This Was Probably Done Already But It Was The First Thing That Came To Mind, Lololololol

This was probably done already but it was the first thing that came to mind, lololololol

DC vs Vampires #2 (2021)

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 (𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

part one

"This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be..."

To say that it hasn't hit König yet that he's married is the understatement of the year.

The man could barely believe his ears when you said yes. He was so damn excited he could hardly sit down afterward. You decided to put that energy to better use... in the bedroom.

König remembers the day, Schatzi. He remembers it down to the hour, minute, and second. He remembers looking in the bathroom mirror that morning and rehearsing his so-called speech. Poor guy was so nervous he had to set the ring down lest it fell down the drain.

He remembers the butterflies in his stomach, anxiety so strong that he could barely finish your delicious breakfast. ("What's wrong? You usually wolf down your food." "Ah, it's—it's n-nothing, Schatz!") You weren't convinced but decided to let it go. For the moment. And for that he was glad.

König remembers how preoccupied you were with washing the dishes. He was grateful for his training. He snuck up behind you to catch you unawares. He'll never forget when you turned and saw him down on one knee, a calloused hand holding out a ring. Your ring. He'll never forget the surprise on your face when the realization hit and the way your eyes widened and your lips parted in a silent 'oh'. The silence was deafening. mein Gott.

And you were shaking. Shaking just as much as he was. Shaking and light-headed and... and—oh damn, his speech! König was so tongue-tied he could barely form the words. Hell, he practically forgot what to say and so he settled for instinct, said the only words that filled his heart to the brim, and made each day better ("I love you. W-Will... Will you marry me, Schatz?").

And shit. Shitshitshitshit. You were practically a statue at this point. A shaking statue but still. Had he... had he overstepped? Did he overthink this? Oh shit. Did he... did he scare you away? Forever? Oh... oh no. Oh, this was a mistake wasn't it? Just... just say something, Schatzi. Say something so he'll know what to do next. Say yes. Say that you'll marry him. Please.

König stammers an apology, ready to stand and make himself invisible somehow but before he could do that you awkwardly blurt out a "NO—No, shut up and put the ring on my finger!" Oh. This... This is really happening? ("Schatz, you're—you're saying yes? You'll marry me?" "YES!")

He could barely put the ring on your finger he was trembling so hard. Emotions crashed down on König like waves and you practically jumped into the man's arms the moment you could. It came at the right moment, too. He thought his legs were about to give out on him. And so, you two were engaged.

It was cute the way his eyes would light up every time he saw the ring on your finger. It was cute when you'd turn and watch him watching you and oh, his cheeks are red!

You two never cared about extravagance. It was only you and a civil ceremony. And that's all that mattered. You'd tell the others later but for now, everything was you and König.

And yeah, he remembers the day down to the hour, minute, and second. He remembers the day you said yes and made his heart burst.

To say that it hasn't hit König yet that he's married is the understatement of the year...

...But damn if he wasn't the happiest man in the world right now.

Five reasons you’ve cried while pregnant

Simon Riley addition

1. It was just the beginning, three months of being pregnant, and Simon wasn’t prepared for the roller coaster of emotions.

“Honey! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Simon asked, in a panic.

This was the first time you’d been so emotional and you were too embarrassed to tell him what was wrong. “Nothing, it’s stupid.” You say staring at your sweet dog. Simon looks over at Biscuit who is happily wagging his tail, he’s confused, “Biscuit is just having such a great day! Look at him wag his tail!” You cry even harder while you pet him. Simon knew it would be a long few months after that.

2. Month five is when your cravings started, and you ate everything in sight that looked appealing. Simon had just made a casserole and you were already two bowls deep. He sees you frown as you finish the second bowl, “what, love?” He asks you, tears now rolling down your cheeks.

“I just ate two bowls, and I’m still hungry. I’m going to be so fat.” You sobbed. Simon gets up to grab you another bowl as you sob. He sighs and hands it to you as you still cry, “thank you,” you sniffled.

3. Simon and you were on your way to your 6-month check. The radio played quietly as you talked to him about your plans for the day. All of a sudden you stop talking as the tears start up, Simon sighs, “what’s wrong love?”

“I love this song,” you say quietly as tears fall.

4. Simon lays in bed next to you just returning from a short but tiring mission. All he wanted was some sleep. You follow him to bed, also wanting a nap but he fell asleep quickly leaving you to your thoughts alone. Felt lonely again.

