Hii! I Hope You're Doing Good

Hii! I hope you're doing good<3

PLEASE I NEED NORE DOE!READER

Possibly with Gaz?🧎

ask n u shall receive!!!!

assuming you meant my other au where the 141 **are** also stags, so pls correct me if im wrong and i will gladly redo 🙏🤲🩷💞

gaz adores the way you walk alongside him so innocently, soft footsteps hitting along the ground—clinging to his arm! he’s so big and athletic compared to you: he told you he had to protect you! and who are you to deny him that?

loves teasing you!! listening to your little squeaks and scrunch of your nose, inhaling softly as he made some dirty comments—squishing your hip afterwards!

‘pretty lil’ doe, aren’t you?’

‘stay close to me, can’t let you get lost.’

hates when the guys come around you!! smirking and touching you in a much too friendly manner for kyles liking, soaps hand rested on your waist as he babbled to you about his day :(( sends him wild!!

definitely makes you watch him and johnny rut, bashing antlers echoing throughout the training room, fists flying afterwards :(( assured you it was just a spar—but how could you believe that when kyle was practically knocking up his bestfriend?

very rarely wins, soap is a mammoth—and ruthless, but you tend to him afterwards, so it’s okay!

you’re so sweet to him, always bringing him sweet little trinkets and buns, flowers and other bits and bobs you had found! like a little crow, tail gently buzzing side to side as he pat your head and calling you petnames!!

‘what is it, babe?’

‘it’s a cool rock! it looks like a marble, n’ then there’s a flower too—‘

‘you’re very considerate, arentcha’?’

loves when ur sleepy, placing your head on his shoulder in a daze; ears gently sinking flag against your hand, his hand intertwined with yours; kissing your forehead dotingly :(( cooing you into a haze!!

makes you watch him workout, be his spotter—be his waterwoman, everything! handing him the damp rag in your hand to wipe the sweat off his own forehead, brows furrowed as he ithced the back of his head, frizzy hair brushing against his fingers!!

‘don’t hurt yourself, kyle.’

‘promise i won’t, but if i do—you’ll look after me, wontcha’?’

‘always!’

offers to help you with your heat constantly, it’s what nature intended, right?

So Deep In My Daydreams

PAIRING phillip graves/f!reader

SUMMARY you're in your last year of grad school and decide to research private military groups for your final thesis. a friend of a friend has a connection with phillip graves, who just so happens to deeply distract you from your work.

WARNINGS some sexism, graves is kind of a douche but a loveable douche, maybe kind of ooc because it's my first time writing about him, explicitly female reader with gendered terms and pronouns

WORD COUNT 6k words

NOTES i've been itching to write about him i love him i think he's so beautiful i want him in a way that concerns feminism. anyway send me warren kole requests i'll give you a sloppy forehead kiss.

In theory, it probably would have been a lot easier to do a research paper on a retired member of a secret military group than someone who was still on active duty. A lot safer, too. But you just so happened to know someone who’s close friends with Phillip Graves, and when you told said connection that you were writing a paper for your grad school thesis on some of the people that don’t get very much recognition in the service, you were told by your mutual friend that they knew just the guy. That guy happened to be actively serving and willing to let you follow him around for a little while to get whatever investigative information it was that you needed. 

Of course, there were rules that you were informed of the first day you met him somewhere away from where he actually worked. A little coffee shop that he seemed familiar with, though his order of tea with extra sugar made you laugh. You knew that he was a southerner, but extra sweet tea at eight in the morning made you feel a little bit more at ease with him.

He was intimidating when you met him. A typical pretty boy. Blond hair, blue eyes, dimples that made you feel like you were going to fall over the first time he shook your hand. But he also had a deep scar on his face, something that might taint the otherwise All-American good looks he had to himself, but not to you. The scar being that deep looked like it must have hurt, you couldn’t have imagined how much it hurt when he was covering. But he didn’t cover it, it pridefully. 

That all intimidated you. The battle scar on his face, his Southern charm and boyish good looks. It made you want to turn around and go home, just forget the entire grad school thing and pay off your student loans taking side jobs. But he was kind to you, albeit quick-witted, and his sweet tea and eagerness to actually show someone interested in what he did and why more people don’t know about it what his life is like. 

Graves made it clear to you from that very first meeting that there were some things you couldn’t include in your paper. His name, or the name or location of his organization, were off-limits. You could notate them, obviously, but they weren’t to be shared with anyone else. He also wanted you to keep any missions you were privy too off of the books, but it was his phraseology that made you question what you were actually getting yourself into. 

It hadn’t really set in prior to this that you were going to be working with someone who commands an active squad. Even so, you imagined that he would just leave you sitting around while he goes out. So you implored him further asked him if you were going to see any active combat. He left the answer to that up to you. He made it clear that he didn’t want to put you in any situations that were going to be too unsafe for a civilian, but he also made some comment about how his ‘mama raised him right,’ and ‘he wouldn’t want you to think you were being left out on because you’re a woman’. 

Had he not looked so pretty when you said it, you would have rolled your eyes. But he did look so pretty when he said it, so you decided that you would accompany him only once. Or twice, depending on how dangerous or not dangerous his missions were. You weren’t particularly sure you were comfortable with it, or sure that you wouldn’t get cold feet a few minutes before, but you were sure the government was not giving you access to a single camera on a plane, helicopter, base, or even a bodycam. If you wanted to know what happened on missions directly, you were going to have to go on one. The entire point of the research paper was giving a voice to those in the service who worked in anonymity - what good would you be doing if you refused to take the chance to do it right?

He seemed to understand this, and gave you a few more ground rules. Rules that men around the base followed, a paper that you needed to sign verifying that you weren’t going to go around town telling people the name of every single person in his Shadow Company. The truth was, he probably wasn’t going to tell you most of their names and you knew that. If you talked to someone, assuredly they would share it. But you were working with him, not joining the team. 

There was a certain cadence in the way he talked that made you wonder if he was just acting subdued that first morning. He showed you around but kept you close to him, he introduced you to his team but it was incredibly brief. You mistook that for him being incredibly cautious to not show you anything that you weren’t supposed to see. He was cautious, of course, he didn’t want to accidentally leak government documents to you, but he also made you sign an NDA before you left his office.

The first meeting went well, but you would be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous to work with him. Not just because this was a group of elite operatives that all could kill you in a moment’s notice, but because Graves was beautiful. He was, of course, older than you, but you didn’t see a ring on his finger. You didn’t hear him mentioning a wife or girlfriend at home, nor did you hear him mentioning the perils of raising children. In your experience, most people with children bring it up during small talk at some point, even if just in passing. He said nothing, didn’t even give the slightest hint that he had someone or something to go home to.

That, itself, gave you more to deal with than you were sure you were equipped for. Romance had been a sector of your life you neglected to begin with, but feeling an undeniable attraction to the older man that you were shadowing just felt like a mistake. There was no way that he was going to want anything to do with some random civilian that was following him around like a lost puppy, writing down everything of note that he said, and you didn’t want to be sent packing within a week because you couldn’t just keep it in your pants like a reasonable adult should.

Perhaps that was why you made an effort to dess nicely every time you left your off-campus apartment to go work with Graves. Well, ‘work with’ was a strong term. You were working with him in the sense that he was giving you information, but you weren’t really working together on the paper. The most you had gotten him to agree to do was let you learn from him, you had no expectations that he was going to help you with anything beyond making sure that you didn’t include anything that was confidential. 

The first week went by okay, despite your worries that you were going to do or say something embarrassing. But, you did learn rather quickly that the charming demeanor that Graves had put on when you first met him was a little false. 

He wasn’t mean to you by any means, but it took him all of one day for him to start teasing you like you were old friends. Making jokes about you being a civilian on the base, about you needing to make it home for your bedtime since he knew you had class in the morning. It wasn’t that he was being mean, he wasn’t being mean. He was just treating you like an old friend, and he happened to be incredibly teasing when speaking to his old friends. 

You really didn’t mind it, especially once you were comfortable with him. You kind of liked it. You liked being involved, even if he made you roll your eyes. You liked it when he teased you and ruffled your hair (even though it made you feel younger than you wanted to feel, since he was also making your attraction toward him a lot stronger), you liked feeling like you were a part of the team even when you knew that you weren’t. Not in the sense that you went with them when there was something small that they needed to handle, because you typically hung around in Graves’ office working on homework until he got back when that happened. In the sense that he was comfortable enough to pick on you, and if he was comfortable with you, you were comfortable with him.

