “just keep going.”

“okay baby.” shotaro’s hand across the small of your back pulled at you, making you lean forward into his chest. “moan into my shirt if you need to.” he whispered.

you nodded while pushing your hips forward trying to work with shotaro’s fingers. your entire body went tense, gripping shotaro’s shirt so hard the fabric wrinkled. your moans became whiny and you could feel shotaro nodding his head.

“i got you.” he whispered into your ear.

your full body shook around shotaro, and he continued to nod and keep the same speed. he could feel the same relief coming off you in waves, and shotaro let a finger run down your folds to gather your cum. he used that as extra lubrication on your clit, speeding up until you let out a shuddering breath. he didn’t stop until you started shaking your head against his chest and your hand on his abs clasped around his wrist. he still tried circling his hand, smiling as how you had to push yourself off his lap before you got overstimulated.

“baby.” shotaro breathed.

“mhm?” you hummed.

you still leaned into his chest, and shotaro watched your back raise and lower as you tried catching your breath. he saw the small trace of tear tracks underneath your hooded eyes.

“did you mean all the stuff you said?” he asked.

you put your hands to his face as you nodded your head. shotaro leaned into your palms, and the need to be touched by you took over his mind again.

“of course i did.” you bring shotaro forward to kiss his forehead. when you pulled back he saw the facetious smile on your face. “i would love to tell you more about it, actually.” you teased.

you and shotaro were tripping over eachother as you gathered your belongings. you readjusted your sweatpants and threw shotaro’s hoodie over his jersey. shotaro slung both of your duffles over his shoulder quickly. you moved in a haste, not looking back at the bench to see if you left a mess. shotaro didn’t turn around till he made it to the exit, peaking at you one last time with a joking smile on his face.

“just make sure the jersey stays on.” he laughed.

#requestz #01zfan: shotaro #riize smut #shotaro smut

146 notes · View notes

lisenberry · 1 day

Text

We drift in and out

Chapter 3: Did I find you, or you find me?

E/NSFW/MDNI

CW: Consensual Somno, Light Breeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst

6k (I know, I went nuts)

10k COMPLETE!

This whole fic started with one picture of a man with hairy arms holding a baby. Everything that came after was a fever dream.

Ch. 1 , Ch. 2, AO3

You had one last night together. Eighteen short hours before a black Land Rover would pick him up and take him away. Off to catch a plane to some forward operating base in a remote, foreign place.

He’d been home with you for four months, by far his longest leave yet. With each day, you’d gotten more comfortable, wondering if maybe he’d become permanent. That instead of just playing house, you were living something real. Building something special together.

That your plans could change, and you could let the fearful part of you rest. That doubtful voice that kept you always prepared. Always on. The survival mode that kept you moving forward but also stopped you from slowing down long enough to breathe. To enjoy.

It was a skill that benefited you in your work. The single-minded attention to detail and success. And when you’d learned you were pregnant, it had kept you from giving into the panic of the unknown. But once she was born, you didn’t have a choice, but to sit with it all. The joy, and the exhaustion. Slow, blissful days had become your routine.

Now you were facing the plan again. The one he wasn’t in. You’d survive, of course, but the bleakness of it cut like a wound. You should’ve known nothing so perfect could last forever. Maybe you did know, deep down. Maybe he did, too, and that’s why you kept each other just a bit out of reach.

But you still had a little more time. A few more memories to make before it came to an uncertain end.

You popped out to Marks & Sparks for supplies to make dinner. It had become a little holiday for you in the last few months. He’d stay home with the baby, and you’d put on real clothes and do your hair and escape for a few hours to squeeze the fruits and smell the cheeses. Go aisle by aisle and daydream about new recipes to try.

Not this time. This time you hurried through as fast as you could. Wasted not a minute as you snatched up everything on your list and rushed to get back to them.

They weren’t in your apartment when got home, so you crossed the hall and knocked on the door to his.

“It’s open!” His voice rang from inside, as you tried the knob and walked in.

He had the baby’s highchair in the kitchen, and the dining room table set with fine china and candles. Music crooned from some hidden speaker, something classical you’d never heard before.

“What’s all this?” You asked, as you set down the bags of groceries on his counter.

“I thought we could eat out tonight. Something different.” He stood with his hands at his hips, and a burp cloth strung over his shoulder. A scheming smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. They didn’t crinkle at the edges the same way you’d gotten used to.

“You’re okay with me making a mess of your kitchen?” You teased. “You know I’ll use every pan and utensil at my disposal.”

Your place was lovely, but his side of the building had twice the space, and a balcony that overlooked Hyde Park. During the few times you visited, it had felt like stepping into a different world. Like a fancy hotel suite in a far-off country, in the way that it had visitors but never really felt lived in. Sanitized into a blank slate, adaptable to anyone who crossed the threshold in search of an escape from their mundane reality.

Or like a museum, it was a place that existed outside of time.

“You cook, I’ll clean up.” He leaned his hips back against the granite and opened his arms to it welcomingly.

It made sense that he’d want to spend his last night in his own home. His own bed.

“Suit yourself,” you plopped a smacking kiss on the baby’s downy head as she sat contentedly in her chair, chewing on a colorful toy.

When you turned your attention back to him, he waited patiently for his greeting. The longing with which he first looked at you and your daughter the day you’d come home was back again. It had seemed like the start of something then.

This time it felt like the end, as you pulled up on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Short and sweet. If you hooked your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck, like every corner of your soul was aching to do, you’d never let go.

The food would rot on the counter and the hard things would never get done.

So, you settled back down and unpacked the bags in front of you.

“Will you pick the wine? I’m making your favorite.”

In lifetimes past, you would’ve dressed up and gone to The Midland in King’s Cross for dinner. Fed each other oysters and champagne. Danced until the early hours of the morning and crashed wildly into bed. Shared a cigar afterwards, naked but for the shelter of each other’s arms.

This time, you made roast beef with fingerling potatoes, minty peas, and glazed carrots. Topped with gravy and with a side of Yorkshire pudding to sop it all up.

It’d be some time before the baby could join in on the feast, but she flailed with enthusiasm at the smells and the excitement with which the two of you ate. Oblivious to how much her lukewarm cereal and the bottle that she could now almost hold on her own paled in comparison.

In place of a West End show, there were airplane spoons and milky sneezes to keep you laughing. Something to focus on besides the future. Besides each other.

The chasm that was too deep and too far to cross, let alone name.

As if on cue, with the last sip of wine, she started to fuss. Fisted her eyes and arched her back in surrender as John rose to soothe her. You’d have many more nights to put her to bed, but who knew what awaited him. You gave him the time alone as you collected the place settings and started the cleaning that he’d promised you.

The little one sighed so heavily against his chest as she curled into him, burying her fingers in his shirt. You knew the feeling, ached for it as you silently cursed your ability to dirty so many dishes making a meal.

He was gone long enough for you to handwash the china and fill the dishwasher, and you wondered if she fought sleep, or if he simply lingered a little longer. Did he tell her a story, or share some secret that was just between them?

The polished wood floorboards creaked under his weight when he finally returned to the kitchen. There was a stiffness to his towering form, as if he was flexing under an invisible weight.

“Just in time. Everything’s already done,” you chided, gently, as you dried your hands on a towel.

“I set her up in the portable crib with the monitor. In the bedroom next to mine.”

“Her first sleepover.” You still couldn’t look at him. You hadn’t yet, had you? Not really. Not since he got the call earlier that day.

Since you’d told him he was never meant to be a part of your life. That you could live without him.

A lie that he’d surely seen through, but you needed to keep for yourself as you busied your hands and kept your back to him.

But he wouldn’t let you hide, as he stepped behind you and pulled you in.

“Don’t pull away. Please. Not yet.” He tucked his grizzled chin into the curve of your neck.

“I’m trying.” You let your head fall back against him, vaguely aware that the music was still playing. Something sad and slow as you swayed to the beat of it.

His hands rested on your hips as he spun you around to face him. If a kiss could fix everything, you gave it to him then. Did your best as you fisted his hair and pulled him down to you, while his palms roamed lower to cup your ass and lift you onto the counter.

Like meat and wine, you savored his lips and his tongue as he delved even deeper. Splitting you open and demanding more. Demanding everything.

Your shirt was over your head and his roughened fingers scratched along the skin of your back, massaging and kneading the sides of your spine while he unhooked your bra. The same muscles you’d kept rigid all day he coaxed into pliancy with each stroke as a weak moan slipped past your lips.

“That’s a girl. Be soft and sweet for me, will you?” He started off slow at the tip of your ear, trailing light, tickling kisses down the shell and to where the lobe met your neck.

It sent shivers down your arms, and your naked breasts budded to peaks as they grazed against the cool smoothness of his shirt. You didn’t want cool, or smooth, just heat and texture as you pulled it off his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his hips.

He groaned at the contact, a fierce and hungry sound as he took one of your hands and slotted it between you. Pressed your palm against the bulge in his pants and grinded against it, letting you feel the way it grew and hardened at your touch.

“Tell me you’ll miss me. Fucking lie to me, just say it,” he grated out, against your collarbone. Miss him? Lie to him? It would be a lie to say you wouldn’t. “I need to hear you to say it.”

“I miss you already,” you whined, as you slid your hands from his groin to his ass and anchored him closer to the dampening heat at your core.

“I’m right here.”

“Then take me to bed. And show me how much you’ll miss me.” It was your turn to grind against him, rubbing the bud of your arousal greedily along the lip of his fly through your thin linen pants as your tits bobbed wantonly against his furry chest.

“Not going to last long if you keep doing that, love,” he growled, lifting you up again and carrying you down the hallway. “I’d rather take my time.”

And he did, starting with his fingers, then his mouth. Drawing out each sensation like he was mapping the stars. Exploring the far reaches of your body and forging new paths until you were shaking and spent.

You marked him in return. Staked a claim on the meat of his pec with a dark red love bite as he came hard and hot inside your pulsating quim. Filled you up with a contented smile on his face, as if there was no better feeling in the world. No place he’d rather be.

“Be back before it fades, okay?” You nuzzled the hair around the spot with your nose as you drifted off beside him, his fingers lazily circling your hole to push the leaky drops of his seed back in.

Did he have hopes that it would take?

Did you?

Later, a strangled sound, like a wounded animal woke you from a fitful sleep. At some point, you must’ve turned to your side and faced away from him because he was behind you. Pulling at your hips and burying his head between your shoulder blades.

“John? What is it?”

“Just a dream. A bad dream.”

You felt the swell of his cock as he sought out the smooth shelter between your thighs. Arching against him instinctively, you curved onto your back and parted your legs as he absently rutted around to find your opening. Still brimming with the sticky spend from your last bout.

He’d always been a giver, but this one was just for him as he worked out his nightmare on your flesh, your insides, your soul. It felt like a battle. A whole damn war as he smothered you with his heavy, dead-weight body and took ground, pounding away at your sensitive, stimulated cunt.

You wondered if he was even awake, or if he was still in the dream, as he fucked into you roughly and muttered far away words. Bit back his own tears as they mixed with the sweat on your skin.