Simon never sleeps deeply so he wakes to your quiet sniffling next to him and opens his eyes to see you staring at him. He raises an eyebrow waiting for an explanation, “you fell asleep before me so I got lonely.” You tell him cuddling closer to him

5. You stood at the pet store looking for Biscuits dog food when you suddenly got distracted by the adoption center, they had so many cats ready to be adopted but you saw one, she was blind in one eye and she was young.

You could feel your tears start to slip when you pulled out your phone, Simon answers immediately while still in his meeting, “what’s wrong sweetheart?” He asks, in a panic while he leaves the meeting room.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting.” You cry, Simon knows it’s your hormonal breakdown by the way you whimpered.

“It’s okay love,” he says as he looks into the room full of his teams who all stare at him waiting to see if things are okay.

“I was at the pet store and I saw this kitty. She’s blind in one eye and she’s so little and sad and I want her.” You cry quietly.

Simon sighs into the phone, “One. Get one cat. We don’t run a zoo.” He says making his teammates chuckle. They quickly silence themselves when Simon shoots them a glare.

He hears you squeal in excitement making him smile under his mask, “thank you!” You say hanging up.

TWST Incorrect quotes#316 ...hE GOT the spIRIT

Lilia: Human’s like it when you’re mysterious~

Mal: Okay, got it

Later

Yuu: How’s your day been Mal-Mal?~*Smiles at him*

Mal: None of your goddamn business

EVEN more later...

Mal*Hidding under his blankets*...I made my human sad-

Lili:...Your just little confused but you got the spirit!~*Is trying to get him our with icecream,gargoyles and a plushie that looks like you*

...He really do be tryin-

Hi honey! I don't know if u r taking requests right now but if you do I have one. Can you make a standalone where Ghost and F/reader are together for like 1/2 year(s) and she is always like really nervous around Ghost and can't look him in the eye for too long because she is really shy and Ghost kind of like the effect he has on her. Something along that way :)

Thank you so much and have a great day!!🤍

ɞ - 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑠

𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 "𝑔𝚑𝑜𝑠𝑡" 𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠- 𝚑𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑? 𝑔𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ( 𝑖 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑚𝑏 𝑖𝑓 𝑛𝑜𝑡) 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎?? 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑙

𝑤𝑐: 830

𝑎/𝑛: 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑞!!!! 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑜𝑙 𝑖 𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑏𝑚𝑏. 𝚑𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡𝚑𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𖠌

anyone would be nervous if a 6’4 buff military man locked eyes with you. right? possibly- but does knowing him for 4 years make it any better? does dating for two of those years help? nope. looking this hunk of a guy in the eyes didn’t get any less nerving, even after knowing him for so long.

the way he trapped you under your gaze made you nervous. it made your fingers drum against your cargo pants -it made your heavy boots tap on the concrete. he must know, he gave it away by the way he held his stare- not daring to look away. he knew it made you nervous- he knew it made you weak in the knees. maybe if you could look him in the eyes for longer, you’d see the glimmer in them when your eyes drifted down and your face went hot.

the first time he noticed- it was a team briefing. you were sat across from him, he was looking at you- as always- and he began to zone out. he admired your face- your beauty. the way you chewed on your cheek in concentration as you listened carefully to the orders price was giving out . he was lucky to have someone like you in his life. someone to trust, someone to kiss, someone to hug.

at first- he didn’t notice he was staring at you. but when price slammed something onto the table - most likely harder than he intended to - it snapped him out of his trace. he was confused- to say the least- he didn’t understand the ways your eyes were darting all over the place… until he did.

your fingers - which were resting against the table - were fighting against each other and your knee was bouncing at a particular pace. he knew it was yours- the table was rocking and soap - who was sitting on his right -  was completely still. as for gaz, he was sat, on a chair, away from the table, why? god knows - but that left you.

 he understood now- you were nervous. why? because you were caught under his gaze.

that moment, he was thankful for the mask. it hid the smirk on his face. well- not that you could look for long enough to see it. he was still staring at you- he realised. maybe he should stop. let you focus. so he, thoughtfully, looked away- though not before taking one last glance, just for fun.

the second time, he’d actually forgotten. you were all cramped into a little plane, on the route to a mission. soap was squashed up beside you, practically locking you into the wall. ghost, however, was facing you, the tip of his boots pressed against yours. he was looking at soap, who was waffling about god knows what- it was always hard to keep up with what the scot was saying.