The second week was where things started getting a little strange, though. Because you knew you were attracted to him, and you knew there was nothing you could do to stop it, but you were also spending far too much time with him for you to even get it off of your mind. 

The thing was, if he had any issue with you spending so much time hanging around him, he didn’t make it clear. He did the polar opposite of make it clear, because he encouraged it. You, however, kept reminding yourself that he only encouraged it because he had to. He didn’t actually want to spend any time with you, he had to because you came here to learn from him. Why would he actually want to spend time sitting in his office, discussing his day with you? 

That was what you told yourself until about mid-week. He had gone out in the field Tuesday morning, it was a one-day mission and when he told you that he was going to be gone for an entire day you jumped on the chance to go with him. You had agreed that you would go with him at least once, but he continually told you that this one was too risky. After your third attempt at getting him to change his mind, the irritated look on his face was enough to get you to stop asking. 

When he came back Wednesday afternoon, you had made yourself at home in his office with your laptop and a coffee. You knew that he was coming back at some point, he had called to let you know, but you were nervous, too. He sounded stressed and exhausted on the phone, he sounded like he had been through something and you weren’t sure if you were the right person to be there when he was coping with whatever it was. 

It was when he walked through the door that you regretted not going somewhere else, sitting in a common space so he could distress rather than sitting there with your eyes wide open as you listened to him vent about every single thing that had gone wrong. Apparently, a lot had gone wrong. At first, it was terrifying. This commander was pacing around, yelling at nothing but seemingly speaking to you, still wearing his full military apparel, and you were just supposed to… sit there? Silently? 

There was no part of you that figured he wanted advice, but when he finished speaking and you offered him some, he seemed to calm down. Not because he was calmed so much by you, but because he just seemed to recall that you were actually there. That you were a civilian and weren’t used to hearing him get worked up and angry. He offered you a hand, helping you stand and bending down to pick up your things. 

He was quiet when he did it, quiet until he told you that he would get you something so you could sit more comfortably if you weren’t quite as comfortable working at a desk. Like you were going to be here for longer than the next five and a half weeks, like you were making yourself at home in his office. Graves wasn’t mean, was what you fully learned that day. He could be a dick sometimes, and he could really get angry, but he wasn’t mean to you. He was just the way that he was, and you learned that you rather liked the way that he was. 

It wasn’t so much learning that he was probably never going to be mean to you, or even the fact that when you came in the next morning he had a comfortable set up for you by the window (because the corner was ‘fucking degrading’ and ‘you’re a lady, not a dog’). It wasn’t what he did for you, but the fact that he was willing to. The fact that he liked talking to you, and he liked having you around, and he was willing to aggressively complain about his day to you like you were an old married couple and this was just his usual. 

Some part of it nauseated you. You didn’t want to be so comfortable with someone you were shadowing. Someone who you would probably never see again in the coming weeks. Someone who you knew worked a dangerous job, someone who didn’t seem to have time for family or a relationship because if he did he wouldn’t still be single without children. He was too beautiful and too charming to be involuntarily single. So, either his standards were so high that every woman disappointed him, he was a terrible person if you got to know him, or he just didn’t have the time.

You chose to believe the latter.

Which was what made it all the more difficult for you to finish that week and the next. Even more difficult now, as you’re approaching week four of your little experiment. 

This is the week that you’re accompanying him on a small mission if nothing goes wrong. He says that it’s nothing extreme, an extraction for someone who’s not in any immediate danger. Since the team is in a helicopter, it’s going to be pretty obvious when they show up so his team was called, if someone needed to be taken out, they were apparently the best at it. 

But you were also closer to (probably) never seeing him again, and you didn’t like that. Phillip Graves was a lot of things, and even if you didn’t know the full extent of it you knew that. But you were okay with it, even though you weren’t sure why. You like being around him, you liked it when he let you hang out in his office, you liked it when he made fun of you. 

You didn’t want to have to go back to what you were doing before. To write this research assignment and finish speaking to him. That’s probably why you looked so glum this morning, so unwilling to actually take down any of the notes he was telling you to take down before he got on the phone with Shepherd. 

“Do you need a coffee?” 

“Hmm? No, no more coffee.” You’ve already had two, but you still hadn’t found the energy to do much other than look at him. 

“Is there something on my face, then?”

“No, I-”

“Let me guess, one of those college boys pissed you off?”

“Ha ha.” You responded, glancing down at your empty notepad. You hadn’t even bothered to write down the date, let alone jot down the ways that Graves has been preparing for this phone call. “You know I don’t… get up to that.” 

“Aw, honey, no need to be ashamed. You’re allowed to be active in whatever way you want.” His teasing tone only made you roll your eyes, but when your smile seemed to falter he actually got a bit concerned. “Do you want me to kill him?”

“Why do you sound serious?” You commented, finally letting a small smile cross your lips. “No, no. There’s no one to kill, it’s not- I don’t know, I’m just not feeling… I don’t like it when- I guess I’m just not at my best today.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously, darting them at the time before standing up from his desk. “Let’s take a walk.”

“But you have a call?”

“In thirty minutes, were you paying any attention?” Admittedly, you had not been paying any attention. 

“Uh-”

“I’ll take that as a no. Are you going to get up, or am I going to drag you?”

“Alright, alright. Fine.” You stood up from your chair, pushing it into his desk as you walked out of the office with him. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, he never really walked you around the base unless you were just following him to conduct business. That was most of what you did with him. He conducted business, you followed him around. You just also happened to engage in conversation with each other, more conversation than you probably should if you wanted to keep things entirely platonic. 

“Where are we going.”

“On a walk.”

“To where?”

“Wherever I feel like walking.” 

Whether he actually knew where he was going was becoming unclear. So, while you started formulating the conspiracy theory in your head that he actually wanted to take you on a ‘walk’ so he could wear you down and get you to admit what was bothering you, he ended up actually bringing you somewhere that you had never actually been before.

It was a small room that required clearance to enter, but he quickly grabbed your arm and drug you in after him. It looked like a tiny records room, but the only records seemed to be of whatever missions they were currently working on. It had nothing to do with you, and you shouldn’t be in here. But you doubted that he brought you into this room to show you classified information.

“What are we doing in here? Is it legal for me to be in here.”

“No. And we’re playing a fun game called-”

“I don’t want to play seven minutes in heaven, I’m not 15.” 

“I can… see how your mind would go there, that’s my fault.” He seemed a bit surprised by the quick response, and how you had even gotten there. But a small smile spread across his face, a cocky one that you had gotten a little bit too used to. “Is that your only objection to that? That it’s immature?” 

Rolling your eyes, you backed away from him but felt his hand on your shoulder holding you in place. “Stop it.” 

“I’m gonna need you to tell me what’s buggin’ you, because you’re gonna be up in the air in two days and I need to know if that’s going to be a problem.” He almost sounded genuinely concerned, and you almost wanted to go ahead and tell him what it was that was bothering you. But, then he opened his mouth again. “If it’s just your time of the month, I’m sure we-”

“Fuck’s sake.” You pulled back from him again, moving toward the door and stopping to turn back at him. “It’s not my time of the fucking month, I just… forgot an assignment that was due last night until the last minute and I’m exhausted.”

“And you’re sure it’s not your time of the month? Because that’s no way for a lady to speak.”

“How do you know how a lady should speak?” You opened the door for him, walking out behind him as he started walking you back to his office. Fighting the feeling of disappointment, the feeling that this was your only chance to get him to engage with you in some way other than platonic, you followed him back to his office. You knew he was on a time constraint, you knew that you needed to take notes on his call with Shepherd and then redact them with him right after. And you knew that it needed to be done soon. 

“I know exactly how a lady should speak, want me to teach you?” 

“You’re insufferable.” 

A part of you struggled to understand why you liked the man as much as you did. Sometimes, he said the absolute most rude things he could possibly manage, but other times, he was nice to you. You never really thought he was trying to hurt your feelings, just that he might not be too broken up about it if he did. He never did, though. You liked the teasing, as much as you claimed that you didn’t. 

“What are you doing later?” You didn’t notice how close behind you he was until you felt his arm on your forearm, your head tilting toward him as you opened the door to his office. He made you feel caged in, and though it made your heart race, you did your best to act as normal about it as you possibly could.

“I don’t know, probably sitting in my apartment and watching… something. I never know.”

“What are you eating?”

