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norrisjpg · 11 days ago

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─── ★ prologue

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series: my kind of woman, LN⁴

content: max being overprotective, mentions of unhealthy relationships, coffee dates

pairing: lando norris x fem!oc

rora's thoughts: hi hi hi lovlies! i decided to keep the prologue short and sweet, just so you can get the idea of lily's dynamic with everyone (excluding lando, of course, that's for next time), and understand her personality and all. i really hope you enjoy reading this, and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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THE BRITISH SUMMER time wasn’t usually the warmest. typically, it was filled with chilly breezes and cloudy days pretending to be a heatwave for the country. the atmosphere was brimming with floating pollen and the promise of a clear sky that never seemed to be fully fulfilled. but the best time of the day was arguably six o’clock, morning or evening.

lily was on the balcony of her london apartment, the quadrant hoodie that max had gifted her for christmas last year wrapped around her torso. her legs were tucked up to her chest, chin resting on her knees as she watched the sunrise flood in over the city. the book she’d been reading for the past half an hour or so was carefully placed on the minuscule wooden table next to the beanbag she resided on. stray hairs cascaded out of the low bun her hair was squeezed into, tickling the back of her neck every time she moved, but she didn’t mind, lily was too engrossed in the orange and red hues painted on the horizon.

there was a second beanbag next to her. it was empty. the only other person who had ever sat on that seat was pietra, she was the only person who’d watch the sun rise or set with her, usually with an orange juice or glass of wine in her grasp.

“good morning,” max mumbled as he leant against the frame of the sliding doors, rubbing his eyes as he spoke to his sister. “what are you doing up so early?”

“watching the sunrise, as usual.” she said quietly to her older brother, glancing at him briefly. “sorry if i woke you.”

“woke me? you’re as quiet as a mouse, el.” the older fewtrell laughed softly, running a hand through his dishevelled mullet.

“what are your plans for today?” she rolled her eyes, with a laugh.

“i’m heading out for lunch with some of the quadrant lot, if you want to join us?”

“sorry, i’ve got plans with harry today, max.” lily pursed her lips, a slightly guilty expression present on her features. “i’ll try and come next time though, yeah?”

“harry?” max furrowed his eyebrows, perking up a little at the mention of the man. “you’re still going out with him?”

“oh, give it a rest.” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she now looked at her older brother, his overprotective side clearly engaging at the mention of the boy from cambridge. “he’s lovely, you’re just too protective of me.”

“and i have a right to be.” he nodded, reaching forward and ruffling lily’s hair. “you’re still my baby sister, i don’t want you getting hurt by some knob who thinks he knows what’s best for you.”

“well it’s a good job that he’s not a knob then, isn’t it?” lily replied, slapping his hand away with no real force. “anyway, how long are you planning on staying for?”

“lando gets back on wednesday, so i’ll probably head back up then.” the boy nodded. “you can come with me if you want?”

“i can’t, book launch event on thursday evening, sorry.”

“it’s fine, at least i won’t have to watch lando drool over you again.” max laughed, referring to the holiday they went on last year, where the mclaren driver was thirsting over the woman in secret, max only finding out after ed accidentally let it slip to his best friend.

“get a life, max.” the girl rolled her eyes, grabbing her book and standing up. “and even if he was, which he wasn’t, you wouldn’t let the poor lad near me anyway.”

“because i know lando, and that boy is not ready to settle down, and i don’t want him breaking your heart.” max pursed his lips, sighing softly.

“i can handle myself, you know? i’m not a kid anymore, max.”

“yeah, and i’m going to be back racing next month.”

• • • •

AT AROUND lunch time, the sun was blaring down in london, casting picturesque shadows on the pavement as she walked through the city streets. harry and lily had arranged to meet at this adorable cafe, cozy and a relief from the humidity of the outdoor atmosphere. and he was there, waiting in a little booth tucked away in the corner of the establishment, aimlessly scrolling through his socials as he waited for lily to arrive.