you- were also listening. just not so intensely. you didn’t bother to turn your body to look at soap, you couldn’t, he had you trapped against the wall. so, you had to look straight ahead. right at ghost.

you did your best to avoid his eyes. you stared at the wall of the plane, his vest, the badge on his jacket - hell even his gun. but you found yourself staring back into his eyes. you loved his eyes- you did, even if it didn’t seem like it. you loved the way they sparkled in the sunlight- the way they lit up when you walked into a room. but you just couldn’t maintain eye contact.

he tried to listen to soap- for a change - he really did, but eventually, the man became a buzzing in his ears. so he turned his attention back to you. as soon as his eyes began to move, so did yours. you looked away as quickly as possible- deciding the marks on the floor were much more interesting to look at.

ghost, although hidden by the mask, raised an eyebrow at this. again, he didn’t understand why. he racked his brain for the memory or the reason. oh. right.

the corners of his lips perked up, and he kicked his foot against your boot. he watched your eyebrows furrow, and your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip. he kicked again, and again until you were forced to look at him. he was having far too much fun for a man about to head onto the battlefield.

you- on the other hand. god, this was the furthest thing from fun you could imagine. he was your boyfriend for christ’s sake. you hoped he would never notice. the height difference between you two always meant you stared directly at his chest and you almost always sat next to him. maybe you cold try look at him, just once more.

so the next minute- you were staring right into his eyes. maybe a couple of seconds passed, you could already feel your face getting hot, your fingers start to twitch against your knee. fuck sake. you caved in again, looking away. 

and you swear you heard the faintest sound of a deep chuckle come from him.

that love is ours to make.

18+ MDNI NSFW. smut. p in v sex. oral. fingering. exhusband!Price. slight angst. a tiny tiny bit of dad!Price.

note - this is my first ever time writing smut, not sure how i feel about it so a pre-warning that this may not be the best you’ve ever read! barely proof-read too. might/might not write other parts around this.

lord, just let captain john price fuck me on a table.

tag list: @mirthlxss

You were met with the sound of clashing pots as you reached the bottom of the stairs. Wandering aimlessly back into the kitchen, where you had previously left the last of your guests.

Your ex-husband.

“He’s out like a light.” You said, flashing a baby monitor screen in his direction; the image of your sleeping son sound asleep cuddled into his cot.

John turned to you from his place at the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grinning at the screen. “Not surprised, bet today’s took it out of him.”

You scanned around your now neatened up kitchen, the one that was drowning in piles of plates and bowls, empty wrappers and clumps of birthday cake, when you left it.

“Thanks for tidying, you didn’t have to.” Setting the monitor down on the counter, leaning against it as you did so.

“Least I can do.” He smiled.

You watched him as he placed the last of the bowls onto the draining rack, noticing how he squeezed the sponge out of any excess water - something you used to mildly scold him for when he never used to do it.

It had been a while since you last seen him so domesticated, so comfortable.

The divorce was finalised over a year ago, you were separated eight months before that. A lengthy, unpleasant process to say the least. But John made sure it went as smoothly as it could go.

For the sake of you and your boy.

Divorce was the last thing he wanted, but it’s what you wanted - and he felt obligated to give you exactly that. After all, you gave him four years of being his wife and three years prior, not to mention being the mother of his child.

It’s more that he thought he ever deserved, and expected.

“John?”

“Yeah, love?” Love - came so naturally off his tongue, like a muscle memory. His favourite. He pulled his attention to you, eyes softening at the sight.

“I’m glad you could be here, today.”

“Wouldn’t wanna miss my lad turning two.” He chuckled. “Need to make up for missin’ the first one, anyway.”

And just like that.

His demeanour instantly switched, any tranquility and nonchalance had faded. Like the man you walked in to, had transported out the room, leaving just a shell in his place.

You physically saw the repentant creep up inside of him, his eyes dropped from yours, his teeth toying at the inside of his lips. Thoughts ticking away at him, one’s you wish you could comfort him from - that you tried to comfort him from for so many years before.

Talk to me. Look at me. Stop bloody thinking.

But daren’t let you. He wouldn’t let you carry the burden, he believed marrying him was a big enough one alone.

You hated the sight of him internally beating himself up, it cut something deep in your chest. He was a proud man, vulnerability was something that didn’t come easy for him, but you could read him like a book.