“Probably pasta or… something. You’re awfully curious.” You walked into his office, attempting to create some distance between the two of you before your heart tried to jump out of your chest. But he stayed close, his hand remaining on your arm. His grasp wasn’t firm, you could pull away from him if you wanted to. But you really didn’t want to. 

“I’m curious because some of the guys are trying to convince me to go to the bar with them tonight, I thought I’d ask.”

“If I’ll go to the bar with you? Or are you not convinced?”

“I could be convinced.” Was he flirting with you? Was that what was going on? Or did he naturally have a tone when he spoke that made you feel so hot and bothered that you just presumed that he was flirting with you because you wanted him to be? You weren’t sure. You were just sure that you almost felt like you were going to pass out right then and there.

Still, you kept your composure and nodded. “Sure, why not? Could be fun.” 

“Good, okay.” He let go of you, checking the time again before sitting back down. You pulled your chair up beside him while he explained what you were going to need to write down, and it was like that upset that you had been feeling earlier that kept you distracted had gone away entirely. Granted, it probably should have been a lot worse now that you were actually going to be spending some more time with him than you needed to be spending with him outside of this place. 

But for the time being, you were content to listen. Content to sit next to him and watch him, content to wonder what it would feel like trailing your finger along the scar on his cheek even though you knew that was never going to be possible for you. You were happy just to look at him, even though you felt like you didn’t have the right to. Even though you worried that you were being too obvious, that he was going to notice at some point because you really weren’t trying to hide it. 

Well, you were. You were in the sense that you weren’t saying anything, but you weren’t in the sense that you weren’t quite sure what to hide. If you distanced yourself, it would look odd. Sticking by his side at all times is literally what you’re there for, so running off would make you look like you have something to hide. Staring at him, at least right now, could be explained away if you simply wrote observations about the way he was acting within your notes and claimed that it was something hat you felt the need to have documented down for when you go ahead and write your thesis. 

So, when you did review what you had written with him after the phone call, maybe it seemed more normal to him that you seemed to be watching his reactions like it was your professional job. Maybe he didn’t assume that you were staring at him for the sake of staring at him, and not because you actually felt the need to monitor his reactions to every little thing that happened. If he didn’t assume that, he didn’t say anything about it. Knowing him, you were sure he would have.

That, however, did not stop you from overthinking when you went back home to change. It didn’t stop you from feeling like you were getting yourself into something you shouldn’t be when he sent you a message to let you know where to meet him, and it definitely didn’t make you feel any better about things as you were on the way there. It was definitely a step further than what you were used to for you to be going to a bar with him, not on the request of any of the other Shadows but because he had asked you to.

But it wasn’t just that, not really. It was also the fact that he had seemed to imply that you agreeing to go could convince him to go as well. That your presence made him want to be there. It was easier to convince yourself that meant nothing, either. If anything, he probably just wanted to get to the bottom of why you were acting so strange this morning and didn’t actually believe that you were just exhausted. He knew your schedule and what work you needed to do because you told him, because you worked in his office. You didn’t have an assignment due last night that was stressing you out, and telling that kind of a lie was probably not the best idea considering the fact that he would probably knew if you did. 

By the time you did get there, you almost wanted to turn around. Truthfully, you didn’t know most of the other people here very well. You assumed that was by design. Though you were doing research on them, you understood the boundaries being placed here. It wasn’t like you were enlisting, and they weren’t technically something you could enlist into if you wanted to. You were an outsider, and these things were secret for a reason. You knew Graves, and you knew the names of some of the other men here, but beyond the one man that you knew personally, you knew very little about the other people that were going to be here tonight.

Still, you walked through the doors and did your best to not act like you were incredibly nervous. You knew that you only had a few weeks left of this little research assignment before you were cut loose. If you didn’t have very much longer to speak to the man, and you were already getting a bit lethargic about never seeing him again since you didn’t even know he existed before this, what was the harm in spending one night getting to know what he was like when he wasn’t working? 

Walking through the door, you managed to spot him after only a few seconds. He had his head buried in his phone, and the thought of approaching him made you make a beeline to the bar. He had invited you here, but he had invited you because everyone else was going to be here. Had it even been his plan to invite you here? Was it someone else that suggested it? Had you just been overthinking every little thing earlier and he was just extending an invitation from someone else? 

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder as you told the bartender your order brought you back to reality. You didn’t need to go into fight mode as you recognized the warmth of his hand the smell of his body. 

“Graves.”

“I was starting to think you got lost.” Turning around, you finally got a good look at what he was wearing. He was dressed casually, his t-shirt making the bulk of his arms look just a little too distracting. If you had more time to look without seeming creepy, you would have spent more time trying to memorize the way that the freckles lining his body looked. Instead, you poked your finger gently into a spot on his arm.

“How’d you get that?” 

“Where’d you learn your manners?” He questioned, reaching behind you so he could grab your drink. You didn’t notice until it was too late that he did this so he could pay for it, and though your brain was starting to short circuit, you still tried your hardest to stop him from doing that. 

“I can pay for my own drink-”

“When I first started out I got shot in the arm, it went across.” He responded, his hand lightly covering your finger that was placed on his skin for a moment as if to tell you what he was referring to. But he dropped it quickly, motioning for you to join him at the table he was sitting at. The table he was sitting at alone, but you recognized the Shadows that were playing (or observing) a game of pool just a few feet away from you so you were sure that he wasn’t going to be alone for long. 

Following him, you tried to sit across from where you had seen him sitting but felt him sitting beside you. “You seem clingy.”

“Not clingy, it’s just fucking loud. And they’ll be joining us, at some point.” 

“Why don’t you play with them?” You questioned, watching him as he slid his drink over to the side of the table that he was now sitting at. He felt too close, his thigh nearly pressed against yours, but you liked it when he felt too close. You liked the way it felt to be beside him, to not have the space that separated you when you were sitting in your desk chairs beside each other. To not need to write up some notes while you’re sitting with him. Just to be here, and it was overwhelming.

“They’re lucky I’m here.” 

“You act like you hate them.”

“I don’t hate them, I just have better things to be doing.”

“That’s kinda rude.” You mumbled, smiling slightly at the glare that you felt meeting your face. “Sorry for boring you, Commander. Won’t happen again.”

“You know, sometimes I regret letting you follow me around.”

“Asshole.” 

“I don’t think you have the authority to speak to me like that.” He commented, bringing his hand up to pat you on the head. “You know I’m fucking with you.”

“‘Course I know that.” You grumbled, taking a sip of your drink. “Thank you for paying for it.”

“You’re in grad school, I’m sure you’re broke.” 

“Somehow, you still find a way to ruin a nice gesture. It’s amazing.” You replied, but you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling. As much as you couldn’t place why you liked someone who was so cocky, someone who teased you as much as he did, you knew that you did. You liked being around him, and you liked being friendly with him. “You don’t regret having me around, you fucking love having me around.”

“You’ve had shit to drink and you’re already cocky?”

“I’m just honest.” 

And you pre-gamed with a shot of vodka, but who’s counting?

“Tell me why you were so upset earlier and I’ll tell you if I love having you around.” You sighed and shook your head, stirring the little umbrella in your drink as you glanced down at it. “‘Cause I’m positive it’s about me.”

“And I’m the cocky one?”

“Never said I wasn’t.” He retorted, leaning over a bit. He was closer than he was before, too close. Close enough that you were almost positive that you felt his breath huffing over your forehead as he leaned over to stop you from aggressively stirring your beverage. “You should just tell me.”

“I was… just thinking about how we’re more than half way through this thing.”

“And you’re gonna miss me? I knew you were gonna miss me. Was that so hard to admit?” You turned to glare at him, but felt your breath hitch as how close his face was to yours. “I do love having you around, you should stay. The random civilian woman that sits in my office, could be a nice position for you.” 

“You want me to be your… office wife?” 

“Woah there, we haven’t even been on a date and you’re already taking the title of my wife?” He feigned offense, but you could see a smile on his face. He had a nice smile when he used it, and dimples that made you went to melt into the gaps in the floorboards. 

“How did you get that one?” You mumbled, momentarily distracted as your pointer finger traced over the scar on his cheek. 

“I’ll tell you,” He responded, taking your hand that was on his face into his. He slowly lowered it, but you were too distracted by the way his eyes held your to think much of the way that he placed your hand back on his lap; like he was insecure about the wound for whatever reason, or maybe just triggered by it. “Just not today.” 

“No fun.” 