“Mine...Fucking mine...Not letting you go...Not to anyone else...”

Deprived of oxygen from his bulk on your chest, you almost blacked out with the force of your climax, caught by surprise at the way the mound of hair at his base aroused your clit into bloom with each thrust. A tenderness amidst the brutal onslaught. A divine mercy.

If you had air, you’d have screamed at the intensity of it. Spotty flashes of light broke the darkness as you felt the last of your spurting aftershocks flutter around him, soaking you both and easing the incinerating friction from the stretch of him.

You could only clench your teeth and your walls as he shuddered with the strength of his own fresh release. With his face buried in your shoulder, you knew he didn’t smile this time. The sorrow of it hit you like a blow to your heart as you felt him stiffen with awareness, the fog of sleep clearing from his consciousness.

“I’m yours. There’s no one else, John,” you panted, begged, as he eased up onto to his elbows to give you enough space to take a breath. “Only you.”

********

Before you knew it, the black Land Rover was waiting like a harbinger along the street below.

“Here’s the keys to the truck, and to my place. Just in case.” He tossed a set into the bowl you kept on the sideboard. “I know how much you’re dying to go spying in my cupboards.” He raised a amused eyebrow to match the gentle hitch in his mustache.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Except you totally would. At the first opportunity.

“Afraid of what you’ll find?”

“An expired box of Earl Grey in the kitchen, perfectly sorted socks in the bedroom. Stinky smelling beard oil in the bathroom.” You flashed a cheeky grin at the last, in an effort to keep the tone light.

If he could be strong, so could you. You wouldn’t be the one to break. No matter what you felt like on the inside. You’d save it for when he was gone.

“Beard oil? This is all natural.” As if you’d insulted his manhood, he smoothed his mustache down with two hands, in a way you’d seen him do a thousand times. He’d trained any willfulness from his facial hair with nothing but nose grease and perseverance. Molded by time and patience, like marble cliffs and silt-shined creek beds.

“But I was right about the socks though, wasn’t I?”

“And the tea.” He hitched his mouth into a smile and turned his focus to the gurgling baby perched on his hip, yapping and cooing like she was in on the conversation.

The way he looked at her gave you hope that he’d call it all off. He’d sit back down on the couch and turn on the football. Put his heavy feet up on your table and let his flight leave without him.

“I’m sure we can find some priceless antiques in there she can teeth on.” They would start coming in soon. Another change he’d miss.

“Look, you don’t have to wait.” He paused to clear the words he was looking for from his throat. “I understand if you—”

“I just got you, John,” you cut him off, saving him from the self-sacrificing speech, and looked down at her chubby fist wrapped in a white-knuckle grip around his finger. “You’re not getting rid of us yet.”

Don’t let go, sweetheart. Don’t let him go. You willed it into her with your own thoughts.

Your world had gotten so small since she was born. You’d gone from having a job that needed you, coworkers and clients with a network of responsibilities, down to having just one job.

One person who needed you.

But it would’ve been a lot smaller without him. How lonely would you have been without someone to share it all with? How much of him had seeped into your life, and your heart?

“Be nice to your mum,” he whispered against her soft head, as he kissed her cheek and passed her back to you quickly. Looking everywhere but at you. “You have Kate’s number? In case you need anything?”

You pulled him closer with your free hand to his waist, forcing him to see you. Eyes wide and blue, he looked scared. For the first time.

Anything more than a kiss to the forehead would have broken you both. You’d already said your goodbyes the night before, and again that morning. So, you simply tilted your head up to him, your own eyes kind and trusting, and felt his beard graze your skin one last time.

And then you watched him go.

********

By the third week, nothing in your apartment smelled like him anymore. Everything had been washed, and the windows had been left open too long to let in the cool fall breeze. Looking around, you realized that nothing in your home was his.

He’d come through your life with a force and left no trace behind, as if he was never even there. It wasn’t right. You wished with renewed clarity that you’d taken more pictures of him. That you’d recorded every moment.

Something to show your daughter, someday, if she ever questioned whether or not she was loved. Something you could show yourself, when your mind tricked you into believing it was just a dream.

It was the need to seek out that connection, that comfort, that had you unlocking the door to his flat and letting yourself inside. It was dark, and too quiet. Cold and cavernous, like he was the one who heated it and gave it light.

With the baby bouncing on your hip, you explored from room to room. Three bedrooms and four bathrooms. And still, you couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere there either.

His sheets had been washed since you’d spent the night. His bathroom scrubbed of any lingering soap by the cleaning company that came once a month to keep it free of dust and spiders while he was away.

Trapped in time until the next visitor passed through.

Your grief and frustration sprung anew as you moved into his office. Surely it would have something. The indent of his body in a leather seat, or the half-burnt end of a forgotten cigar.

But his chair was too firm to leave a crease, and his ashtray was clean.

There were no medals or honors hung along the walls, and the top of his desk was empty, except for one framed photo. It was exactly what you were looking for, but at the same time, something you never expected.

It was from four years before, when he’d talked you into running a marathon together for a charity for wounded veterans. You remembered the day clearly but never knew someone had taken a picture. It must’ve been at the end, because you were both dewy-faced and soaked in sweat, smiling like mad.

His arm was around your shoulder and yours was at his waist. You looked like a couple. Like you were in love. Was that how you always looked when you were together?

Was this what you’d been missing out on all this time?

Surely, there were others. You’d open a drawer and find photos of him with other people. His parents, his friends. Other women.

But as you pulled them apart one by one, you only found files of old bank statements and tax forms. Until you got to the bottom. A lone manila envelope, padded and thick.

With your name written in the wonky, hurried strokes of his hand.

Your own hands shook as you turned it over to find it sealed. He must’ve wanted you to see what was inside, or else it wouldn’t have your name on it.

Right?

It felt like paper, documents of some kind, but with something else to give it bulk. You shouldn’t have seen it, shouldn’t have gone digging through his stuff. But he’d known you were going to snoop. Had practically dared you to, didn’t he?

You tucked it back in where you’d found it. Whatever it was, he could give it to you when he came back. You’d promised him that you’d wait, and you would.

However long it took.

Just as you shut the drawer, your phone began to buzz in your pocket, jolting you guiltily as if you’d been caught. You took it out, expecting it to be just another spam call, but paused in immediate horror at the name across the screen.

(John’s) Kate

He’d saved the contact in your phone in case you needed to get in touch with him. You couldn’t think of a situation where you’d be justified in pulling his attention away from a job, but you could only think of one reason she’d be calling you.

“Hello,” you answered.

*******

Two hours later, your apartment was full. Well, there were only four guests gathered around your coffee table and perched with varying degrees of curiosity and tension along your couch and side chairs, but it felt overcrowded considering their size.

Three men that you’d never seen before, and then there was Kate. Somehow, she took up just as much space as they did. She carried herself with an air of authority that made your spine straighten reflexively.

“He didn’t tell us he had a family.” The clean cut one in the ball cap, who’d introduced himself as Kyle, spoke first as you poured him a cup of tea. “We all wanted to express our support in person.”

“There wasn’t much to tell until recently,” you smiled, slightly, trying to be a good hostess despite the circumstances.

“You’ve been his emergency contact for the last five years,” Kate added as she declined your offer of milk and sugar.

“I didn’t know that.” That was as long as you’d known each other. Did he really not have anyone else?

“He’s a very private man.” She did you the favor of talking about him as if he wasn’t gone. As if there was still hope.

“How did you know about it?” MacTavish, the stocky Scot with the close-cut mohawk intoned back to her, with a bristling hostility you couldn’t miss.

“I’m CIA. It’s my job to know everyone’s secrets.”

You thought maybe she was trying to make a joke, but her face was dead serious.

“We never would have let him—” He looked regretfully from you to your baby as the blond one with the black surgical mask cut him off with a supportive hand to his knee.

“Have any of you ever successfully talked him out of something once he’d put his mind to it?” You looked around at the faces of the men staring back at you. The people he spent all his time with when he wasn’t with you. “I’m sure that’s why he didn’t tell you. Afraid you’d treat him differently if he was a real person.”

Perhaps for the same reason he’d never told you how he felt. Afraid to make it something real. Something it would hurt to lose.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, please,” you continued, bracing for the worst.

“A massive fuck up from the beginning, is what it was—” Kyle interjected, heatedly, before he was interrupted by a pointed look from Kate.

“It’s mostly classified, of course. So, we can’t go into details. But John requested an indefinite leave of absence about four months ago. In the interim, his team was assigned to assist another task force in a sensitive operation.” She spoke evenly as if reciting a sequence of events before a committee.

And you listened, all the while searching for the bits she left unsaid. The parts that she hid behind her narrative.

Phrases like, ‘severe loss of life’, ‘pinned down in hostile territory’, and ‘unable to ascertain status’, were cold, calculated ways of saying something went horribly wrong.

You weren’t a naïve civilian who devoured sound bites at face value. You worked with government contracts all the time. American, British. They were all the same. ‘Cover your ass,’ was their collective motto.

When she finished, you had more questions than answers. But one thing stood out in your mind. He hadn’t been home for so long by accident. He’d chosen to stay. He’d given up his team, indefinitely, to be with you.

“So, if I understand correctly, it was a massive fuck up. You him called away, despite his clear wishes to be left alone, to save your ass and theirs.” You turned your attention from Kate over to the team. “And he got you out. And you left him behind?”

He’d quit for you. But he’d gone back for them.

“Not willingly.” The one in the mask, Lieutenant Riley, spoke up for the first time. His eerily dark eyes shot daggers at Kate, as if the fault was hers.

“He knew what he was doing. We needed to reassess the objective and regroup. And I’m available to discuss it at length with you another time, Lieutenant.”

“We know he’s alive.” MacTavish reassured you. “If he was dead, they’d be broadcasting his body and celebrating all over the dark web.”

Oh, what a relief. The visual turned up bile your throat.

“And if he’s been taken prisoner or something?”

“He’s an exceptionally valuable hostage. We’ll have a few weeks at least, while they interrogate him, before he’s ransomed.”

Tortured, she meant. The bile turned to acid, and you forced yourself not to be sick.

“So, what now?” You were in a daze. Kate’s firm, rational, voice grounded you and kept you present when all you wanted to do was breakdown. To scream and cry and pound your fists against their chests to get back out there and find him.

Her position demanded it, you imagined. Judging by the tension flowing between the team, they ached to do just that. It was as if they were held back by some invisible muzzle. Reined in by years of service. One strong woman was all that kept them from charging off to take matters into their own hands.

“We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have news,” Kate answered, softer than before. Perhaps aware that her words alone held little comfort. That they were as grim as hollow condolences. “But here, standard protocol. We had it stripped of anything sensitive. There’s only a few pictures and text messages left. It’s unlocked.”

She handed you his battered old phone. The screen was scratched up, and the case was cracked enough to be useless protection. You didn’t think they even supported this model anymore. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw it.

‘It’s busted to bloody hell, but still hanging on’, he’d said about it once with a proud laugh. You prayed that he was the same, wherever he was.