Words didn’t leave your mouth, you just made your way over to him placing yourself in front of him, leaving a few inches between you both. Your hand comfortingly found the space between his neck and his shoulder, softly stroking your thumb against the fabric of his shirt.

“He’s lucky to have you, John.”

His gaze flickered to you, his baby blues fixing into yours. A saddened, half-hearted smile formed, not giving off much reassurance. Not even trying to.

“Likewise, love.” He took your hand off his shoulder and bought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Your heart ached but your soul smiled, feeling his touch enlivened something in you that you thought was dead and buried.

A heat, a yearning.

He kept your hand in front of his mouth momentarily. Glued to you, like he was waiting. Little did he know, you were waiting with him.

But like tomorrow, it never actually came.

His hand lowered yours back to your side, a silence that was once comfortable became strained, the air becoming so thick with anticipation and need.

“I should get off, it’s gettin’ late.” With a gentle voice and small smile. He shifted, beginning to make his way past you towards the door.

You felt a sense of disappointment, an anticlimax of sorts. That was until your mouth and body moved quicker than your mind could catch up.

You softly touched his forearm, halting him before he could move any further. “Don’t. Don’t go.”

He span to you, confounded by your words. Face unreadable. He stared at you briefly, before sighing, turning his back towards you and headed for the door.

Your heart dropped. Teeth finding your lip, as if it was your body’s way of telling you to not say anything more. Embarrassment began filling your veins, self-consciousness beginning to send you in to a panic.

His back only got closer to the door, bracing yourself to be left lonesome in your kitchen.

Except he closed the door. Leaving it slight ajar - the squeak of it as he did so. Before hastily making his way back to you, raising his hands to your head, cradling and caressing your cheeks.

His lips found yours, surprising you as they did. The taste of earth and tobacco, pulling you in and melting you in to a puddle.

Needy, sloppy, ravenous.

He moved, taking you with him. Your hands working around his body, tugging his hair, his top, the waist of his jeans.

Your back was pinned against your fridge, trapping you. Even though you didn’t think it was physically possible, he pressed himself closer into you. Helping you feel all of him.

His - already - hard cock pushed against your abdomen, his jeans restricting him. You kissed a moan into his mouth, an intensity forming between your legs.

He moved his hands down to your blouse, breaking the kiss to tug it over your head, leaving you in a pretty pink bra. The sight of you earned an amused grunt from him, before he was back on you like he was running out of time.

He connected back to you, arms hoisting you up, your face levelling with his. The kiss turning to quick, soft pecks.

He set you down on the solid wood of your table, pulling from you and taking a step back in the process.

“Lie.” Demanding, firm. His voice rang through your ears.

And you did as he told.

Your body winced at the coldness of the surface on your bare back. Fingers fumbled, pulling down the zip of your jeans before he was pulling them off you, revealing your matching panties.

He huffed. “Cute.” Tone laced with mirth, a smirk threatening to upturn his lips.

You tutted as your hand playfully tapped his forearm, gently chastising him.

Before you knew it, your jeans and panties were scattered around your kitchen and you were lay exposed beneath John.

He’s seen sights like this before, women spread before him. Those he’d take home, with a liver full of scotch and a mind craving a distraction before he spiralled.

And he’d fuck them, usually with their faces turned away from him. If they weren’t, he’d bury his face into the mattress, trying not to inhale them as he did. No matter who he escorted home, no matter how many similarities they had to you.

The perfume was never right, their shampooed hair was never right, the sweat from their pores was never right.

Because you were his only right, and he was always so incredibly wrong.

And then seeing you, legs apart, waiting for him to devour you, lit something that had been dark in him for so long. Like you were his favourite lighter, one he lost - yet he found you, accidentally.

He planted soft kisses from the inside your knee to your thigh, the smell of your scented moisturiser sending him down a path of reminiscence.

He knelt, like an act of worship, with his eyes pinned to yours.

“John.” You moaned, voiced dripping with beseech. Your feet found their place on this shoulders, drawing his face towards your sex.

You felt the warmness of his breath against your pussy. The prickle of his beard, against the bareness of your arse.

So close to the place where you needed him most.

Your hips jolted at the sensation of two of his fingers parting your folds, beginning to fuck in to you.

“Still get so wet for me, don’t you darlin’?.” His voice thick and full of tease - you heard the smirk plastered on his face. “Even after all this time, ay.”