He grinned again, your eyes once again becoming fixated on his dimples before feeling his mouth against yours. The feeling was shocking for a brief second, your body reacting incredibly slowly to it before you returned the kiss. It wasn’t strange, it felt right, even though you knew you didn’t know as much about him as you would probably (typically) want to know about someone that you were kissing. 

But it really didn’t matter, because he tasted good and he smelled good and even though he was kind of a douchebag you still liked him way more than you liked anyone else that you had ever had the pleasure - or displeasure - of flirting with. 

The feeling of his hand on the back of your neck, his thumb stroking over your skin, it was too much and it was not enough. You moved a bit closer to him, your hand grasping his arm. His skin was rough, slight bumps from scars in certain areas, but it also felt warm and comforting. Comfortable. You liked being around him, you liked feeing entirely consumed by him like this. 

He was the one to break it, chuckling at the dazed look in your eyes before leaning over to take a sip of your drink. “I’ll tell you in four weeks.”

“But-” 

“You said you wanted to be my little office wife, didn’t you?”

“That was a joke, I don’t want to live in your office.” 

“We’ll figure something out.” You noted someone moving toward the table out of the corner of your eye, quickly bringing your finger up to wipe the tiny amount of smudged lipstick from his mouth before leaning back in your seat. You would figure something out, because he absolutely could not have you privy to confidential information as much as you were now and he also couldn’t try to shield you forever with you hanging around his workplace.

Maybe, if having you as his live-in office wife was going to be prove to be too dangerous - especially in the instance that you found out that his job wasn’t as moral as you were under the false impression that it was - , he figured he could eventually just go for the real thing. Just… not for a little while.

one a month, i talk about long haired!könig/metalhead!könig

it should be canon he was a metalhead at some point in his life. ive talked about how he'd be in a band in school, probably playing the electric guitar or drums. he appreciates goth and metal music and he'd 100% fuck you to his playlist.

be prepared for sore ears and a sore cunt, he won't be gentle ;3 🌷

I’m sorry if this has already been asked, but how do you think the boys would help a s/o with depression? I’m having a really bad episode right now and I want some comfort from my boys. I love your writing and I hope you have a good day and that you are never cursed with burnout.

oh, anon, all my love to you. i, too, have a brain that sabotages me, i can only relate to how you're feeling. fortunately, so can our boys.

gaz notices immediately when you slip into a depressive episode. his sister has depression, he's seen it over and over again. it breaks his heart that your brain is so mean to you, and that there's literally fuckall he can do to fix it for you. so he does what he can to just make sure you're comfortable- he brings you tea, brings you meds and some vitamin d, makes your meals for you to make sure you eat, and herds you into the shower every other day or so. generally he just makes sure your basic needs are being met, all the while checking in with a how're we feeling today, babes? any better? no? well then, i'll put on some tea and toast and we'll watch spirited away. might not make it all better, but it can't hurt. everything's going to be fine.

soap takes a little while to clock that you're not your usual self, but when he notices that your enthusiasm for, well, anything has dropped to zero, he's alarmed. tries not to panic or anything in front of you, but still sticks close. he's usually pretty touchy-feely anyways, but now he's always got a hand on you, or has himself pressed against your side. when you can't get out of bed all day, he's right with you, declaring it an 'all day slumber party' and staying cuddled up with you, dropping kisses into your greasy hair and giving you all the reassurances you need as you sob into his chest. love ye, hen. cannae imagine bein' without ye. we'll get through this, together. side by side, long as it takes. as many times as it happens. won't leave yer side just because yer brain is so mean t'ye.

price takes the reins completely. the two of you have been through these episodes before, he's got an s.o.p. written up and it follows it to the letter. calls your job and tells them you're deathly ill while being vague about what with. lets friends and family know you're too unwell to make those social obligations for a while. sets your email to an out of office auto-reply. takes you around the neighborhood for your mental health walk every day at 2pm (and gracefully accepts the less-than-kind words you have to say about it as he bullies you out the door). takes a shower with your every evening at 7, scrubbing you down and rinsing the shampoo from your hair. makes sure you get your three square meals a day, complete with supplements. the rest of the time he's by your side, telling you he's got this, you don't have to worry about a thing, love. i'll take care of it all, you just focus on feelin' better. more than happy to look after you, however long you need. said 'for better or for worse', didn't i? 'in sickness and in health'? meant it, every single word. you take such good care of me, dove, it's only fair i take care of you too, isn't it? love you so much, it's heartbreaking to see you feeling so rotten. i'd take it from you if i could.

ghost understands completely what it's like to wake up every day feeling numb and hopeless, to have no motivation or energy to do even the most menial things. he also know it works differently for everyone, so he just starts cleaning. he'll herd you into whatever room it is he's working in, dropping a big bean bag chair and some blankets in the corner as he gets to work sorting, scrubbing, washing, and vacuuming. you just rest and fuck around on your phone or zone out or cry or nap, and he keeps you company as he works quietly. an alarm on his phone goes off three times a day, signaling for him to bring you something simple to eat with a glass of water. a fourth, different alarm, goes off when it's time to tuck you back into bed. he wraps himself around you, holding you tight, petting at your hair while he kisses behind your ear. love you so much. need you to stay here, all right? know it's temptin' not to, but i need you, love. you're the only family i've got. and we're a team, yeah? we look out for each other. need you to have my back. you know i've got yours. you tell me how best to take care of ya, and i will. whatever you need, sweetheart. just have to let me know. can't risk losin' you.

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 5 — 𝖕𝖙 4 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 7.6k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom/sub dynamic, petplay (as always), thigh reading, pussy eating, johnny gives reader a piggyback ride.

notes - it's here! and my life and health is worse for it, but it's here! please don't expect the next part any time soon, but thank you to those patiently waiting ♥ also on ao3! ♥

"Told you, pet, this mouth is mine now."

Johnny's mouth continues its loving assault on yours, overwhelming you with his kisses. It's filled with the same passion as the first time, but now Johnny's heat seeps straight from his bones and into you. 

His hands fall to your wrists, his touch warm and caressing and pinning you ever so slightly in place—just enough to keep you still, not enough to really restrict you. 

It's Johnny who pulls away from you, an exhaled fuck falling from his lips—your eyes flutter open to meet his, the baby blues flooded with lust. 

His gaze flickers to your lips before he whispers. "I dinnae want to stop kissing ye." 

He steals your breath with both the words and the feeling of his lips when they return to yours, each slide against you as if he's stealing them, afraid he won't get another for too long. Though with Johnny, you get the feeling any second your lips aren't connected to his are ones he wishes for nothing else. 

"Yeah, fuck..." You sigh as Johnny pulls away, his grip loosening as his forehead settles against yours. 

Neither of you can fight the smiles on your faces, as you both bask in each other's joy, and the rush of endorphins and arousal running through you. 

Johnny always makes you feel electric.

He laughs breathlessly, eyes sparkling with mirth as you can see him try to restrain himself. "'Spose I should let ye get settled first before I ravage ye." 

"I have no complaints if you don't." You giggle in return, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before willing yourself to pull away too. "But yeah, probably a good idea."

If both of you had less self-control, you had no doubts the tension could have pushed you into rutting in the entryway like rabid dogs, only managing to bare yourselves just enough to have Johnny sink inside you. From the look in his eyes and the feeling of his hardness pressed against you, he wants to take you here and now—but he's nothing if not a gentleman. 

You have no doubt that your own glassy eyes and soaked panties betray your need just the same, and there's a desperate, animalistic part of your brain that wants to drag him inside by the belt so that you can fall to your knees before him. 

Johnny straightens himself up, taking ahold of your hand and preparing to head into the flat proper. "Want the tour of the place?" 

You nod eagerly. "Of course." 

You pull your hand free for just a moment to abandon your shoes by the door-—leaving them amongst the existing pile of boots, which Johnny only adds to with his own.

With your hands reconnected and fingers intertwined, he guides you into the warmth of the flat. 

"I mean, the place is tiny, so it won't take long." He jokes, as he pulls you in further and throws his keys on the countertop. "Tada, living room and kitchen all in one." 

You take in the open space around you—the room flooded with moonlight and a faint glow from under the kitchen cupboards, as well as a lamp that's lit in the corner. The ceilings are high, and the floors are wooden—the kitchen and living room combined to create a large, albeit cosy room.

"Nice and spacious! I like that it's open plan." You coo, as Johnny paces forward, and you allow him to guide you. Your eyes rove over everything, from the well-worn couch to the framed photos of him and his squad, or the pictures of wild-eyed kids that can only be Johnny's nieces and nephews. 