“Thank you. It was nice to meet you all,” you replied, politely, suddenly anxious to be alone. To fall apart in peace. “I wish it was under better circumstances. Maybe next time we can have a drink and a proper laugh. When he’s home.”

“We’ll get him back, Mrs. Price.” It was Kyle who pulled you into a hug, as if you were family. “I promise.”

It was the first time anyone had called you that, and you didn’t correct him. In the moment, it was a comfort. A universal truth that you longed to hear from someone else’s lips.

The others followed suit with their goodbyes, but their warmth and concern were a shallow replacement for the man you were missing. Kate settled for a stoic handshake before you closed the door on them all and set your back against it for support.

The phone in your hand was heavy as you pulled it up to see his text messages, looking for any possible clue or something to keep hope alive. There were a few off color jokes between him and his mates. Notes to you about what was for dinner, and silly photos he’d taken of the baby.

One single text exchange with Kate. As if he’d deleted them as soon as they came in. Or perhaps Kate had wiped them as part of her pruning. It was from four months prior.

I hope you know what you’re doing.

Never more certain in my life.

Were they talking about you? Of his choice to leave? It reminded you of something else he’d left behind. Something you’d forgotten in the whirlwind of the last few hours.

When you held the envelope again in your hands, you didn’t think twice about ripping through the seal. Inside was a stack of handwritten letters, all dated and signed with his name.

You focused on the one on top, from the day before he’d left.

Hey love,

If you’re reading this, then something must’ve happened to me. Or your curious nature got the best of you, and you went snooping around my desk.

I hope it’s the latter because it’s time you knew, and who knows when I’ll get the courage to tell you myself. But if it’s the former, then I’m sorry.

I can’t say I’m surprised, though. There’s only so many times I can dare death to find me before it wins. You just have to know that I did my best, for whatever it’s worth.

I never felt like I could have a family. I didn’t deserve that sort of peace after the things I’ve done. I’ve taken too many lives to have any chance at a happy one. Killed too many sons to be entitled to any of my own.

It’s been my purpose. What I’m good at. And I never wanted to bring that burden home to anyone else.

Then I saw you again after I made myself a promise to stay away from you this time. You were so fearless and calm. I just wanted to be near you. Close enough that you might scare away the darkness in me.

If someone like you, and her, could trust me and see any good in me, then maybe I’m not such a monster after all.

You made me believe in fate. In something bigger that was beyond my control. I just hope that it’s not done with me yet. That it’s not done with us.

If this is the end, then I just want to say thank you and leave you with everything. Everything that I have, and everything that I left unsaid.

These letters are from all the other times I’ve done this. The other missions that called me away since we met, in the event that I didn’t come back. You were the only thing worth coming home to, and I’m sorry I didn’t share them sooner.

If you’re just being nosy, and I’m already warm in our bed with the baby drooling on my chest, I hope I’ve already told you a thousand times how much I love you. How lucky I am to have known your love in return.

And I hope you’re already wearing one of these rings. I couldn’t decide which one, so I’ll let you choose. They’ve been in my family for ages. All yours now.

All my heart, John.

The pages were flooded with salty tears by the time the jingle at the bottom of the envelope caught your attention. Five different rings. Yellow and white gold, glistening diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires. Old and new.

But not yet. You didn’t dare to touch them yet. Didn’t choose. You believed in fate, too. He wasn’t gone, and it wasn’t the end.

*******

The next days passed by in a blur, waiting by the phone. You were thankful for the baby, as she didn’t let you wallow or crumble the way you wanted to. There were still diapers to change, and bottles to fill. Smiles to fake and colic to soothe.

You wondered if she missed him, too. If she even noticed he was gone.

It was three in the morning when you got the call, and you shot up in bed, sleep quickly forgotten when you answered. You didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID.

“John!”

“Hiya, darling.” His voice was a faint groan of relief.

“Where are you?” You held the phone away from your face just long enough to see the long, foreign number with a country code you couldn’t place. “Does Kate know where you are?”

“I don’t have a lot of time. I’m in the blind. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You flung off your covers and rushed to your computer. He was in trouble.

“I’m here. Are you hurt?”

“Not bad.” You could hear him smiling, the way the words huffed out through pained lips. It was definitely bad.

You had to keep him talking, to stay on the line long enough for you to work. The laptop took forever to start up. You hadn’t used it since you’d left your employment, and it must’ve needed a hundred updates. But you didn’t have time as your fingers trembled anxiously over the keys.

This was what you did. This was your job. You designed software that could find people. Find targets. Needles in the giant haystack that was the world.

You set the phone to speaker mode and plugged it in to your program.

“Whose phone is this, John?” It would be encrypted, you presumed. You wouldn’t be lucky enough to have its location turned on.

“An old friend. I’d put him on, but he’s not with us anymore, I’m afraid. Poor fellow took a fall.” Another gurgled laugh. “But his name was Makarov. When you talk to Kate, tell her the mission’s complete.”

“You can tell her yourself. You’re going to be fine. Just keep talking to me.”

You buzzed through lines of code, searching for the one you needed.

“How’s the poppet? Is she being a good girl?”

“She’s sleeping. She’s okay. Misses you. Can’t wait to see you.”

Got it! You broke through the encryption and pinned his location using satellite GPS.

“It’s not looking good, love.”

“Do you believe in fate, John?” You asked, as you used your laptop’s connection to call Kate.

There was a reason you’d met each other. You were certain now that nothing had been by chance. You were meant to find him. You were meant to find each other.

“Ah, went pawing through my drawers, did you? Which ring did you pick?”

“I’ll show you when you get home,” you promised as the line finally connected. “Kate! I know where John is. You have to hurry.”

You sent her the coordinates to the exact centimeter. He was deep underground, in some kind of a bunker. Or an old mineshaft. To her credit, Kate didn’t argue or ask where you got your intel.

Two hours later, you were still on the phone with him. The light began to creep slowly through the curtains, bringing with it a brand new day. But his breath had slowed, and his words came thicker from his throat.

“Just a little longer, okay?” You didn’t let him sense your fear as you quietly willed your life into him, to keep him hanging on.

Where the fuck were they?

The line had gone too quiet when you heard the blast.

“John! John, what was that?” You prayed it was the team, and not a fresh wave of enemy combatants come to finish the job.

“In here!” John’s voice, with a renewed strength.

“Bravo-7 to Watcher. Eyes on Bravo-6. We’ve got him.” You heard Lieutenant Riley’s unmistakable accent breakthrough as he got closer to the phone. “Have med-evac waiting topside. He’s in rough shape.” He switched from his comms to John. “Can you walk, Cap?”

“Well, you aren’t fucking carrying me, Ghost. That’s for bloody sure.”

“Please don’t leave me.” The tears that you finally let fall were of release. Of relief. You didn’t know if he still held the phone, or if it lay forgotten on the ground as they carried him away.

“Careful what you wish for, darling.”

#call of duty #john price #captain price #price x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #task force 141

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selfloverrrrrr · 2 days

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Spoilers warning:

Can i request yandere sukuna in megumi’s body where he noncon reader? And megumi lowkey likes it lol and you can include your own ending where sukuna got exorcised and megumi getting back his own body, turns out y/n got preggo now megumi’s forcing reader get married with him?

Thank youu

I'll accept you...

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference, Yandere, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Masterlist

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

I'm a student of jujutsu high Tokyo. I'm a first year.... in grade four. Gojo satoru is the one who took the responsibility to make me understand my cursed energy and how to use it. Cause I can't use it properly. We're best friends... Me, Yuji, Megumi and Nobara.

Gojo Satoru just got sealed. Every sorcerer went to shibhuiya to get Gojo back. Everyone was Panicking all the time.

They were collecting the wounded sorcerers in a room. They were searching for them all over Shibuya City. I was in the room alone. Waiting for someone to come. It was too long time no one came. But I didn't have any other choice. I have to wait for them.

Being tired I kinda fall asleep on the bed of that room. Suddenly hard a chuckle of a male voice. My eyes wide open. I looked at the door saw itadori standing there. "M-Megumi?" I asked.

" Tsk.... guess again" he said walking towards me. Then I saw tattoos on his face. " Sukuna" I gasped. " Ahhh.... Now better" he replied. I got up from the bed. I was so confused and shocked. Sukuna??? In Megumi's body???? How? "They leave you alone here?... Pathetic!" Sukuna laughed. "H-how are you in Megumi's body???" I asked. "I switched with his body....you don't need explanation brat" he said and stepped closer and I stepped backwards.

I could feel the situation isn't okey right now....I was about to run but he immediately came infront of me. He was too fast. "Where do you think you are going,huh?" he asked and grabbed my hair and dragged me towards the bed. I groaned in pain. He threw me on his bed and locked the door. Took off his shirt and threw it on the floor then started crawling towards me on the bed."please stop" I said and tried to push myself backwards but he grabbed my leg and pulled me towards him. I gasped. He was still smirking."stop?... Where's the fun then? The fun part is about to began ~" he whispered and crashed his lips on mine.

I tried to push him away but his grip was too strong. I can't even move myself. He was kissing me too roughly. I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the hem of my top and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes. He didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensetion. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even effect on him. "S-stop ...... Oh god please stopppp" I scremed but he didn't stop.

Then he took off my pant and then took off my pantie."spread those legs wider, slut " he whispered and then looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " filthy whore is fucking wet". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pant.

His dick sprang out. It was big and thick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " P-please no... s-stop" I begged but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I scremed. " You whores will never learn how to behave " He said and slapped me. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. I was throughig my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he was licking it so much. His thurst became harder and harder. "M-Megumi ..... Oh f-fuck.... Megumi please stop him!!!" I cried out. " Megumi is watching these right now.... and do you wanna know what's he doing??.... He's stroking himself right now" Sukuna whispered and laughed evilly. I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly "fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thurst I came. He was still thursting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength. I moaned. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed. " Stop struggling slut...!!!" He screamed. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. My vision blurred out.

It's been months now from that night. He used me every day like a toy for him. Today morning was something good. A great day. I heard a good news that Sukuna got exorcist. The people of jujutsu high took me to the jujutsu high's room again.

Someone knocked on the door. "W-who?" I asked. "It's... it's me... M-Megumi" the voice replied from the door way. "C-come in" I replied. Megumi opened the door and came in. He sit beside me. "Y/n..... look... Look we both know what happened" he said. I hide my face because tears coming from my eyes. "Y/n look I wanna say something... I could never confess to you because I thought you won't say yes to me but I'm saying it now... And I heard you're pregnant.... And we both know that it's my child... Can I be the proper father if you want....? I love you y/n I love you so fucking much.... I want to take care of you.... And I talked with Gojo too... He said he's gonna help us too if you agreed to be mine... please...? Can I be yours?" Megumi asked holding my hand. Tears still falling. "Yes" I sobbed with a smile. I felt happy. Megumi smiled back and kissed me. I kissed him back..... maybe this is the new way to start our life...

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

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glorious-spoon · 3 days

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17 and/or 28?

hello nonnie! i went with 28: surprising them with their favorite treat. love is stored in the kitchen, etc.