You felt a touch of embarrassment. The fact your body still got so worked up at the sight and touch of someone you filed from divorce from filled you with shame. “Shut the fu—”

The suddenness of his tongue working slick against your clit, choked you on your words. A blend of profanities and praise, taking its place.

It’s became rhythmic, his fingers and his tongue alternating between your hole and your clit - launching you in to a perfect frenzy.

He’s feasting on you, inhaling every ounce of you, he’s covered in you. The way you clench you clench at his hair when his fingers curl inside of you, and it feels that fucking good, that your eyelids flicker.

It only makes him more determined to push you to your edge, until you breath out five short words —

“Want you to fuck me.”

And it pulls him from his trance, he gorps at you for a moment. Taking in and swilling the words around his mind like it’s scotch in his mouth.

“You sure, love?” He questioned, peering at you.

No, not in the slightest—

“Yes. Fuck me, John. Make love to me.”

Within an instant, he’s on his feet. Looking down at you, lay in front of him, legs wide; presenting your glistening pussy like a prize.

His lips and beard are glossy, smothered in your wetness. He licks his lips, tasting you some more.

He grabbed your calf’s, pulling you towards him, the texture of denim hitting your already sensitive cunt.

You perch up on your elbows, setting your sight of his throbbing cock outside of his jeans. You automatically edge yourself closer to it, to him. Practically begging for him inside of you.

He held his length, shifting himself closer between your legs. He placed his tip at your entrance, before pushing himself balls deep in you. Slow, unrushed, leisurely.

Like a fucking glove. A mould made just for each other.

You admire the vision of his dick slipping in and out of you, sopping, the way it lights a part of your brain up.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” He grunted. “C’mere. Sit up.”

You comply. Your face to face with his chest. He cradled his hands around the sides of your head, pulling his forehead to rest on yours. Your hands finding the nape of his neck.

His pounding got deeper, his tip bouncing off your cervix, the pressure being felt in your stomach forcing your eyes to tighten shut.

“F-fuck. Oh my—“

“Look at me. Love, look at me.” Another order, but this time his voice wasn’t laced with authority. He said it softly, like it was a plead.

Your eyes fluttering open to meet his, turned him feral.

Everything was like a drug to him; the way you looked, smelt, sounded, your silky smooth pussy wrapped around him.

And he was high as a fucking kite.

His pace increased, audible wet noises and his balls slapping off your arse between the mutters, grunts and moans.

Each time he fucked himself into you, he would pull you closer. Making sure you was as near to him, and he was buried in you, as much as physically possible.

“Feels so—fucking good.” The whine in your voice only egged him on further.

He stared into your soul, clinging to you with each rapid thrust. He always enjoyed seeing you like this, melting, shattering because of him.

A pool of pleasure was flooding into your stomach, the consistent motion of his cock dragging you towards your sweet end. It built like a pressure cooker.

“J-John, keep going like that. Fuck—p-please.”

And he did. He worked and worked you, until you pinched at his neck, tightened your legs and your cunt pulsated around him.

You tried to muffle your cries out into his shoulder, breaking away from his baby blues. His hips only slowed, refusing to part with you, driving you to dizziness as he carried on pushing himself inside your sensitivity.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Could watch you cummin’ all day.” His lips pecked from your temple down to you neck as you fell apart against him. “Lie back again for me will you?”

Your back hit the cold wood once again. He pulled himself out, hand stoking the remnants of your dripping pussy around his cock some more.

“Want me to cum all over you, eh pet?”

You nodded. “Cover me.”

His hand toiled himself to his orgasm, releasing himself alongside a symphony of grunts onto your lower stomach, like his own little artwork.

His body bent over you, his arm steadying him beside your waist. “Bloody hell.”

He placed a singular kiss to your knee, both of your highs subsiding - one that you craved so intensely just a short while ago. Silence filled around you, only your rapid, staggering breaths could be heard.

You both remained like that momentarily, as you returned to earth. John’s eyes flickering around you, yours stared up at the dimmed spotlights located over your head - avoiding meeting his.

You’d be lying if you didn’t feel a tinge of regret, not from the action of letting John fuck you, but the worry of what may result from it.

Yours and John’s co-parenting relationship was at the best it had ever been, and you couldn’t help but stew on the fact that you may have just took ten steps back.

“I’ll go get ya a towel.”

“If you don’t mind.”