"Aye. Can have ye curled up on the couch while am cooking, terribly, mind ye." Johnny nudges you playfully with his hip, drawing your attention back to the radiant smile on his face.

You follow him down a small corridor with doors on both sides. The door to the left opens into a bathroom with a large, walk-in, waterfall shower, illuminated with soft lighting when Johnny flicks the switch.

"Bathroom, with no bath." He explains, before his expression flickers to something briefly resembling a kicked puppy. "Bit sad about tha'." 

"Are you a bath man?" You ask, your mind visualising the muscular man indulging in rich aromas and piles of bubbles—it serves as quite the entertaining mental image. And then your mind flickers to him in the shower, water cascading down his toned body, knots in his shoulders just begging for relaxation...

"Absolutely. And if yer not into baths, I think I know just the way to convert ye." His hand squeezes yours playfully as he throws you a wink, and you're left wondering if he could somehow sense that your thoughts have turned dirty.

"I like the sound of that." 

Finally, you cross the hallway into the bedroom—a room filled with a mixture of earth tones and navy blues, the place is clean and tidy, beside the pile of clothes and various other things piled onto the chair in the corner. 

"And where we'll be staying, unless you'd prefer I sleep on the couch." 

You don't miss the sheepish look on his face, the look that tells you that sleeping apart from you is the last thing he'd rather do tonight—but you know that he'd do it in a heartbeat if you asked. 

Stepping closer into his space, you lace your other hand in his and sway them back and forth, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I will be falling asleep on your chest. That's non-negotiable, Johnny." 

"I'm glad tae hear." He pushes himself forward to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment after. "Can be ma little blanket for the night." 

"... But aye, that's about it." He gestures to the room with one of your intertwined hands.

"It's cosy here, I like it." You comment with a smile, taking in the welcoming atmosphere of the room—the hints that the place is lived in. 

Johnny comments as he moves closer to your ear—his breath warm as it flutters over your skin. "Hopefully, the first visit of many." 

"I hope so too. I'll be leaving my toothbrush here before you know it." 

You pull yourself from Johnny's hold, falling back onto the mattress and allowing your dress to ride up your legs as you prop yourself up on your elbows and stare at Johnny temptingly.

Your eyes trail over his body, savouring every delicious inch that is John MacTavish. His eyes chart a similar path, following up your exposed thighs. 

"Anyway, I think I'm all settled in now." You purr, trying to coax him back into kissing you like he was earlier. 

"Steamin' jesus." He all but growls as he comes closer, crawling over you and leaning down near to your lips as his arms cage you in. "Someone's a needy pup." 

With his face hovering inches from yours, you relish the opportunity to drink him all in. His baby blues sparkle with lust and fondness as they peer down at you, slightly hidden behind hooded lids. His eyelashes flutter so prettily, bouncing off his sweet, stubbled cheeks. 

Your eyes fall to his soft lips, the scar underlining them that you want to trace your thumb and tongue across—learn the story of. 

"Kiss me again, Johnny, please." You whisper softly, as one of his hands begins to stroke the top of your head. 

"Askin' so nicely, how can I say no?" He smirks one last time before closing the gap, both of your eyes fluttering shut as your lips finally reconnect. 

There's never a moment when Johnny's lips don't feel heavenly—he kisses you like a man starved and allows his hips to falter and press against your core. His clothed erection rubs against your centre, the denim pushing across your thin panties and sending your brain spinning. 

It's instinct when you buck your hips up into his, chasing more contact from his throbbing length. The more time you spend around Johnny, the more intoxicated you become on his presence—your hesitations melt away, replaced by an overwhelming need that's only sated when Johnny is pressed against you. 

The moan that leaves your throat is entirely accidental, but causes Johnny to buck against you and groan right back at you—after the moment of slipped control, he stills.  

"Bonnie..." Johnny pulls away, a soft, hesitant look in his eyes as he tries his hardest to hold back. "I meant what I said about not expecting anything." 

For a moment, you feel awful, like a temptress pushing him to the limits of his self-restraint—but your own desires swirl inside you dangerously, with every moment with Johnny only adding fuel to the fire. 

The fact Johnny can want you so passionately and still remain firmly in charge of the both of you only reinforces the disgustingly puppylike crush you have on him.

"I know. I'm just enjoying kissing you properly." You sigh before taking a deep breath to release some of your pent-up arousal. 

"Aye, me too." He continues to stroke at the top of your head as his thumb brushes across your warm cheek, making you shiver. "Hard to keep ma hands to myself." 

"Yeah, tell me about it." Your hands rake down his chest, slowing once you feel the hardness of his abs beneath the cotton.

Johnny's hand falls to clutch your wrists, stilling your exploration of his body. The look in his eyes is all cheek and charm. "I should get you fed." 

"Boo."

The look turns ever so slightly warning. "Pup, Johnny knows best, aye?" 

"To the kitchen!" You announce cheerfully, breaking through the tension of the moment and redirecting the both of you before you end up wrapping your legs around Johnny and refusing to let go until he's spilled himself inside you.

With a breathy laugh, Johnny stands from the bed, turning around and offering his back for you to climb upon. When he finally has you safely stowed on him, his fingers gripping at your thighs as your arms wrap around his neck, he carries you to the kitchen.

Johnny doesn't let you back down to the floor immediately, instead heading to the fridge with you still clinging to him like a koala.

"Probably should've asked ye what toppings you wanted, but I just grabbed a bit of everything." He explains as he opens the door and reveals a shelf bursting with cheeses, vegetables, and meats. 

You quickly scan the shelf for any nasty surprises like the anchovies or olives Johnny had mentioned on the way over, and find yourself relieved that everything on offer is delicious—with some of your favourite pizza toppings even there. "So much choice, and nothing disgusting, I'm surprised, Johnny." 

"Hey now, I do have taste... sometimes." The pout in his voice is evident as he shuffles you further up his back before removing the hold of one of his hands to start removing the dough, sauce, and toppings so he can set them atop the counter. 

Your eyes fall to the rest of the shelves, with the vast majority of them being stacked with the same plastic poultry liners. "Johnny, your fridge is 90% plain chicken breast, I'm not sure that I trust that." 

"Well, actually, some of that is turkey." He smirks, until you lean forward into his sight-line with a grumpy look on your face. "Dinnae go glaring at me, bonnie girl." 

"Clearly I need to be fed so I have less of an attitude." You huff, playfully teasing him about his earlier interruption to your fun.

Johnny finally lowers you to the ground, setting you beside him before he grabs the final few ingredients. "I'm working on it!"

With everything ready and set out, you start to plan out the deliciousness that will be your creation. Everything Johnny picked out is fresh and delicious, and almost calling out to you to be a part of your meal. You rush to wash your hands so you can get started. 

"I feel like I'm gonna pick too many toppings and my pizza will just be a mess." You explain as you start to open a few packets while Johnny moves to the sink. "What are you having?" 

"Lil bit of everything, why no'?" He shrugs, the smile on his face wide and infectious.

"I'm so excited!" You giggle, already thoroughly enjoying your little pizza party with Johnny. As you watch Johnny dry his hands and then begin to work the dough, a mischievous thought pops into your head. "It's a shame we didn't make the dough from scratch, though." 

As soon as Johnny looks at you, he knows exactly where your thoughts have headed, and his face splits with an amused grin. "So ye could throw flour at me?"

"Flour fight, exactly." You nod. 

Johnny sets down the dough, moving into your space and grabbing you by the hips to spin you to face him. He looms over you— grin now devilish, eyes sharp and tone teasing. "I'd win, hen, dinnae think otherwise." 

You bite your lip, staring up at Johnny and shivering under his touch. "Hmm, you'd be covered in flour and looking so good, so I think I'd really be the winner."

"Next time, then." He purrs as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. He pulls away after a few moments, yet lingers in your space and sends heat rushing through your veins.

"I suppose I could still smear sauce all over you." You tease, your arousal making you even more daring and flirtatious.

"Just askin' fer trouble with tha'." He growls, pulling you flush against his body as he pulls his lip between his teeth.

"Oh no... how terrible." 

One hand moves in a flash, slapping lightly and groping at your ass as Johnny rubs himself against you. "Ye won't be saying that when yer arse is red raw." He groans in your ear. 

"You wouldn't be spanking me when I'm too busy licking the sauce off your face." You giggle, squirming under his touch. Brattiness isn't your usual go-to around Johnny, but sometimes he just inspires it.