"No, no, I'm not doing it for you," Abuela says, swatting his arm lightly with her dishtowel in that way that makes Eddie feel like he's taken a step backward through time, back to the sunny little kitchen in the house she sold three years ago to move back to Texas, back to being eight years old again and hanging around while she baked, even though he was supposed to be too old for all that by then. She's frailer now, but her eyes are just as sharp as she folds Eddie's fingers back around the egg he's trying to hand to her. "You're never going to learn if I do it for you."

"We're going to run out of eggs before I get it right at this point," he complains. They've gone through three already, the yolks broken and bleeding into the whites and therefore useless.

"You can use them to make a frittata. Or an omelet. Something. They won't go to waste."

He squints at her. "Was that a metaphor?"

"Come on, come on. Josephina is picking me up in an hour, if you want this cake to happen it's got to happen now."

"I could just buy one," Eddie says halfheartedly, like this whole enterprise wasn't his idea in the first place. God knows why. He's managed to drag himself a good few steps above boxed mac and cheese in the cooking department, but baking remains an intimidating mystery. It's not like he couldn't just buy one. It's Los Angeles. Plenty of places local to find tres leches cake, even if it won't be his abuela's recipe.

She probably would have made him one herself if he asked. Almost definitely would have. But once he got the idea in his head it felt—important, like Buck's laborious perfecting of the lasagna he's planning to make for them tomorrow, like Bobby's home-cooked meals at the station. Something about doing it himself.

Something about home-cooked meals, and about love, that it's definitely too early to say to Buck, at least in so many words. But he kind of wants to say it all the same.

He cracks the egg—gently, this time. The glistening yellow yolk remains intact, cradled in one half of the shell as the white slides away into the bowl beneath. Eddie holds his breath, holding his hand still until the separation is complete, feeling more than a little bit like he's defusing a bomb here. Then he finally drops the yolk into its own separate bowl with a feeling of absurd triumph.

Abuela squeezes him with a startling amount of strength for a woman who's more than a few years past eighty, but her voice is very gentle. "Perfect, Eddito. Now we just need four more like that."

Eddie breathes out a shaky laugh and reaches for another egg.

By six o'clock, Pepa is on her way over and the cake is cooling in the refrigerator, waiting for the leches mixture—the counter wiped clean, Abuela installed in a dining room chair sipping a cafecito from one of the little red cups that she bequeathed to Eddie when she moved away. They talk about inconsequential things: Christopher, his dad's retirement, his parents' tentative plans for a cruise, which makes Eddie wince and bite his tongue. Christopher again. Buck's name comes up, because of course it does, it always has. For years he's been so entwined with their lives that there's no way to talk about Eddie and Christopher for any length of time without mentioning Buck.

It feels more revealing now. Or maybe that's just that now Eddie knows there's something to reveal.

He's not trying to hide it. It's new, but he's never felt so sure about something in his life. He just doesn't know quite how to go about saying it; any of the words he can come up with feel too clumsy, too inadequate.

It's not until Pepa's car pulls in the driveway that she leans over to pat his hand where it's resting on the table. "He's going to love it. Tu novio, he'll be so happy you baked that just for him."

"That's assuming I don't mess anything else up," Eddie says, and then registers the rest of that sentence. Your boyfriend. His heart stutters for a moment, but settles fast. She's still smiling at him.

"You won't," she says.

He breathes out; laughs a little, breathless. "How did you know?"

"I'm old and wise," she says puckishly. Then, gentler, "You talk about him like you're in love."

Outside, the car door opens and shuts. Pepa starts up the walk. Eddie takes another breath, and nods. He feels a little flayed open, but it's a good feeling, to be seen like this. A little raw, but good. "I am. I—really am."

Abuela slides out of her chair and holds out her arms; Eddie folds into them like he's not a head taller than her these days. They're still standing like that, swaying a little, when Pepa comes in.

Buck is over the next night for dinner, a frequent if irregular occurrence whenever they both have the same evening off. They don't actually cook together, because Buck is kind of a control freak in the kitchen, but Eddie sets the table with Chris's sullen adolescent assistance, and puts on some music, and he remembers as he does it those evenings when he'd see his grandparents dancing together in the kitchen after dinner, the easy sway of their bodies. He's half-tempted to try and pull Buck into a dance, but right now Buck is frazzled and wearing an apron splattered with béchamel as he swears under his breath at the lasagna, so Eddie can wait.

It all comes out perfectly, because of course it does, and Eddie kisses him after he sets it down on the table, ignoring Chris's disgruntled noise. Buck smiles against his lips and kisses him back.

"Smells amazing," Eddie offers.

"It only took me five tries to get it right."

"Well, I appreciate you not burning my kitchen down."

"You're not funny," Buck pouts, but he leans in for another kiss.

"I'm starving," Chris says pointedly, and they break apart, laughing.

"You forget how to serve yourself, mijo?"

"No," Chris says, but he's smirking a little as he dishes himself a generous helping of lasagna and passes the spatula over to Eddie.

It's not that different, all told, from any of the other meals they've had together over the years. That's something that keeps tripping Eddie up: how little has actually changed. Other than the part where he's allowed to touch Buck as much as he wants now; other than the fact that he lets himself notice how much he wants.

For Chris's sake, he's discreet about it, but he curls his hand over Buck's knee under the table once they're all served. Buck ducks his head and smiles, a pretty flush dusting his cheeks, and Eddie leaves his hand there for the rest of the meal.

They clean up together, and Buck insists on helping even when Eddie tries to shoo him out of the kitchen, though he honestly doesn't try that hard. Chris escapes into the dining room when Buck pulls Eddie into a shuffling, impromptu dance to some Taylor Swift song on the radio—he must have stealthily changed the station when Eddie wasn't paying attention—but he ducks his head back in a few minutes later to ask if they're going to eat the cake.

"There's cake?" Buck asks, bemused.

"Tres leches," Eddie admits, and now he's blushing. "Abuela's recipe."

"You got Isabel to make me tres leches?" Buck asks, looking delighted.

"Okay, okay, it's not just for you—"

"Dad made it," interjects Chris, the traitor. "Can we please eat it now?"

Now Buck's expression has gone all soft, so sparkling and warm that Eddie can barely look directly at it. "You made me a cake?"

"You cooked dinner," Eddie counters, crossing over to open the fridge and pull the covered pan out. The whipped cream isn't in those graceful swirls that his abuela always did, but he's pretty sure it'll taste okay. It all looks okay, anyway. "Don't worry, I had supervision. It's probably edible."

"It looks amazing," Buck says, but he's not looking at the cake; he's looking at Eddie. Eddie tries to duck his head, and Buck catches his chin before he can manage it, and kisses him. It lingers sweetly for a moment, and then he grins and pulls away. "You made me a cake."

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie says, and thinks, I love you, I love you.

He doesn't say it out loud, not yet. But by the way Buck is beaming at him, Eddie thinks maybe he got it all the same.

#911 #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #isabel diaz #christopher diaz #prompt fic #my fic

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artist-issues · 3 days

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every now and then I play with the exercise of "what if we're wrong" because sometimes I get bored and also as an actual exercise. I usually apply this to Christianity/religion, matters of the after life, or about other people.

So sometimes I poke at the big question, if Christianity isn't real, what does that mean? And I don't usually go the route of atheism or bad sci fi, just that the religion is proven to be fundamentally inaccurate to reality, so what does that mean?

Anyway it wasn't until I was reading a really good sci fi story, where this one dude explains to some aliens the concept of "Love your enemies, do good to those that hurt you" and of course the aliens are like what? (Because in the sci fi narrative the universe is functioning under a Dark Forest Theory) And the dude explains its from one of earth's greatest teachers. And the aliens are like, if the inhabitants of the universe could believe that, this universe would be a different place entirely.

And it was at that point where I realized bro... even if it's not accurate, practicing Christianity is still worth it, for a human being. Loving your enemies means loving them like humans. The Poor, the Meek, and those who mourn, those are promises and comforts that we shouldn't toss aside even if heaven isn't real.

I don't know, this is just a terribly simplistic because I'm not the best at putting my English thoughts into english out loud, but that crack gave me a touch of useful coping. I asked my dad, if aliens are proven to exist it doesn't automatically mean christians stop practicing and believing, right? And he said obviously not.

I don't know but have you ever engaged in such a question " what if we're wrong?" And if you ever have what answer had you arrived at?

EDIT: As @atwas-meme-ing correctly pointed out in the comments section of this post, who cares whether or not I’ve played this game: God answered the question through Paul in his letter to the Corinthians: “If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.” 1 Corinthians 5:19.

There’s no “good moral teaching” to be found in Christianity if Christ wasn’t God, or if God didn’t exist, or if eternity weren’t real. My rambling logic is below the cut.

I mean, I play that “game” all the time about other things, and sometimes I do it for work. I’ll take two established characters and a setting me and my friends have agreed on, and I’ll “run a scenario.”

But the thing is, once my brain picks out something that doesn’t make sense, or that wouldn’t be in-character for the characters to do, the whole scenario grinds to a halt and I have to start over. I can’t suspend my own disbelief once I notice that something doesn’t line up. Even if I really liked “where the scene was going” before I noticed that thing. Whatever I’m getting stuck on because of it’s out-of-character nature unravels the parts I like, too.

All that to say I can’t even run a scenario in my head where “what if all this isn’t true? What if it fundamentally doesn’t line up with reality?”

I can’t. Once or twice I have tried. But I hit snags immediately. I’ll go, “pretend all of this Christian religion really is just a centuries-old conspiracy humanity’s been patching up the holes in.”

But then that little simulation-checker in my brain goes, “then how do you explain people dying for it? That many martyrs aren’t likely to have allowed themselves to be tortured and murdered for something they knew was a conspiracy.”

And I go, “well, pretend they died because they didn’t know it was a conspiracy, they believed it.”

And the sim-checker goes, “but the original disciples of Jesus, ground-zero of the faith, were all martyred. Not just people who learned from them and came after them and could’ve been hoodwinked: the starting points, themselves. They would’ve had to know it was a conspiracy, if it was a conspiracy, and they still willingly died for it.”

Maybe I’ll pivot and go, “pretend there isn’t objective truth.”

And the sim-checker goes, “there isn’t truth…objectively?”

Maybe I’ll pivot again and try, “pretend that everyone really does just measure morality based on what they’re used to, what their individual society’s trained them to associate with pleasant feelings and reactions.”

And the sim-checker goes, “Okay, where did those societies get the training manual? Where did it come from? Why do so many different societies’ and people groups’ ‘association with pleasant feelings and reactions’ around the world have so many things in common?”

And the answers to all that leads me back to Christianity. Even if I go the longest way round I can think of.

And eventually I quit running those scenarios. Because guess what?

Where’d the ability to run scenarios come from?

How did I get that? How did you?

See, the thing is, we go, “what if all of this isn’t true?” But it’s right there in the question. “Where did you get that desire? The desire for “truth?”” Is it to keep yourself safe, like the natural animals have an instinct toward, or is it to keep yourself sane, because you need some sense in this life to make it through? Sure. Maybe. But why? What’s “sane?” What’s “safe?” Sanity presupposes order. Why do you, and all humans, naturally lean toward wanting things to be “the way they’re supposed to be?” Where’d that come from, that idea of “supposed to be?” And Safety presupposes good being found in avoiding pain and damage and fear. “Good?” Where’d you get that idea?”