“hi,” she smiled softly, sliding into the seats opposite him, placing her bag down next to her.

“ah, hey lils.” harry smiled, putting his phone down as she sat down in front of him. “how are you?”

“yeah, all good, thankyou.” she nodded politely, “and you?”

“i’m good, mhm.” he hummed, nodding his head as the waiter approached their table, placing the coffee he had ordered a few minutes ago down in front of him. “drink?”

“oh, yes please.” lily nodded. “could i just get a white coffee please?”

the waiter nodded, smiling before turning on her heel and heading off toward the till. harry’s eyes followed her, before darting back to lily.

conversations between the two were pleasant, lily planning out responses in her head, overthinking a couple moments but overall it was nice.

harry attended the university of london, studying medical science to become a doctor. the pair had met a few months ago, after lily had practically thrown her to-go cup of coffee all over him, down the light beige slacks he was wearing, and staining the crisp, white shirt on his torso. he’d insisted on buying her another coffee, and said that a date with her would make up for it. the two of them had been out together six times since then, but something just wasn’t quite right.

lily hadn’t ever really had a proper boyfriend. yes, she’d had the fling here and there, lost her virginity to a friend from secondary school, made out with one or two guys over the course of a few years - but never anything serious. harry did make her feel a little insecure - it wasn’t like he was a manwhore, but the boy was definitely experienced and a tiny bit too keen for her liking. the way his hand would linger on her thigh, the way he kissed her was a little too deeply for her liking, the way his palm somehow found her ass every time they hugged - it was all just a little too much for her.

not to mention, when the two of them did kiss, he made her feel a little insecure about her inexperience. was this what relationships were supposed to be like? she wasn’t sure, but her love life had been missing-in-action for so long, lily was going to take whatever she could get.

meanwhile, max fewtrell had just returned to his sister’s apartment, and was putting his shoes back into the white rack on the floor, when his phone starting buzzing in his pocket.

“‘sup bob?” the man said after swiping to answer the call from his best friend.

“alright, max?” lando replied. “wanna come to miami in a few weeks? bring p if you want, mate, all the other girlfriends are here.”

“oh, sweet, we’ll be there, thanks mate.” max nodded. “i’ll check with her, but yeah, should be fine.”

“cool, that was all, gotta go, see you on wednesday, yeah?” the british driver responded, the sound of someone calling his name in the background of the call.

“yeah, see you wednesday, bob.”

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taglist: @verogonewild @tvdtw4ever @shawnscurlz @f1fantasys

i do not give permission for my works to be re-written, re-published, or published on any other platform.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #fanfiction #f1 2024 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando norris one shot #lando norris #lando x reader #ln4 #mclaren #max fewtrell #quadrant

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nashusglasses · 2 months ago

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Hiiii can I request Sylus with 49 “Put on a show for them, baby.” and 11 “You’re fucking hot when you cry.” 🤭

posting this ahead of thursday bc i've kept you waiting long enough!!! here's amateur pornstar sylus AU <3

these prompts are from this list. if you'd like, send me two prompts and a lads man for next week :)

(NSFW, 18+, please read) mentions of subspace, orgasm torture, creampie, urination from oversensitivity

"My precious girl," Sylus croons. He kisses your sweaty hairline. "Where'd all your courage go?"

"Fuck if I know." You can't tell if it's anger or resignation that makes you want to bruise his chest with a hard punch. The rabbit vibrator is still hot from whirring three back-to-back orgasms out of you. "Where are we…?"

"Twelve," he answers.

You almost whine. Was this all your fault? Yes. But that didn't mean you weren't allowed to be pissed off. You'll just edit out all your unnecessary grumbling. An easy fix, especially if the angle of the camera is focused solely on your used pussy.