"Dirty fuckin' pup." He growls, his voice almost feral and animalistic in the way it rips from his throat.

He holds your gaze, commanding you with just a look as he removes his hands and leans to the counter. He returns with the jar, popping open the lid with ease before offering it to you. 

"Go awn then." He commands, his expression serious as he urges the jar closer to you. 

You glance between him and the jar, uncertain of what he's asking for a moment before the realisation hits—he's making you cover him in the sauce.  

The moment stretches on in the heavy silence, as Johnny stares you down with an expectant look, waiting for you to comply. You timidly dip your finger into the sauce, hand trembling as you move to swipe it across Johnny's cheek. You assume he's going to messily return the favour, but he just continues to hold your gaze. 

"Now lick it." He whispers, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

You can't help but comply, pushing yourself up close to his face and darting out your tongue just enough to clean his stubbled cheek. 

It's then he grips you again, stilling you in place as you're draped across his body. "Good fucking girl." He purrs, and then returns the favour—gripping your cheek with one hand and smearing your face with sauce with the other. 

Then he licks you, long tongue trailing slowly up your cheek and leaving you wet and squirming. 

"Johnny, ew!" You giggle wildly, almost feeling tickled by his tongue against your skin. 

"Ew? Really, lass? Won't be saying tha' later when it's my tongue in yer cunt." He makes sure his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he continues to tease you with his words. "Won't be sayin' tha' later when I have ye slobbering all over my cock."

He punctuates the last sentence by pulling you tight against him once more, making you feel the weight of his throbbing cock against you. You find your self-control rapidly slipping once more, especially when his lips dip to press kisses to the bare expense of your neck.

"Mercy, please." You squeal, attempting to wiggle free from his hold. "Otherwise, we might have to abandon the pizzas."

Luckily, Johnny is feeling kind as he pulls away and gives you space—yet the glint in his eye remains. 

"Mercy, for now."

You and Johnny try your best to focus on making the pizzas without further incident—listening to early 2000s pop punk and exchanging little bits and pieces of conversation. He informs you that his Captain's house is more in the countryside and has a proper brick pizza oven in the garden that gets used precisely once a year when he throws a birthday party for Gaz.  

It makes you chuckle how Johnny seems to enthuse about how much better the pizzas are when they aren't made in his "shitty little electric oven". It also makes your heart swell when Johnny mentions how Gaz's birthday is just around the corner, and that you have to come with him to the party. 

When Johnny pulls your pizzas from the oven, you're surprised to see they both managed to cook well despite the pile of toppings and cheese.

The two of you eat your gooey pizzas as you curl up on the couch and watch an episode of Midsomer Murders. Admittedly, you'd been sceptical at first, and a little confused as to why a man in his late 20s was so into a show you watched growing up with your aunt. Then you heard his enthusiasm for solving the cases, and couldn't bring yourself to care about the slightly amateurish acting or the way the theme tune reminded you of the smell of her house. 

When you realise halfway through that you're pretty sure Johnny's guesswork about the case is wrong, you feel your puppy love grow at least ten sizes, and say nothing as you watch the misguided enthusiasm and smugness sparkle in his eyes.

After a second episode finishes, you ready yourself to head back to the kitchen with the plates but find yourself stilled as Johnny grabs your wrist.

"Do you not want help with the dishes?" You ask, head tilted slightly in confusion.

"Maybe later." Johnny pulls you back down onto the couch before fixing you with a look that makes your cheeks flush. His hand finds its way to your face, cupping your burning skin as his thumb traces over your lips with intent.

"Oh, later, I see." You can't help but smile, and Johnny's thumb chases the newfound curve of your lips. 

A lustful fire ignites in the pit of your stomach as you watch Johnny's eyes fixate on your lips, and you notice his pupils are blooming with arousal. 

It's instinctual and automatic, the way you feel your body call out to connect with Johnny's once more, and you give in to the magnetic pull as you climb into his lap and settle atop him. Your hands curl around the thick column of the back of his neck, steadying yourself as you squirm around to get comfortable.

Johnny's large hands cling to your hips—a warning grip stilling you as his cock stirs to life underneath your core and pushes harsh denim against the soft cotton of your panties. 

"Bonnie." The word is growled, yet wrapped in playfulness, as his eyes flare with warning and his fingers continue to dig into the plush of your hips.

"Yes?" You coo innocently. 

"Careful now." 

"I just want to kiss you." You whine, while resisting the urge to grind down on Johnny's length. Instead, your lips fall to kiss his stubbled jaw, and the protruding veins on the side of his neck. "Can't get enough of you." 

Your own words break the dam of your self-restraint, as you give in to your urges and chase the bolts of pleasure that course through you, nudging your clit back and forth against the cock you crave so badly. 

"Neither can I." He whispers brusquely, the words sounding throatier as you continue to kiss him and writhe against him. His hands guide your hips along your path, each thrust earning you a growl from deep within his chest. "Ye drive me mad, steamin' fuckin' jesus." 

Your hips continue to writhe on instinct, addicted to the feeling of rocking on Johnny's bulge and the way the sensation ebbs at consciousness and makes your brain cottony around the edges. You nuzzle into Johnny's neck, seeking comfort and closeness as you continue to slip deeper and deeper.

"Johnny, I'm going crazy, I need you." Your words are whined against his skin, desperate pleas appealing to his baser instincts, practically begging him to just give in and take you already. The impulsive voice in the back of your head chants his name over and over again, as it always does. 

This time it's stronger, overwhelmingly so, as you're wrapped in his arms and able to melt into his touch. 

"Ya have me, pet." He whispers—holding you close, nuzzling you back, and pressing the gentlest of kisses to the top of your head. "'m all yours." 

Johnny continues working his hips up into your core, meeting you thrust for thrust and grind for grind. The sensation of your bodies meeting draws groans from his throat, each erratic connection making you both tremble.

Your eyes meet, an intense connection as Johnny's eyes search yours—him seeming to read every little flicker of emotion within them. Whatever he sees there spurs him into action, as he repositions his grip and redirects you—widening his legs before he pushes you down against his thick, denim-clad thigh.

"Tha's better." He sighs, immediately moving your hips again for you, rubbing your pussy across his muscle and giving you much-needed contact.

You find your rhythm quickly, working with Johnny to build delicious friction—the heightened sensations and connection have you overly sensitive, your blood fizzing all over your body just at being able to grind against Johnny. You know he's going to ruin you when things really start to escalate. You also know you're not going to last long at all.

"Humping my thigh like a good pup." Johnny groans as he buries himself into the crook of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin—you tilt your head to accommodate him getting access to wherever his mouth pleases. 

"Gonna leave a wet spot." You feel the way your wet panties are clinging to your folds and know some of your arousal is leaking through to the denim beneath. 

Johnny growls, his thigh pushing up to meet you more firmly, as if begging to be soiled further. "Go awn, soak ma jeans." 

"Johnny..." 

"Sound so pretty whinin' fer me, whimperin'." He purrs straight into your ear, making your back arch as your skin tingles all over. "Gonna bark for me?" 

You quickly shake your head before hiding in Johnny's chest, cheeks ablaze. "'m shy." You whisper, hoping said reservedness won't disappoint him. 

One of Johnny's hands makes its way up your body, stopping to stroke the top of your head soothingly. "It's okay, pup, it'll come." He reassures you, not let down in the slightest. "Jus' keep grinding."

Your hips move with renewed fervour, chasing the rapidly building high that twists and coils in your stomach. Pleasure radiates out from your core, flowing through your veins and clouding your brain—refocusing yourself entirely on being good for Johnny.

"Feels good?" Johnny asks in response to your escalating whines and moans. "Use yer words for me."

Words are hard to form when your throat is so tightened and your mind so blissed out, but you have to obey. Each thrust pushes you closer and closer to the edge, closer to your reward. The tension between you and Johnny has been building for so long, with your need rapidly spiralling from the moment the two of you first started talking.

You need the release, need to cum under Johnny's touch and command—finally let him into your mind where his commands will make their home. As your thighs tremble around Johnny's, you force yourself to summon the strength to lift your head, to use your words just like Johnny had asked. 

"Feels good, so close." You admit, voice not above a whisper as you get hypnotised by the sparkling blue eyes that are hidden by hooded lids. 

Johnny is looking at you like he's going to devour you, and all you've done so far is rub your slick cunt all over his thigh. You shiver with the thought of just how much more intensity can build between you—you wonder how you're going to survive it.  