The further you dig, even into your own psyche, the less you can run any scenario that has God absent entirely. And no wonder. He designed it.

One more thing.

“I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.” - C.S. Lewis

I used to lean into the idea you’re saying here. “Even if it’s not true, I’m going to live like it is and believe it just in case. Besides, it makes me better, and makes the world better.” That’s not belief at all. That’s ends-justify-the-means thinking. The teachings that Jesus gave which “make the world a better place” are utterly worthless if they’re coming out of the mouth of a liar. Because why should anyone believe Him? Why should anyone “turn the other cheek,” or “do unto others?” Because it makes us “better?” Who gets to define “better?”

The answer, of course, is Jesus does. The One who taught those sayings. But only if He’s God. Only if He was telling the truth. If He wasn’t God, what right has He, to tell us to give away our possessions to others and let them abuse us and give our lives up? If He was a liar, all of those “good teachings” would be tainted and untrustworthy. Besides, like I just said, they’re all only able to be called “good” teachings if you accept that there is one objective, universal “good.” And we’re right back to “where did Good come from?”

All roads lead back there, to Him. But we humans like to do this thing with God where we pretend there could be any reality outside of Him. It sort of makes sense, how we got that way. After all, when was the last time you noticed oxygen? How often during the day do you consciously inhale and exhale? As often as it happens automatically? How often during the day do you notice oxygen touching your skin or moving your hair or drying your eyeballs? As often as those things happen automatically? No. But it’s ever-present. Without it, you couldn’t live, let alone notice anything. But oxygen has always been around and everything in our lives interacts with or can only exist WITH it. God is much more than that, but that’s as close as I can get to communicating: He’s so good, and He’s so constantly there, everything, all the time, that it’s easy for us to take Him for granted, forget Him entirely, then use our two-pound brain matter to say, “He might not exist.” You might as well say, “imagine a world with no matter.” 🙄 “Ohhhh kay. Then it wouldn’t be a world.”

#This was fun to talk about though #because even when you’re trying to pick apart truth for “fun” you just get…a closer look at how true truth is.#analysis #christianity #apologetics #theology #faith #Jesus Christ #Bible #c.s. Lewis

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themalhambird · 1 day

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There were times when Ankh-Morpork as a whole possessed a conveniently short memory. Inside of a week “that thing with the dragon” was already being forgotten, partly because nobody wanted to admit they’d thought crowning a bloody great lizard was a a good idea and partly because no one wanted to remind the Patrician that they’d been complicit in locking him inside his own dungeon. The palace was repaired; any damage to the city was propped up or painted over. Nevertheless, there were clearly going to be some lasting effects. It was early in the morning, and Sybil Ramkin was leaning over the Patrician’s shoulder, examining one of the said consequences with a somewhat critical eye. “It’s not bad, Havelock,” she said. “A little more practice, perhaps.”

Lord Vetinari hummed his agreement. His fingers did not stop switching lace bobbins from one position to another, moving pins down the board and leaving a slightly lopsided web in his wake. “I find it…relaxing,” he said. “A challenge, to be sure, but easier to wrangle than the city.”

“To be sure,” Sybil repeated with a wry smile. “Lacemaking is only a craft that takes most people years to learn properly. You’ve read one book and away you go. Honestly Havelock. You’re insufferable.”

Vetinari smirked. Sybil stepped away from his shoulder and strode gracefully to the far end of the long table, sitting opposite her old friend and helping herself to breakfast. “So,” she said, “Captain Vimes.”

She waited. Vetinari said nothing. His bobbins clacked. Sybil popped a grape into her mouth. “”I’m not going to sit here playing mindgames with you, Havelock. I’m not one of your little lace bobbins- I’m your friend.”

“”Captain Vimes” is not a statement that seems to require a response, my dear.” Vetinari set down the bobbins and sat back in his chair, tapping one slender finger on the wooden armrest. Sybil smiled.

“Fair enough. Let me rephrase. What do you think of Captain Vimes?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I like him.” Sybil said frankly. “I like him a great deal.”

“Why?”

Sybil gave a half shrug. “He’s passionate. Blunt, but the honesty is charming. He’s brave- heroic-”

“-an alcoholic. Hardly a paragon of the law. Oh, he may not take bribes, but the Night Watch as a whole doesn’t have much of a purpose beyond running away at the first sign of danger.”

“Now that’s unkind- they were fighting Wonse and the dragon whilst you were sitting in a prison cell. Look, Havelock,” Sybil sighed. “I like him. I really rather like him. So I would like to know what you think of him.”

“...I think,” Vetinari said slowly, “that given half a chance Samuel Vimes would lock me up and throw away the key. I think that Samuel Vimes has a great deal in common with his famous ancestor and I think, Sybil, that if you like him, there wouldn’t be any harm in continuing the acquaintance.” His mouth curls in a sly smile. “Besides,” he said, “Think of how it would annoy Ronnie Rust- Lady Ramkin, consorting with the plebs.” “Well,” Sybil said. She picked up another grape. Vetinari picked up his bobbins. There would be City Business to attend to, soon enough, but the Patrician could spare another ten or fifteen minutes on Ankh-Morpork’s richest daughter who had, after all, been through so terrible an ordeal lately. And, considering Wonse's betrayal- though it had hardly been unexpected- Havelock wanted to spend a little longer in company with his old friend. Besides. It was gratifying to know that he wasn't the only person to see the merit buried deep within Captain Vimes, and Vetinari wanted to spend a little time ruminating on all the doors that Vimes forming a connexion with Lady Ramkin might start to open up...

#discworld #guards! guards! end scene #my first discworld fanfic???? discworld is hard #anyway Sybil and Havelock deserve to have breakfast together so.#Havelock Vetinari #Sybil Ramkin

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brucewaynehater101 · 23 hours

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Okay okay, so Tim finds out Bruce is stuck in the timestream and gathers all his siblings + Barbara for a meeting, presenting his evidence, a drafted plan of action to save Bruce . . .

. . . And asks what to do with this information

They all come to an agreement / majority vote

l e t h i m d i e

=========

Once upon a time they thought that Gotham, the world, that they, all needed Batman

Now that isn't the case anymore

Oh he was mourned, by the Justice League, by his allies, by civilians . . .

But the Batfamily has grown into their own, they've found a way to fight for Gotham, Bludhaven, Crime Alley because they've inherited the Fear of Batman

They've found their own ways to instill the fear of them into the criminal world

Their territories are becoming better even despite their Patriarch being dead

And they feel less dead than they were becoming under his thumb

The Dark Knight is Dead; Long Live The Dark Knights

· · ·

People questioned what would happen with the Prince of Gotham dead

Tim tried becoming CEO, but Jason stepped in himself to take the mantle from right under him, citing he was too young and should enjoy his childhood while it still lasted

That started quite a fight between them

Duke Thomas was adopted by Jason and while not technically joining the family's nightlife, Signal could always be found while the sun was up

Gotham's bones broke, organs failed, and flesh was bitten off

Gotham has never been better since Batman or even The Second Robin died

Praise the Batfamily

This is happiness . . .

=========

Somebody finds out they let Batman die

Be it the Justice League, other heroes, their rogues, or another hero's rogues, or somebody else entirely

They find out

Do other groups learn by themselves? Does this knowledge come into the hands of people who would spread it?

Either way, the Batclan is going to have to confront that it's known they let Batman die

Is the knowledge it used maliciously, is the accuser wanting answers, or is it a mix of both

Gosh, what will Alfred think if he learns? I imagine that even if he enabled Bruce's abuse they kept him around, stick close enemies and friends after all

(me thinks personally that Joker is throwing a fit with his nemesis dead, and he may not even be able to abuse the fact his own kids killed him cuz it was a child abuser who was killed by his abused)

(but I'd love to see your take on Joker's pov when he only knows Batman is dead and if he learns his kids left him for dead and if he learns they were abused by him and that's why they let him die)

Now I'm wondering what would happen if it got leaked to the public that the Batfamily knew Batman could've been saved but did nothing about it. There could be so many different reactions from different groups

Crime Alley people, criminals, people outside Gotham, Gothamites themselves, and Bludhaven residents would have different takes collectively methinks

Fucking hell, that isn't even accounting for all the fuckery you could do w/ Bruce Wayne = Batman and I'm not talking about an post-mortem identity reveal, I'm talking identity shenanigans

Like say the bats knowing they could have saved Bruce but left him for dead and somebody/some group learns this and leaks it

And then Jason steps in to say "you know the FUCK what? We knew our old man could have been saved and since he was shit we voted/agreed to let him die!!" And all hell breaks loose

And that's just one example!

=========

Inspired by that ask on Jason calling for a family meeting after learning Bruce is stuck in the timestream to figure out what to do from there

+ the one post where Dick tries and fails to get Tim to give up on Bruce so he doesn't embark on BruceQuest and Bruce dies in the Timestream

w/ Cassandra in particular, it'd be fun to explore her psyche in the Vote branch, if she votes to let Bruce die or not considering her "No Kill" stance

Heck, with both branches they alone bring so much fun to the table, even without the flavor of The Reveal

Agreement: You get the explore a world where all the bat kids + Barbara want Bruce dead, by why is it? You get to see all their reasons for it, and how their reasonings may mesh or clash and how they come to make their decisions!

Majority Vote: You get to see the conflicts between those who want him back and want him dead + what they do and think knowing who voted for what then onwards

Bonus if a batsibling or two start of wanting Bruce back but then decide they want him gone, or the reverse, or they flip flop again and again until they make their choice

Either branch I think would overhaul the Batfamily's relationships w/ each other in a major way and not just because someone has to take Bruce's spot as the family head or whatever, but because they chose/voted for said Patriarch to die

That's a big fucking deal

Oh yeah, Duke; is he ever taught about the (technically not) Patricide committed? Or do they keep him ignorant because ignorance is bliss?

Because if he learns through means other than them, yeah it'll be a shit show the Bats won't be prepared for beforehand

Oh yeah what about Gordon? Do you think he'd be in the know or learn via leaks or a leaker cuz he's kind of Barbara's family

Hello!!!!!!!!!!

Tw: abuse, death, murder, child abuse, suicide (let me know if I need to add more)

I love this idea, and I'm totally up for breaking it down.

If it's not an agreement, then it's likely that the ones who disagree will try to save Bruce regardless of what everyone else wants

This will turn into an all-out war as those who want Bruce dead try to prevent the others from succeeding. It would be like a weird version of capture the flag, clue, and escape the room. The save-Bruce team (whether out of love or duty) would need to gather all the evidence that Tim did while fending off attacks and working against the clock (there comes a point in time that it's too late to save Bruce).

Even if they all agree, it's still complicated feelings wise.

Bruce is an abusive piece of shit (especially in this AU), but it's hard to not love your abuser. The cycle of abuse is difficult to break out of. I think Dick and Jason would be at the point they are more apathetic to Bruce's care/love. They are adults who don't rely on him. They might still love Bruce, but it's easier for them to put a defense against the man emotionally to the point of condoning his murder.