(You did get a comment on a recent video praising Sylus for his cooing, though. Too low for viewers' ears to pick up actual sentences, but it's the way you melt into him that gets the message across. pleeeeaaaseeeeeeeee don't edit out the part where he talks to u <3, it said. idek what hes saying but he sounds soooo hot!!!)

Sylus soothes your unease with a kiss, tapping the toy still notched inside you. "Want me to take it out?"

"Just—wait," you moan. It's the only thing grounding you to this bed. The floaty feeling in your head isn't enough to overwhelm you entirely, but you're well on your way to surrending your consciousness to the darkest shade of fucked-out. "Can you… kiss me?"

He presses you deeper into the mattress with how hard he gives it to you. His tongue catches your loud exhale, licking taut like he's fiending for your taste. You're breathless. Worn out, muscles already screaming with an ache you'll feel for days. You've only got ten minutes left to beat your record of how many orgasms Sylus can wrench out of you within an hour.

Whether you're conscious by the end of it or not doesn't matter. He'll always take care of you.

Sylus lets up from your kiss, taps the toy again. "Good now?"

You nod, cringing when you feel yourself loosen around nothing as it slides out under his guidance. You don't even need to look down to know that the toy shines, creamed with lube and your own wetness. Sylus twists it around for the camera lens, offering a flexed bicep just to double-up on eye candy.

"Two more, darling," he croons, tossing it far on the bed to clean up later. "Still got it in you?"

He says it loud enough for a tease, but no one else can glean the concern from his eyes. He sees it too, the way you're blinking too slow now. Throat caught with silence because you're thinking too much and not at all at the same time.

"Colour?" He whispers. He cups your face when you close your eyes for too long.

The warmth brings you back, bliss colouring your head into lax satisfaction. "Green."

You think he says good girl, but all your senses clam up when you feel his cock pressing up inside you, whining deep from the heat sparked in your gut. Sylus presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Put on a show for them, baby."

It starts with clenched toes, spasming thighs where he keeps his hands to tuck your knees up. The perfect shot for the wet piston of his cock because he knows you always come the hardest when he's inside you, and you've got the arch of your back to show for it.

Suddenly you can't help but shake with choked laughter, because of course you already feel the build of an orgasm threatening its eruption. "I'm—ha—already—"

"I know, sweetie." Sylus slaps his hips hard just to watch you curl with a gasp. "Let me feel you."

Your chest caves, breaths lost when you watch the way his dick creams at the base, sticky sounds you hope your viewers appreciate. You whine loud, almost too corny with the volume.

"Oh—" Sylus picks up to painful speed, hips a hard threat on your clit and you're throwing your head back— "fuck, oh my God coming—!"

There's thirteen. Nothing slow or careful about it, just a frenzy you squeeze your pussy through and you moan with every pulse. Senses heightened to clarity only an orgasm can help you achieve, and it crashes just as fast when Sylus whistles: "One more?"

You fog over into submission. He takes it from you, leaning up into straighter posture to guarantee harder thrusts you feel into your hair. You come again, writhing from the barrage, eyes pinched with hot tears.

"Oh, my darling." Sylus curls over where you lie limp, pumping through his own orgasm with a deep groan, cum sliding down your ass for a dirty grand finale. You heave with another sob. "My sweet girl. I'm proud of you. And you're fucking hot when you cry."

"Down. Now," you plead, and immediately he coils his arms around your shaking body, shushing you sweetly. "It's—hot…"

"Where?"

"There." You burn. It aches, and Sylus knows immediately.

"Go ahead," he coos. "I'm right here, it's okay."

You squeeze through another wave of tears, hiccuping, and suddenly your pussy is warm, too warm, way too wet, and you weep and mewl and cry as the embarrassment tips you over, the cum drying on your ass washing down with your own dirty heat.

When you finally feel empty, you cry even harder. "Sy-lus—"

"Sh-h." He pets your head. "No more of that. Focus on my voice. I love you with my entire soul. My darling baby, my sweetheart. You did so, so well…"

He kisses your tears away as your mind fades to black.