"Needy pup, want ye tae cum fer me. Jus' fer me." One of Johnny's hands now cups your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes locked onto his as you continue to writhe wildly against him.

His words push you so much closer, your brain waiting for his word as you try your hardest to not cum even a second before he tells you too. 

"Can ye do that, pet?" 

You nod mindlessly as your body goes into overdrive, the pressure making your body coil tighter as your brain finally fizzles out of any coherent thought. All you can do is keep your eyes fixed on Johnny, as you replay his words over and over in your head. 

Pet. Pup. Hump. Whine. 

Operating entirely on instinct, your mouth falls open, tongue lolling out as you pant and whine—right on the edge, waiting. As if in your thoughts, Johnny senses that you're right at the edge, as his thigh tenses to be the perfect surface for you to rub against, and his hand forces your cunt down even more snugly before. 

"Pretty pup, tha's it." He coos, voice dripping with sweet, gentle authority. "Cum fer me."

With his command finally whispered, you buck one more and fly over the edge, straight into the ecstasy of a blinding orgasm—one that's weeks in the making. 

Johnny continues to coax you through it, whispered praise and encouragement accompanying every little aftershock until you practically collapse against his chest. 

"Oh my god, that was..." You struggle to breathe, still struggle to think as you sink into Johnny's embrace. "I needed that, thank you."

Soft touches adorn every inch of your body, Johnny petting you sweetly and embracing the sensitivity of your skin in the afterglow. "My pleasure. Ye were such a good girl fer me." 

"Sorry about your jeans. And you not—"

Johnny doesn't let you finish your unnecessary apologies. "Dinnae be." 

He pulls you even closer, arms wrapping around your waist and back and holding you in a tight, reassuring embrace as the both of you come back down to normalcy. You can practically feel the smile on Johnny's lips with every kiss against your forehead, and his unbridled joy is still radiating off of him when you finally lean up to reconnect your lips with his. 

After a few sweet pecks, you find yourself burrowing back into his chest as you try to suppress a yawn. 

"Tired, bonnie?" Johnny asks, voice quiet. 

You respond simply with a gentle nod.

"Let's get you to bed, then." He chuckles, tapping the backs of your thighs to encourage you to stand. 

You can't help but whine just a little, entirely resistant to moving even if Johnny's bed is only a short walk away. "It's too early to sleep." You try to reason, even if you have no clue of the time.

Johnny presses another kiss to your forehead—his smirk cheeky and eyes bright. "Who said we'd be sleeping?" 

With assistance from Johnny, you sleepily stumble to his bedroom and immediately plop yourself down on the edge of the mattress while Johnny fetches your forgotten bags from the entryway. 

Your orgasm has left you a little boneless and ignited an even stronger craving for connection with Johnny. He parts from you for even a moment, and your body calls out to be cuddled up with him again.

Luckily, he returns quickly, setting the bag down beside you so you can sleepily rifle through the bag for your pyjamas.

When you finally locate the silky set, you urge yourself off the bed and head for the bathroom. Johnny stops you by the wrists before you can reach the door. 

"Where are ye going?" He asks, an adorable look of confusion on his face. 

"To get changed." You explain, trying to stop your voice from trembling with nerves. Despite just cumming on this man's thigh, there's something startling about the vulnerability of changing before him that makes your walls shoot up and your body stiffen. 

Johnny's thumb runs over your wrist, as his expression softens, and he releases his hold.

"'s okay." He nods, turning to grab his own pyjama bottoms and beating you out of the door to the bathroom, leaving you in the comfort of his room. "Shout me when yer done, aye?"

The door clicks shut behind Johnny, as your heart fills with warmth at his easy and sweet accommodation of you. 

You slip off your dress first, folding it semi-neatly and slipping into the bag before you opt to slip off your panties too—they're still soaked through from your earlier activities and were clinging to your folds almost uncomfortably. You quickly shimmy on the matching silk set—cute shorts with a cami top, as you try to remember the confidence you felt when trying the set on.

You call out to Johnny, beckoning him back into the room and hoping his reaction to your outfit is everything you could hope for.

When Johnny slips round the door, his eyes almost jump out of his head—though you're sure yours are doing the same. "Fuckin' christ, bonnie." 

Your eyes rake down Johnny's body just as he does you—his chest is bare, and his plaid pyjama bottoms are slung low on his hips. You can't tear your eyes away, as they dart around taking in every little feature—the broad muscles, slight dusting of hair, or constellation of scars and freckles all down his torso. It's hard to decide which part of him is the most delicious, the most deserving of your eyes' attention. 

"Christ yourself." You whisper, completely in awe. 

Johnny steps forward, taking your hands in his and pulling you into his warmth. His smile is adoring, his eyes showing nothing but reverence as he takes in every detail of you—you wonder if he's recognised just what you've done. 

"You look so good, I wanna eat you." His words are purred into your neck as he presses kisses along your skin, and his hands slip all over your silky skin and barely-there clothes. His hands find their way to the hem of your top, pausing slightly as if asking for consent. 

"Johnny..." You whine as you turn your head nervously, shielding your embarrassed expression from view and desperately hoping you don't have to explain yourself further. 

He cups your jaw tenderly, without any intention of turning you to face him. His voice is just as considerate. "Nervous?" 

"I know it's silly, but..." You trail off, unable to finish your sentence. 

I'm scared you won't like what you see. 

I'm scared you'll leave once you get what you want. 

I'm scared I won't compare to what you imagined, to what you deserve. 

Johnny can sense it all, or at least some of it—as his eyes briefly flare with intense worry. He pulls away before you can ask, flicking the light switch and plunging you both into inky darkness—the room only illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. 

"How's this, hen?" He asks, finding his way back to you.

Somehow, the barely-there lighting of the room feels like a safety blanket—a joyous hiding-in-the-pillow fort feeling, instead of being subjected to a spotlight that seems to amplify all your insecurities.

"Better." Your smile is genuine as you reposition atop the bed, pulling Johnny with you gently as you seek comfort. The two of you scramble up the bed, laying over the covers and facing each other—just inside each other's embrace. 

Johnny's handsome features are visible enough in the dim, with his easy smile still lighting up the room. "Will just have to feel ma way around... if tha's okay." 

"Touch but don't look, instead of the other way around." You laugh, the act releasing some of your pent-up worry. Your hand chases Johnny's, moving it from the bed to your body and encouraging him to touch you. "Sounds good to me." 

"That's ma girl. Ye feel fucking divine." He sighs his words into your skin, leaning forward for a kiss as his hand dips under the fabric of your top and rests on the curve of your waist. His thumb still appreciatively strokes across the satin of your pyjamas.

"I bought these just for you." You admit, voice a soft whisper. 

"Did ye pick the colour of my eyes on purpose, pet?" 

So he had noticed, you think. "Yeah..."

Johnny's easy expression falters for a moment, his usual confidence wavering in the face of such a heartfelt act. 

"Fuckin' christ." His hand squeezes at your side as he lets out a shaky sigh. "And as if I wasn't hard enough."

"Oh?" Your hand reaches out to rest on Johnny's chest, fingers raking down slightly on your path of exploration, headed straight for the waistband of his bottoms where your ignited curiosity is focused. 

Your fingers itch to feel his cock again, remembering how deliciously hard and huge he had felt under your touch in the café. This time, you could feel him without reservation, and experience exactly the effect you have on him without any barriers of material or propriety. 

His eyebrow arches at the action, and his eyes sparkle interest. "Bonnie, where's tha' hand going?"

"I wanna feel it, please." You whisper, accompanying your words with a teasing touch as you slip your thumb under the waistband and tug at the elastic. 

Another tremulous exhale passes his lips before he pulls the lower one between his teeth. "When ye beg like tha’, how can I say no?"

Your hand dives below his waistband as you eagerly wrap your hand around the satiny smooth skin of his cock—feeling the bulging veins and the way the tip leaks with sticky pre.

“Fuck.” You continue to explore his length, stroking slowly and reverently as you watch his face for his reactions—relishing in each quiver of his brows or flutter of his lashes. “Honestly, I don't know how I got this far without begging you to show it to me.”

He chuckles as his hips buck slightly to meet your touch, frenetic energy building inside of him. “Guess for now you’ll just have to keep feelin’. Make up fer lost time.”

“Johnny…” 

“Yes, puppy?”

You stroke down to the base, gripping it firmly for a moment as you speak. "There's no way you're fitting that inside me—" 

Johnny's eyes flare with ravenous need, his smile turning delightfully sinful before he devours your protests with a messy kiss—a hand gripping at your chin. 