Babs and Steph aren't his kids, so, while their feelings aren't black and white, it's easier to distance themselves from Bruce.

Canonically, I think Tim recently got adopted by Bruce. This makes it harder for him to outright reject Bruce. When given evidence (and shown what Bruce did to his other family members), Tim might come to the conclusion that it's better off without Bruce.

Damian is a child who just got to meet his dad. I doubt he'd be on board with this plan nor, with his hero worship, would he be able to find faults in him. He simply hasn't spent enough time with Bruce (and lots of angst to be explored there. Basically, his "siblings" that he's just met are telling him it's better for him if their dad is dead).

Cass loves Bruce. She trusts his mission, what he's supposed to stand for, and that he does love his kids (she can see that he truly does love everyone). At the same time, he hurts her siblings. She doesn't agree with leaving Bruce to die, but her feelings are complicated on the matter.

How the batkids feel about Alfred is similar (although not categorically per a kid) as they feel about Bruce

If they've reached the point where they have acknowledged that Alfred will never be on their side nor protect them, they still love that old man. They want him to be around, they would be sad at his death, but they know Alfred could and has hurt them. They know Alfred would choose Bruce over them.

The JL find out Bruce isn't actually dead with the Black Lantern battle thing.

Theoretically, other heroes can then start trying to save Bruce. Without canon Tim's information, though, they might not be able to. Bonus points to this batfam au if Oracle and others actively sabotage their efforts.

Gordon would be presented with all the evidence that Batman was an abusive piece of shit.

The Commissioner would try to bury any feelings of grief out of guilt for what he's unknowingly allowed his ex friend to get away with. If he knew that Batman was the same boy he threw a jacket over at the scene of that kid's parents' murder, he would sit at his desk with a bottle of scotch and a lit cigarette trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Jim would blame himself, curse Batman, and, as he curses himself for always allowing, do not a damn thing against what the masked vigilantes tell him to do.

Crime Alley and Bludhaven respectively probably would either not give a fuck, say "good riddance," or whistle at the fact the Bat's own kids refused to save him.

Gothamites know their vigilantes. If the batkids had refused to help Batman, than they trust the kids. There's nothing out there that would turn a man's entire family against him besides the man himself. By the end of the week, all Batman related stuff is burnt and replaced by the many symbols of the birds.

Anyone outside of Gotham (besides Bludhaven) will criticize the batkids. Gotham becomes fiercely protective over their birds after that and will fist fight anyone who tries to talk shit about them or their decision.

Fuck Joker, but here's how I think he felt about it.

Man definitely lost his shit in a fit of giggles. It seems (though Joker is slightly disappointed he wasn't part of the final showdown) that Batman was dragged down to the level of madness he swore he'd never go to. If Batman's kids turned against him, oh that must mean that the furry freak truly did horrendous actions against them!

That clown spends several weeks coming up with twisted fantasies and theories to ask out of the Birds to tease out their reactions for when he next sees them. He wants to know exactly how the Dark Knight fell and what was so dastardly to turn children against their father.

After he solves that mystery? Dealer's choice. He doesn't quite get as much joy without Batman around. He can play around with Red Hood and Red Robin specifically (if JJ happened), but nobody is the Dark Knight.

Maybe his melancholy turns into rage where he starts seriously gunning for all the Birds for not returning Batman to him. That, or Joker kills himself cause his nemesis/obsession is gone. Both are likely responses.

Anyways, I also love the positive notes you had that I didn't address. The hopefulness of them doing better for Gotham and Jason adopting Duke is fantastic. I'd love more of that as well as everything else

#dc comics #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#bruce wayne #bruce wayne bashing #dc au

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mermaidgirl30 · 2 days

Text

✨Slip Into Me: Part 1 Saved Before Dusk✨

QZ! Joel x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Kofi

A/N: This just stumbled upon me when I was driving home from work this week, so I wrote this in about a day. I’m still not sure how I feel about the first chapter, but I hope you guys enjoy! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for giving this a read for me! (I cannot keep up with tags, so be sure to go follow my notifications blog if you want to be notified when I post @mermaidgirl30-updates)

Chapter Summary: You run into trouble with one of the FEDRA soldiers, but a broad, handsome stranger comes along and intervenes.

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapter Tags: QZ! Joel, outbreak au, FEDRA soldier tries to attack reader, Joel steps in and saves reader, soft Joel, a bit of pining and a little flirting, eventual smut in next chapter, no use y/n

Word Count: 6.1k

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The Boston QZ is grimy, filthy, overrun with FEDRA soldiers who stalk and parade up and down the city of turmoil. Their tanks fill the streets night and day, ordering people around as if they were their own personal slaves. The buildings are rundown, furniture tattered and torn, bodies filing in and out day after day just trying to survive off the little ration cards they collect every week.

It’s not a place you wanted to stumble upon, not a home at all. But this was where you’d stay for now because your group was all gone, killed by feral raiders who murdered your friends in cold blood. You were the only one left, untouched in an infected world. You were lucky to make it out alive, but at what cost? You sure as hell didn’t want to stay here in this cage. But you guess it’s better than being attacked by infected or murdered in your sleep.

They offered you a little apartment, ration cards for a hard day’s work cleaning and organizing weapons for FEDRA. You don’t trust any of the soldiers, don’t dare look them in the eyes most days, only when you have to. Maybe one day you’ll make it out of here alive, but for now this place is giving you shelter, food, running water, electricity. It sure beats living on your own out in the woods somewhere where no one else can defend you. You’ve learned to be on your own, but that doesn’t mean you like it.

The air is warm as dusk draws near, the summer heat stifling even as you walk through the shade. Your shift is over, dinner gone and finished, so now it’s time to go back to your cold, lonely apartment. Maybe tonight you’ll actually get some decent sleep instead of waking up screaming from nightmares of distant times. You still see faces of loved ones you lost get murdered by infected and raiders, friends starve to death, companions freeze to death. You don’t know how you made it all this way, but you did. You had to stop holding on to the past, it wasn’t coming back for you.

You swipe your fingers against the cool bricks of falling apart buildings, making your way through the narrow alleyway that’ll lead to your apartment building. Just as you pass a stairwell on the side of the brick building, a dark shadow makes its way toward you.

You freeze, stopping dead in your tracks, fingertips still tracing the rough bricks. There’s a tall FEDRA man walking toward you. Navy blue pants, combat boots, a camouflage vest strapped tight to his chest. He looks menacing. Piercing blue eyes narrowing your way, coarse blonde locks that look like pure ice, a large scar running down the side of his dirty neck, and fists locked tight at his sides.

“Hey, girl. What do you think you’re doing out here all alone? Up to no good I suppose?” he asks as he stalks toward you like a hungry tiger, eyes locked with yours as a smirk meets his chapped lips.

You back up to the brick wall, feeling like you could sink like jello into the dusty cracks of the brown faded bricks. You have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. You’re trapped like a helpless little mouse. “No, I’m just trying to get back to my apartment.”

“Sun’s about to go down, shouldn’t be out so late in the day close to curfew. You’re up to no good, aren’t ya? Trying to sneak around and steal some ration cards?”

“No, I…”

“Don’t lie!” He bites back, jaw seething as he pulls your wrist and clamps down on your skin. It feels like wires setting your nerves on fire, like he’s ripping through your delicate bones.

“Please, I’m only trying to get back. Let me go,” you beg, using all your might to get out of his tight grip.

“I don’t think so, love. Thieves get searched, and I’m gonna search you till I find what I’m looking for,” he snarks.

Before you can fight your way out of this mess, he spins you around and pins you to the wall, slamming your face into the sharp bricks as you cry out in pain. He crowds your body, digging his fingers into your hips as his other hand shoves your face against the searing surface. You can’t break free, can’t fight your way out of this. He’s too strong, too overpowering. You’re completely helpless.

“Please, stop,” you whine, feeling a warm tear slip down your cheek.

“No, I don’t think so, doll. Think I’ll stay right here between your…”

Before he can finish his sentence, you hear a deep gruff voice growl behind you. “Get the fuck off her, Seth.” You feel the soldier’s weight being dragged off you, hear the sounds of a body being thrown into the side of the opposite wall.

You spin around and freeze, watching a stranger punch the soldier’s face with bruised knuckles. The soldier spits blood from his mouth, but the other man grabs the edge of his navy collar and pins his back against the brick wall.

“Think you’re a tough guy, Seth? Think it’s alright to put your filthy hands on her? I’m sure she didn’t ask you to, so mind your fuckin’ manners and keep your goddamn paws off her,” he growls, spitting up into the soldier’s wide eyes.

You don’t know what to do, what to think. All your brain can do is eye the back of the man who saved you. He’s tall, so very broad, wide shoulders, tousled dark curls that probably feel like silk. His green flannel is rolled up to his elbows, exposing cascading veins that drape down his tanned skin, ending in massive calloused hands. His dark jeans are faded, worn brown boots covering his feet. He looks like your knight in shining armor, your saving grace. Why he saved you, you don’t know. But you want to find out, now.

The soldier laughs in his face, but he only grips his collar tighter as he sends another punch to his swollen eye. When he spits more blood, he turns back to your savior and laughs casually like he didn’t just get beaten up. “Fancy meeting you here, Miller. Say, you ever find those cigarettes and drugs we sent you out for?”

He clenches his jaw, releasing his collar so he can push the soldier again against the wall. “Ain’t got nothin’ for you, Seth. You want some, you can give me more ration cards,” he hisses.

The soldier laughs, shaking his head back and forth. “Five,” he wagers.

“Ten,” the broad man demands with narrowed eyes.

He raises his hands in defeat and sighs. “Fine, ten it is. Just hurry up with my order, will ya?”

The other man slaps his face, hard. You can practically hear the split of a rubber band snapping against skin. The soldier cowers over, holding the side of his mouth in pain as he stands back up slowly. “Tell me to hurry up one more time, and I’ll break your jaw,” he seethes. “I’ll do it when I’m good and ready, Seth. You’ll be the very last.”

He narrows his cold blue eyes, pointing a finger accusingly at the man who saved you. “Better watch it, Miller.”

“You threatening me? I shouldn’t be the one that’s careful, you be careful. Wait till Tess hears about this,” he growls with furrowed eyebrows.

Seth backs up all wide-eyed and bruised, like he’s afraid of the name Tess. Before he can get anywhere, the broad bodied man nods his head to him. “Get out of here, and don’t mess with this girl again. Got it?” he growls with the bite of his scowling jaw.

Seth looks over at you and nods before he runs off in the opposite direction, clutching his vest like it’s the only thing keeping him at bay.

He huffs out a deep breath and turns to you, furrowed eyebrows turning into a contemplative, concerned expression. Your eyes go wide, taking in the front of his face for the first time. He’s absolutely gorgeous. Dark brown eyes that look like pools of honey hone your vision, sweaty, tanned skin glistening in the fading light of day. His dark beard is threaded with silver, a strong jaw set with plush lips that half open when he looks at you. He’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, and he’s so fucking broad. You decide then that his eyes could kill, they could devastate anyone in their wake by how beautiful they are. Warm chocolate eyes flecked with wisps of honey brown. Absolutely breathtaking.