#love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #lads #lads sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #lads x you #lads smut #sylus smut #nashusglasses fic

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londonfog-chan · 4 months ago

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Emperor Caracalla x Fem!Reader: Hermâs

A/N: The little lad dances once again.

I got this idea from listening to the soundtrack for Spirit. I’m a fucking horse girl at heart.

I also wanted to write about the true “quirky girl” experience. The majority of the time, the quirky girl isn’t beloved by all. In fact, many find her quite annoying.

I wanted to write about a sheltered, immature girl whose main character syndrome fucks her over when she finds someone that can match her delulu. I wanted to write a story where the reader is genuinely as stupid and naive, as well as childish, as the moron twins are.

Sometimes, we need a stupid reader.

Summary: Was this truly happening? Have the gods at last acknowledged your existence as the main character of your childhood narrative?

Warnings: Caracalla being a creep, period accurate misogyny, mentions of marrying off daughters to old men, Geta plotting evil, slight smutty elements

Credits: massive shoutout to @writhingg and @rxqueenotd for beta reading my clown shoes writing, as well as dealing with me screaming about my Shayla.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive

You found yourself groaning awake in your bed the morning after your sojourn in the stables.

Despite the consistent treatments of echinacea salve and rendered animal fat, the large bruise on your thigh still stung and bled through the linens— your father’s new war stallion was not one to be trifled with. Whereas you had intended to capture the hearts of the handsome stable hands by taming the horse, your poor planning and recklessness had almost killed you.

The stallion had been a gift— war spoil— from a distant land far to the east. The animal was a beautiful golden buckskin with singed brown legs and dark mane; for a moment, you mistook him for one of the golden horses that pulled Sol’s chariot across the sky. One could imagine the distinct markings as telling a story of his divine origin.

Perhaps the fiery rays of the sun singed his legs, mane and tail, and maybe the light bleached his hide— just as it tended to wash out the dyed colors of forgotten laundry hanging on a line.

He was beautiful.

So different from the broken ones you had been able to ride bareback as a small child, you naively thought all this poor creature needed to be tamed was a tender hand. Someone who understood his divine origin, and respected him for it. Only heroes in your childhood fairytales could tame such a beast, and you fancied yourself to be of their rank.

Unfortunately, your status as a chosen one was called into question. The animal was still half possessed by the wilds, and the scent of the working mares around him drove him into a lovesick madness. You jumped without thinking onto his back, and the animal had tried everything in his power to throw you. Both of you went down when he reared, and landed on your sides when the horse lost footing in the arena.

Instead of a potential stable hand suitor rushing to your side to help, your father corralled the stallion, and it was Mother Lucilla who appeared with her maid Leta when she heard your cries of agony. Leta scolded you with a clicking of her tongue as she hauled you up, and your mother’s deep contralto barked out as she gave you a verbal lashing.

“What were you thinking?! Moronic child! Preposterous piss-ant! Behaving as though I’ve never taught you sense! You could have broken your neck, you could have been killed! Foolishness!”

While you were carted back to the house in a lectus, you could hear the young stable hands laughing at your idiocy. Doubled over, they slapped at their bare knees and mimicked your cries and moans of pain in high pitched voices. Baiting, ugly, almost sexual sounding cries, they laughed and hooted until chastised back into their duties by your father’s hard gaze.

The old stable master had yet again approached your father, begging Acacius to do something about these repeated infractions.

“General! With all due respect, your daughter is a nuisance, a menace to my animals and to society! The horse may be ruined because of her stupidity.”

“She is only a child…”

“Does she not count nineteen years, General?! She is more than old enough to be wed, certainly old enough to know better. Perhaps it would do her some good to marry a man of advanced age and wisdom, surely he would straighten out her insolence with a sound beating!”