"Shhh, I know that pretty cunny can take me." He purrs his words into your mouth, forcing you to practically swallow them and all of their intensity. "When the time comes, we'll go slow. I'll take care of ye, train my puppy to take me."

Your body squirms involuntarily, arousal and surrender washing over you in waves as Johnny's authoritative tone melts you back into a submissive headspace. 

"Your mouth is evil, Johnny." You whine and shiver. "You know what you do to me, right?" 

"I have an idea." He smirks, as the hand gripping your down trails down your neck and over your body before stopping at your waistband for permission. "Wouldnae mind more of one, though, if tha's okay." 

"Please."

It's impossible to hold back your gasp as Johnny's thick fingers finally slide in between your soaked folds and make contact with your sensitive clit. 

He swipes through your wetness repeatedly, dipping down to tease at your entrance before pulling more slick over your clit and swirling it easily with his fingers. You curl into him slightly, forehead falling against his as your legs fall apart, and you surrender to his touch. 

Each stroke feels electric, and your hips rise and fall to chase every little sensation you get from the way he explores you. You find your eyes drifting shut from the pleasure, and the need to shield yourself from the intensity of his hungry stare. 

"Fuck, drippin' fer me." His voice is lower, coming from deeper in his chest, as you feel his dick throb. He's stopped rutting into your hand, instead focused entirely on you.

"... When I got home after our date, I was soaked right through." You admit, voice shaky and unsteady and wracked with pleasure. The glow radiates outwards from your core, coiling in your stomach. Despite your earlier release, your need is still overwhelming—Johnny's touch feeling better than anything you've felt in so long.

"Always makin' a mess. Making a mess on ma fingers right now."

"I can't help it." You whimper helplessly, and even more so when Johnny's fingers withdraw from your folds and leave your cunt aching for him. 

Your eyes fly open in time to watch him take the soaked digits in his mouth, cleaning your mess off of them with his tongue as he gives you an intense, unwavering look that makes your cheeks blaze.

"Taste heavenly, bonnie. Think I need more of a taste, though." He grins, his eyes raging with a hunger that makes your stomach flip.

"Fuck," You sigh, wanting his mouth on you and yet feeling a sense of guilt for even thinking about letting him. "I... I should get you off first." 

You return to stroking his length, your movements having stilled as he had focused on you, but his hand moves to grip your wrist—stilling it in its tracks. 

"Lass, if you give me the word, there's nothin' coming between me and eating tha' kitty of yours. Not even my own cock." 

The certainty in his tone and his look almost have you convinced, but that niggle of insecurity and worry still lingers in the back of your mind, urging you to deny yourself of the pleasures Johnny can give you.

"I don't usually..." You trail off, struggling to finish your sentence. Part of you wants to say you don't let guys go down on you, but it's not like the last one even cared to offer.

You haven't even told Johnny any details, yet he seems enthusiastic enough to compensate for any of the experiences you've had in the past. 

His expression cycles through a myriad of emotions—confusion, sadness, and anger, before he settles on a soft yet determined look.

"Do you want me to go down on ye?" 

"Yes." Your answer slips out far too quickly, but the thought of his mouth on your cunt makes your head spin.

His hand returns to cup your cheek, stroking reassuringly as his eyes plead with you. "Then please, bonnie." 

You swallow, pushing away the voices in the back of your head as you nod, and Johnny scrambles down the bed. 

He pulls down your shorts and tosses them aside, before his arms wrap around your thighs to pull them apart. His lips quickly find their way to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, kissing and licking and biting ever so slightly as you squirm helplessly beneath him. 

His muscular arms keep your lower body exactly where he wants you, as his kisses move higher and higher before they press the outside of your folds and make you cry out. 

"Poor little neglected kitty." He coos, before pressing more kisses to your lips. 

"Johnny—"

"Shh." He interrupts you sharply yet playfully, looking up from between your legs and fixing you with a light-hearted glare. "Am making introductions." 

He refocuses his attention back on your cunt, a hand moving so he can stroke his thumb back and forth over your sensitive nub while he coos sweet nothings into your centre.

"Need someone to take care of ye? I'm a good owner, promise." He dives in and captures your clit in an open-mouthed kiss, sucking slightly before pulling off with a pop. "Know how tae play with ye just right."

It's overwhelming, the way he talks and the fact he's talking to your cunt like it's separate from you, and yet something he's just enamoured with. 

He starts eating you in earnest, tongue swiping up and down your folds, stubble rubbing against your skin—sweet, hot pleasure trickles through you with every little sensation, and you know you're not going to last long under Johnny's mouth.

"Fuck, can't wait to see ye properly. Pretty pussy, all fer me." 

He dives back in, all tongue and lips and slick, wet heat as he makes love to your clit and folds with his mouth—drawing out every whine and whimper you're capable of making. 

"Oh my god," You gasp, hand falling to his head so your fingers can tangle in his hair. "You're so good fucking with your tongue." 

When he pulls back to talk, his lips glisten with your arousal. "'m not just talk, bonnie. Think ye can take my fingers too?"

"Please, please." You beg, almost urging him back to your core as his fingers circle your entrance before slowly sinking in. 

The two digits stretch you slowly, getting you accustomed to the assault before his tongue is on your clit again, all of him working in tandem to make you shiver and squirm. Your cunt squelches with each thrust and lick, Johnny forcing more arousal to leak from your pretty hole as he lavishes you with attention and pleasure. 

"Such pretty sounds." He mumbles, though his eyes don't meet yours.

"Do you mean me or..." You swallow nervously, shyness overtaking you as you summon the words to address yourself. "...her?" 

"Both of ye." He growls, before feasting with renewed fervour. 

You've never had a man eat you like this in your life, as Johnny drinks your nectar like he needs it to survive, and caresses your insides with the most reverent touch. His has you completely undone beneath him, moaning loud enough to disturb the neighbours and racing towards your peak in record time.

Your legs shake against his hold, your hips naturally rising to meet his mouth as your pleasure builds and builds, pushing you ever further toward ecstasy. 

"I'm close." You whimper when the precipice arrives, and Johnny doesn't hold back in the slightest.

"Cum fer me." He mumbles, before sucking you over the edge. Your thighs squeeze and tremble around his head as you explode under his tongue and clench around his thick fingers. 

His attention doesn't wane until he's wrung every little bit of pleasure out of your quivering body. "Mhmmm. Good girl."

He presses one last kiss to your clit, bidding her goodbye before he gently slides your shorts back up your legs and joins you at the head of the bed.

"Fuck..."

The afterglow flows through you like lava in your veins, filling you with a warmth that only grows as Johnny strokes your face. 

"Can I kiss ye?" He asks, his lips hovering just a fraction from your own. 

"I need you to. I'll just ignore the taste of myself."

"Your loss."

He closes the distance, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, one so achingly sweet you pay no mind to the taste of yourself on your tongue. 

Johnny continues to caress your face as he deepens the kiss, making you breathless once more.

You find yourself having to turn away from the kiss to bury your head into the pillow as you stifle an overwhelming yawn. 

"Tired fer real now, sweetheart?" Johnny whispers, chasing you to press kisses to the side of your head. 

You turn back to face Johnny, noses almost brushing together as you give the slightest confirmatory nod. "'m a little sleepy." 

Johnny rushes to slide off the bed, throw back the covers, and position himself on his back. He pats his chest in invitation, smiling at you ever so sweetly. "Your pillow awaits. Non-negotiable, aye?" 

It takes a little bit of shuffling on both behalves to get you settled under the covers and snuggled up to the warmth and comfort that is Johnny's chest. Your cheek is pressed to his pec as your arm settles across his torso—he loops an arm around your back and pulls the other one over his body, holding the thigh that rests over his hips.

You cuddle in closer, relishing the way your bodies fit together, and the way his chest cradles your head so perfectly. "Mhm. Comfy pillow." 

"I'm glad—"

You interrupt him immediately, your hand coming up to smooth over his chest and squeeze appreciatively. 

"Shh." You whisper condescendingly, imitating Johnny's tone from earlier when he was between your legs. "I'm making introductions."

His chest rumbles with a laugh, as he lets you get well acquainted with his pecs. "Brat." 

Your eyes quickly slip shut, your hand stilling of any further movement. Johnny's voice is a sweet whisper from above you as you drift out of consciousness. 

"Sweet dreams, bonnie."

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“who’s pussy is this” while they’re absolutely destroying you