“You alright there?” he asks with concern lathered in his voice, careful with his large steps as he walks up to you.

“Oh, I’m… yeah, I’m fine,” you breathe out, suddenly forgetful on how to take deep breaths. Your heart is racing wildly, you swear it’s about to fly out of your chest.

He reaches out, but stops himself. Instead, he just points out the left side of your face. “Your face. You’re hurt,” he says with a scowl, clenching his hand into a tight fist at his side like he’s furious at the soldier for hurting you.

Your hand shoots up to the side of your face, and that’s when you feel it. The blood, the aching feeling of having your face bashed into the hard bricks. “Ahh, fuck,” you whine, hissing when you try to brush your fingertips over the swelling area.

“Here, c’mon. Follow me. I’ll get ya taken care of. I’ve got supplies back at my place. Can fix ya up in no time,” he offers as he nods his head for you to follow. You stay put, weighing your options. You don’t know this man, but he saved you, so he must be safe.

He takes a few steps forward and turns back around when he doesn’t see you following. “You comin’?” he asks with hope in his brown eyes.

You take a moment to breathe and then nod, agreeing to go with him. “Yeah, lead the way.”

You follow after him, letting him lead you away from the narrow, dark alleyway. When you get on the sidewalk of the main street you notice he walks on the outside of you, like he’s shielding you from any other soldiers who might give you a hard time. You don’t know why he does it, but you owe him a huge debt now.

You cross your arms over your teal t-shirt, looking up at the tall man who saved your life while he leads you to building two where he must live. You’re about to speak, but he beats you to it. “You know, you shouldn’t be out alone when the sun’s about to go down. A bunch of no good soldiers swarmin’ the streets here. What were you even doin’ out?” he asks, turning to a stairwell where he leads you up to the second floor.

“I was just heading back to my apartment. I got a late start with work today, had some things to finish up.”

He hums, looking back at you with furrowed brows. “Next time walk back with someone. Seth ain’t the only lowlife soldier. Gotta be more careful,” he tsks as he takes out a golden key in the pocket of his denim jeans.

You sigh, feeling as if he’s somehow blaming you for not knowing the safety rules around here. “Look, I’m new here. I didn’t know any better. I was just trying to get back to my place. I didn’t… I didn’t…”

“Whoa, hey. S’alright. Nobody said you did anythin’ wrong. I’m jus’ sayin’ watch yourself. Alright?” he asks with his hands raised, like he means no harm.

You drop your guard and sigh. “Sorry, just a little on edge,” you mutter.

“Don’t blame ya one bit. Now, c’mon. Take a seat at the table. I’ll get you a warm washcloth,” he instructs as he opens the rusted red door, the hinges squeaking while you make your way into his little apartment.

He shuts the door, and you take in your surroundings. The walls are covered with chipped white paint, the kitchen tiny, a little solid wooden table surrounded by two brown dining room chairs. The living room is open, a sunken leather couch with a broken coffee table sitting in the middle of an old, threaded blue rug. White satin stain coated curtains cover the glass window, and light shines dimly throughout the small apartment. It’s worn down, but it’s cozy enough.

You make your way over to one of the chairs, slowly pulling it back as to not make it drag across the hardwood floor. When you get comfy in the back of the chair, you watch Joel disappear into the other room, listening to the trickle of a running faucet while the bathroom light shines down the narrow hallway.

You fidget your fingers together, tapping your foot nervously on the dusty floor. You’re in his apartment, the man who just saved your life. And he’s tall, broad, and devastatingly handsome. His looks could surely kill a man with just the gaze of those dark flecked eyes. He had danger written all over those honey colored eyes. Eyes that could eat you alive.

He comes back down the hall a minute later, tan washcloth in hand, flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows, corded veins skating all the way down to his massive hands. You’re nervous just by those large, thick fingers grasping the washcloth. You wonder what they’d feel like on your skin. Maybe like burning fire, hot charcoal, extreme heat rushing off his rough fingertips. He might feel like wildfire.

He pulls up the kitchen chair across from you and grunts when he sits, like his whole body hurts from the weight of working in the summer heat of the QZ. “Look up for me,” he requests, sliding his chair a tad bit closer to yours, enough to brush his knees against yours.

You gasp when his fingertips meet your skin, his hand cupping your chin and turning your injured cheek to where he can reach you. You were right. His fingers do feel like wildfire, calluses gliding against your smooth skin as he gets a good hold on you. It’s almost enough to send you jolting from the chair.

“This might sting a bit. Jus’ hold still,” he says gently, a deep voice escaping behind plush lips. You wince a little when the warm material meets your wound, but you relax when he gives you that certain look that says be still.

You hiss a little at the contact of the warm cloth across the scrapes on the side of your face. He makes eye contact with you and asks with those deep brown eyes if you’re okay, stopping his movements for just a second before you nod and let him continue.

From here you can see how clear the dark flecks in his eyes shine, a faint red scar above his right eye, silver threaded coarse beard that looks almost soft to the touch, and pink lips that look so inviting. He watches you study him, his own eyes flicking back and forth from your injury to your eyes, silently assessing you with a wary stare.

You see it in his eyes, he’s curious about you, maybe interested, but he doesn’t give much away. You see pain behind those dark irises, a worn body just getting by in the QZ day after day. You don’t know him, but you can tell this much. He’s reserved, quiet, careful, a man that keeps his guard up. You’d like to see behind those walls, if only for a moment. See what all he’s really been through.

After a couple more seconds of silence he finally talks. “You new here? Haven’t seen you around these parts before.”

You nod, watching him trace the edges of the warm washcloth across your cheek. “Yeah. Just got here a couple weeks ago,” you murmur, clenching your jaw when he rubs against a really sore area of your cheek.

“What the hell brought you here?” He says it rough, like he can’t believe anyone would ever dare come here by their own will.

“Raiders attacked my group. I was the only one left alive, and I just sort of stumbled upon the QZ gates. One of the soldiers found me and offered me a place here.”

He hums, dark eyes assessing you slowly, sliding down your body briefly as something twists in your stomach at the sight of him really taking a good look at you. “M’sorry ‘bout your group, but I’m more sorry you ended up here in this hell hole. FEDRA runs this place, and none of ‘em are remotely friendly. Especially Seth.” He spits the name out like it’s poison on his tongue, and you see he can’t stand the man that attacked you.

You purse your lips and ask him the same. “And you? Why are you here?”

He drops the washcloth from your skin, clenching his jaw as he stares with a hardline drawn on his forehead, shaping wrinkles across tanned skin. “That’s a long story that I don’t feel like answerin’ right now.”

Before he brings the lukewarm washcloth back up you grab his wrist, preventing him from lifting his arm further. He stares at you, eyes partly narrowed, challenging you to ask him again. “At least tell me where you’re from. Your accent, are you from the south?”

He leans back in his chair and sighs, nodding his head slowly. “Came from Austin, Texas. And you?” He raises his thick eyebrows like you owe him the same gratitude of telling him where you’re from.

“California. Northern part,” you answer, listening to him hum once again until he brings the washcloth back to your temple.

“You’re a little far from home ain’t ya?” he asks quietly while he brushes the soft material over your face.

“Unfortunately,” you mumble under your breath. Another flick of those pools of honey your way and you see a hint of concern, maybe even sadness buried in those flecks of darkness. He seems to have so many layers to him. You want to unravel them, unfold every piece and dig into his past, his present, his mind. And maybe you’ll get there, one day. Maybe, just maybe…

You suddenly realize you don’t even know his name, how have you not asked him yet? You heard the soldier say Miller. Maybe that was his last name.

You pick at the fading denim of your jeans and raise your eyes to his hesitantly. “Your name. I didn’t catch it.”

Another brush to your raw skin, and his soft brown eyes meet yours. “Joel Miller. And your name is?” he asks with a piqued interest, raising his eyebrows slightly. You tell him your name and he says it back to you slowly, another flick of his dark eyes over your body. Like he’s memorizing you entirely. Your name, your shape, your essence. It makes the room sticky and hot at the sight of his eyes exploring you, even if it means nothing.

“Joel…” you repeat, slowly spilling the syllables off the tip of your tongue.

“That’s right…” He says your name again slowly, like honey dripping off his warm tongue, every murmur and gruff sound making you a bit dizzy.

“You’re gonna be alright. Might bruise up a bit, but nothing that’ll last long. Gonna be sore tonight, jus’ clean it good and keep it dry. Ain’t gonna scar over,” he says as he nods to your face.

He cups your chin again, turning you slightly to him as his calloused fingertips brush a strand of hair behind the slope of your ear, breathing down your neck as you finally smell him. He smells woodsy, summer sweat kissing the air, cheap whiskey filling your senses. Then he looks deep in your eyes, one hand falling slowly to the top of the table, fingertips curling over the scratched wood, his jaw flexing as his eyes travel down to your lips for just a second, a breath in time. And suddenly you’re frozen in place, waiting for something to happen, something that shouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t, he’s not…

Another soft graze of his rough knuckles to your cheek and then the front door slams open, sending both of you back in your chairs.

“Joel! Got some information for you about the drugs we gotta… Oh.” She stops in the doorway, eyes wide as she looks at you, surprised Joel has company. She’s tall, thin but built with muscle. She’s strong, long brunette hair, and hazel eyes clouding her vision.

“Joel Miller has company? Who might this be?” she asks curiously, slamming the door shut with a bang as she folds her arms over chest and nods your way.

Joel introduces you two, and you quickly learn her name is Tess. “Nice to meet you, Tess,” you say with a small smile, your arm resting on the edge of the table.

“Likewise. What happened to you? Looks like you got knocked up pretty good there.”

“It was Seth. Fucker had her pinned against one of the alleyway walls and was givin’ her trouble,” Joel spits as he flashes his incisors Tess’s way.

“That piece of shit. Wait till I get a hold of him, gonna make him wish he never saw the light of day,” she scoffs.

“He’ll be running for the hills, Tess,” he chuckles as he places his meaty hands on top of his large thighs. “What’d ya need?”

Tess leans up against the fading wallpaper and throws him a pack of chewing gum. “Found this when I was outside the walls today, but just wanted to check in about tomorrow. Wanted to go over the plans before we head out in the morning. I can come back later though and discuss it.”

Tess’s hazel eyes wander over to you, and she gives you a welcoming smile. “So, how long have you been here? Not long because I would’ve noticed a new face.”

“Just a couple weeks. Just getting settled in,” you reply as you play absentmindedly with your hair.

“Where do they have you working at? I can always stop by, give you some tips, show you around the area. I’m sure you could use a friend.”

You nod and smile up at her. “Yeah, thanks. They’ve got me working down at the weapons station. Cleaning and sorting and whatever else they tell me to do.”

“I see. I’m sure that gets redundant and boring, so maybe I can show you a thing or two to not lose your mind in this shithole,” Tess replies, making her way over to Joel.