Even though the war horses were your favorite creatures in all the land, never again would you enter your father’s stables. Far too much embarrassment had cowed you, and you feared that if you made just one more misstep with his animals, that this time your father really would punish you rather than make excuses. Acacius had been cross this time, inflexible with your punishment. Under threat of a good thrashing by your mother, you were not to leave the domus, nor were you allowed to breach even the threshold of the atrium for any excuse. Never in your life had you seen your father so angry…

For a moment you were afraid. Afraid that this time, he would listen to the advice of those he trusted, and ship you off to some shriveled old man who would break your spirit.

You stayed put in your bed as your mother and her maid bathed your wounds and stood by as you recovered. When you began to grow restless, your impotent begging for mercy from hateful Mother Lucilla earned you a few moments alone in the hortus.

You loved the hortus. It was a grand design of your late mother’s creation, consisting entirely of things which were either medicinal or able to be used in various dishes. This time of the year it would be awash with a rainbow of perfumed shrubbery; the marigolds and roses would be in bloom with the purple lavender, interspersed liberally with chamomile and pansy, and you could preoccupy yourself with endlessly plucking blossoms to savor the taste. The peppery marigolds and aromatic rose petals were the taste of summer, a comfort whenever you were distressed.

This task could be accomplished alone, leaving you to ruminate on your embarrassment. Settling against a marble bench near the laurel tree, you lay reclined, with legs splayed on either side of the seat as you chewed the petals on a marigold blossom.

There was no one to stop you. Lucilla’s impatience and eye for meticulous detail were soon distracted by matters of the home. With strict instruction to stay put until she came to fetch you, she departed to attend her responsibilities among the servants in preparation for Acacius’s departure. There was food to be purchased and stored beforehand, monetary affairs to settle, as well as a thousand different things to consider for the duration of the General’s campaign. Certainly no time to devote fully to a rambunctious youth who paced the length of the gardens, limping the entire way.

You could hardly imagine it. In a week’s time, your father would be gone for nearly half a year…

The thought was almost frightening and would have put you in your sickbed, had not you already gone to great lengths to harden your heart. This was nothing at all new. Acacius had left often before when you were young, hence why he’d married Lucilla. The marriage was one of mutual benefit: you would have someone to care for you besides your late mother’s selected wet nurse, and Lucilla would have a child of her own to love and raise, a comfor to her heart for the one she’d lost.

You loved Lucilla. But the thought of losing your father, your last biological connection, and being left alone in the world still frightened you. There was always a chance that this would be the one time Acacius wouldn’t come back— and you wished that the emperors would stop sending your father away.

When Acacius left the domus, the mood of the home became sullen. Prayer was ceaselessly carried out in the lararium. Tithes, incense, and blood libations offered to the gods were overseen by your mother, and she could be gone for hours at a time at temple while you stayed behind in your cubiculum.

When at last you tired of eating flowers, you began carelessly scattering blood red rose petals into your mother’s font filled with carp while asking questions of Venus. You were imagining her responses, looking for her answers taking shape in the patterns the petals made in the water, when you heard mad giggling from behind a pillar towards the domus’ portico.

Whipping around, you looked for the source, eyes widening at the unfamiliar sound.

The giggle increased, and you could see wine colored silken damask dart behind a marble column.

What in the name of the gods was that?!

Nymph? Genius loci? One of the marble gods from the lararium— a statuette— come to life to play with you? You weren’t sure, but your heart was racing, breathing staccato as you crept closer to find out.

The scraping of leather sandals against marble could be heard when you approached. Heavy footed and a little clumsy: the perpetrator moved opposite you. You veered to the left, he to the right.

You saw a flash of hair the color of sunset. As well as the smallest glimpse of blue-gray eyes.

Grinning at the game, you decided to go for a feint. The two of you circled the pillar for a time, the high pitched giggling increasing. The giggle drowned out the sound your footsteps made when you doubled back around the pillar, laying hands on the shoulders of the intruder.

“Caught you!” You sing-songed.