“You’re lucky this one was around,” Tess says with a firm slap to Joel’s back, stifling a grunt from him as he pushes Tess playfully in the arm. “Joel can be a real pain in the ass, but he’s sure nice to have around.”

“Yeah yeah, shut up. Thanks for the gum,” Joel chuckles as he pushes the pack of Spearmint gum into the pocket of his jeans.

“Sure thing, handsome. I’ll see you later.” She waves and gives you a nod before heading out the door. “Welcome to the Boston QZ again.” Tess makes her grand exit and shuts the door loudly, her footsteps fading into the distance.

You twist your hands in your lap, suddenly overstimulated by the presence of an intimidating woman who clearly gets her way in the QZ. You wish you were stronger, braver, more outspoken like her. And clearly she knows how to pull Joel’s strings. You’re not jealous of her, only slightly envious that she has Joel hooked around her finger.

“She seems nice,” you say slowly, looking over at Joel as he laughs at your words.

“Yeah, she ain’t too bad. Trust me, she’ll be having Seth shakin’ like a dog out in the freezin’ rain,” he chuckles.

You laugh at his words, but suddenly you’re asking something you shouldn’t be. “Are you guys like… together?” you ask nervously, gulping down the rest of your words as you hold your breath like you’re underwater.

“Me and Tess? Nah,” he laughs, shaking his head at the mention of it. “She’s my neighbor. But we work together, she’s my partner. We smuggle things for FEDRA.”

“Smuggle things?” you ask, confused by what he means.

He leans forward and places his hands on the table. “Yeah, smuggle things. Items, sometimes people, whatever they need. We go out on a bunch of missions. Searching abandoned buildings, makin’ trades, doin’ deals with folks around here and for some of the soldiers. Kind of an easy way to get extra supplies and ration cards.”

“So you’ve got sway with the soldiers here?” you ask curiously.

“More or less. Tess is the one with the real sway, but I guess you can say people kinda fear me. They don’t really mess with me. Hell, they know not to.” He knocks his knuckles against the edge of the table, and you reach up to scratch your face, wincing when you forget how god awful sore it is.

“Shit, I forgot about my face,” you whine, gripping the edge of your denim tight as you sink your nail beds into your thigh.

“Careful there, try not to mess with it,” he warns softly, bringing back the cool washcloth to your scratches. You sit back and let him tend to your wound, watching how careful he's being with every swipe of the cloth to your fragile skin.

He’s close again, close enough to where you can smell him, inhaling the woodsy scent as summer sweat mixes with the pinecone scent. You could get drunk off the smell, and you really hope it’ll stick to your clothes when you’re back in your apartment, alone with your delusions of having his large hands all over your skin.

You watch the way his large biceps cling against his flannel shirt, like he’ll rip the soft material at any given moment. His knees brush against yours, fingertips grazing your jawline like the edge of a soft feather, enough to send tingles down your spine.

“Is it just you here?” you ask while he holds the damp cloth to your cheek.

“Jus’ me,” he murmurs, dark eyes flicking back to yours.

“Do you have family around. Anywhere?” you ask cautiously. His jaw clenches, and his lip quivers while he analyzes the question, figuring out if he wants to answer or not.

He sighs, “I’ve got a brother. Tommy.”

“Here?”

“Nah. Haven’t talked to him in years. Last I heard he was settling in Jackson, Wyoming,” he mutters, clearly annoyed about the topic of conversation.

“Why don’t you go find your brother?” you ask, conflicted if you should continue the questions.

“It’s complicated,” he grumbles.

“What’s so complicated?”

“He’s halfway across the country.”

“So?” you say mockingly.

“So? That’s a hell of a ways to go to find someone that I’m not sure even wants to see me,” he says with gritted teeth.

“Joel, I’m sure he wouldn’t be upset. What makes you think he wouldn’t want to see you?”

“We got into a bad fight, and we weren't agreeing on some things. Turns out we wanted different things, so I told him to leave, and he went. Followed some fireflies, hell if I know how long he actually stayed with them,” he scoffs, digging his worn boot into the wooden floor.

“Fireflies?” you ask with wide eyes.

“That’s what I said,” he grumbles with furrowed brows, getting annoyed with you already, but you just keep talking.

“Oh, that’s… well, that’s something. But I’m sure he’d want you to try to reach out. Would you go, if you thought he would? Do you have any other family?” you ask intrigued, pulling yourself to the edge of the seat.

He leans back and drops the washcloth to the table, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “You sure do ask a bunch of questions, don’t ya?” he huffs, crossing his arms as a hard line maps across his forehead.

“Well, I’m just saying. If I had family still alive I sure as hell would go find them, not stand back and watch them slip away from me! I fucking wish I had mine!” Your words come out louder, harsher than you mean to, and Joel’s just sitting there, staring at you with wide eyes and an expression you can’t quite read.

The room is suddenly silent, only the sounds of your labored breathing and teary eyes fogging up the room. You shouldn’t have snapped, shouldn’t have thrown that back in his face. You shouldn’t have pried, now look what you’ve done. “Sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

He opens his mouth partially, big brown eyes lathered in concern holding your gaze. He looks like he understands your pain, maybe just a fraction of that. But he doesn’t share it with you. “S’alright. Don’t gotta apologize. Think we both jus’ over shared a little too much.”

You nod, biting your tongue from saying anything else stupid. What’s wrong with you? “Yeah, guess so.” You take a deep breath, hearing him scrape his chair back while his left arm rests on the edge of the table.

You see it then, a black military watch clasped to his wrist, the glass broken and arms not moving on the watch. It’s broken, just a mere memory of some sort that you want to unlock, but now is not the time.

“Think I should get you back to your place,” he says in a deep voice, one that says he’s finished talking about family matters.

“Yeah, okay,” you say quietly.

“Where are you stayin’ at?”

“I’m in building four.”

“Alright then. That ain’t too far. C’mon, I’ll walk you back. Make sure no soldiers give ya a hard time,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Joel, wait.” Before he can push himself up, you rest your hand on top of his, feeling his warm skin simmer underneath yours.

He stares at your hand on his, ticking his jaw nervously as his brown doe eyes fall back on yours. “Thank you, for today, for saving me.”

“It was nothin’, don’t mention it,” he murmurs, sliding his hand out from under yours, memorizing the way his hand feels like fire underneath yours, mourning the loss of his skin on yours.

“I owe you.”

He looks at you with a serious gaze, his thick fingers clamping down on the material of his flannel. “Don’t owe me a damn thing, sweetheart. I’d do it all over if I had to.”

Oh.

His jaw twitches, amber eyes glowing into yours, a sudden tension filling the room. It feels a lot like longing, understanding, some kind of connection. But the spark of it snaps when he pulls back his chair and stands, nodding for you to follow him. “C’mon, let’s get you back before we break curfew.”

He leads you out of his apartment, down the rickety stairs and steers you through the winding buildings, avoiding FEDRA’s eyes on the main road. His fingertips brush against yours as he walks briskly next to you, staying near and looking every which way as to not have another run in with a soldier.

The city is musty, old brick buildings barely staying intact. Military tanks litter the streets while old broken down cars sit to rot around the QZ. You stay close to Joel, keeping quiet as he concentrates on getting you back to safety.

You should be grateful to him, you are grateful. He saved you, even though he really didn’t have to. He took care of your wounded cheek, made sure you got back to your place safely. You were eternally grateful for the broad man that showed you kindness when no one else did in this godforsaken city. Joel was a good man, as far as you could tell.

He leads you to your building, the one with the number four painted in white on the side of the old bricks. Your room is the first door on the right, a chip right next to the jiggling door handle.

You turn around and face him, leaning up against your solid oak door as you look up into those dark brown eyes you’ve grown accustomed of thinking about too much. “Thank you, Joel. For everything. Really, I owe you.”

He chuckles, running a hand through his tousled curls as he smiles a crooked grin your way. “Gotta stop sayin’ that, sweetheart. You gave me company, I’ll call that even enough.”

You swallow, nodding his way. “Alright then. I guess I’ll let you get back before they catch you outside your apartment.”

You turn around and twist the door handle, pushing it open until he stops you in your tracks and places his fingers around your wrist. “Wait a second.”

“Huh?” you ask, whipping back around to find him digging inside his back pocket and retrieving a little switchblade in his hand.

“Here.” He stretches his arm out and holds out the knife, nodding for you to take it. You just stare at it, your mouth open wide without even taking a step forward to take it.

“Well, go on. Take it.” He steps forward, brushing against your knuckles as he pries your fingers open and drops the knife in your palm, closing your fingers over the switchblade so you have no option but to keep it.

“Oh, no. Joel, I can’t. This is yours,” you argue.

He tsks your way, clicking his tongue and urging you to listen. “Keep it, I’d feel better knowin’ you had somethin’ to defend yourself with. Ya know if someone tries to mess with you again. Jus’ be careful with it,” he instructs.

You open your palm and assess the bronze blade, tracing the cold edges, watching the glisten of the sharp tip reflect off your eyes. You close it up and slide it in your pocket, looking back at Joel with a wide smile. “Thanks, Joel. You didn’t have to.”

“I did and stop thankin’ me. I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Jus’ want you to be safe is all,” he murmurs, his deep voice carrying through your ears as he pushes his hands nervously in his jean pockets.

“Oh, I see.” Your voice comes out in a mere whisper, but he hears you through the hot wind that blows against your hair.

“Jus’ watch your back, okay? It ain’t easy around here, and you can’t trust anybody.”

“What about you?”

He knits his brows together and gives you a tight lipped smile. “You can trust me, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He cups your chin, rough fingertips meeting your soft skin. It almost feels electric, like his fingers are magic, and maybe he is. That’s what he feels like.

His eyes hover over your lips for just a second, peeling them back up to meet your wide eyes. He’s got a soft side to him, something someone would miss if they weren’t looking close enough. You have a feeling he doesn’t let his guard down with just anyone, but with you he did, if only for just a few seconds.

He drops his hand from your chin and steps back, keeping his eyes aligned with yours. “Guess I’ll see ya around,” he says, stepping back away from your apartment.

“Yeah, guess you will,” you breathe.

He nods your way and gives you a small smile. “Have a good night, trouble.”

“Trouble?” you question, laughing at the accusation.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Trouble,” he chuckles as he makes his way back through the narrow buildings, disappearing with one more glance your way, capturing the deep brown eyes that look your way, memorizing them, burning them in the backs of your eyes so you can remember every fleck and sparkle of those sweet honey eyes.

You walk into your empty apartment and close the door, kicking off your shoes and dragging yourself to your falling apart mattress. You collapse into the cool white sheets, closing your eyes and replaying every glance, every touch, every word of you and Joel’s time together. You don’t know what’s come over you, but you clearly have fallen for the broad shouldered man with beautiful brown eyes.

Maybe the QZ wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe it wouldn’t end you like you thought it would. Maybe just maybe Joel would be your saving grace. Maybe those honey glazed eyes would haunt your dreams until you saw him again. And that’s exactly what happened that night. All you saw were crystal clear brown eyes and tousled curls tracing through your fingertips, sheets drenched in the summer sweat of him. You knew then that you were fucked.

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