He screeched, his ringed hands covering his face, and you both toppled out of the portico into the grass.

“I caught you!” You cried out again, as you leaned down to pull his hands away from his flushed face.

“You did not! Liar! I was hunting you for sport.” Exclaimed the intruder.

“You aren’t supposed to giggle when chasing your quarry.” You smiled, finally yanking his wrists apart and holding them.

“Liar! You lie! No you didn’t!”

You loved the way the man’s face turned rose pink across pock marked cheeks, his aquiline nose scrunching in anger.

“The laughter was a tactoc… um… A tac… it was an idea of my own design to catch you unawares!”

“Fool!” You smiled, keeping his wrists in a secured hold.

Quickly you rolled off of the interloper when he attempted to knee you between your legs, not knowing who he was or what he was doing snooping in the hortus. He must have been some sort of benevolent spirit sent by the gods. Perhaps even one in disguise, for he was certainly dressed in such opulent finery. Wine colored damask silk with golden zardozi embroidery made his toga picta, with gems of all size and color sewn into the fabric. They caught the sunlight, and the pinpricks of color reflected against your skin.

“You look as if the gods laid your gold and jewels across your neck themselves.” You whistled.

The intruder’s movements were feminine, almost demure. So unlike the more burly movements of generals, or the confident strides of the stable hands. As he sat cross legged, the sound made by the cuffs at his wrists clattering against the gems was captivating. Golden discs the size of libum hung from his ears and chimed with his movements as well.

“You dress like a nymph.” He murmured.

Pert, pink lips parted to allow his tongue to lick across, his smile revealing a single shimmering gold incisor. Surely he must be something otherworldly… you’d never seen someone with a golden tooth before.

“Tell me, nymph, have I stumbled into your secret grove?” He asked.

“No.” You were tickled at the insinuation, “I am no nymph. This is my father’s garden.”

“Your father? That’s not so, this is General Acacius’s garden!”

“General Acacius is my father.”

The intruder shook his head in vehement denial.

“Liar! Lady Lucilla counts forty nine years, and I would have known if she had birthed a child!”

“She is not my blood mother. I counted only three years when my father married her.” You responded, flicking off a half chewed petal from your chin.

Although you knew stories of wicked stepmothers, Lucilla had managed to break the molded stereotype. The first time your father left you alone with her, you bawled like an infant. The good lady had not punished you for your insolence, instead she swept you into her arms and showered your forehead with a thousand kisses.

She was a doting mother, your true mother, the one not of womb but of the heart; who held you and cared for you even when you were insolent.

“And your mother allows you to romp wild in your father’s garden?! To dress like a brothel whore, entertaining strange men?”

The stranger let forth a high pitched giggle, one that made you laugh with him. It was easy to feel inadequate, particularly in the face of such opulence and finery as he wore. The privacy of the garden allowed for leniency in your dress. You had wandered out of your cubiculum in a shrunken, thin, faded green stola that gave a clear view of your bandaged thigh and leg. A mismatched pale pink palla was slung carelessly around your shoulders, and you had long since abandoned your worn out calfskin sandals somewhere in the shrubbery.

“No! I dress like this because I should do as I wish in my own domus. And besides, what would a strange man be doing in my father’s garden to begin with?” You asked, “We were not told of visitors coming.”

“Not all visitors have to announce themselves.” He said haughtily, “Certainly not one as important as myself!”

A fist pounded against his chest in an intimidating boom, the sound reminiscent of a drum.

“Important?” You asked, cocking your head to the side, “Are you a messenger of some sort?”

Your nursemaid and her chatterbox daughter often told you stories of such divine messengers. Half asleep with daydreaming, you would sit at your window as your nurse embroidered crisp linens with geometric patterns, telling stories about Mercury— Hermâs she called him, in the language of the Hellenes— and his wily ways of bestowing divine fortunes and boons upon unsuspecting persons.

“Perhaps I am— a god’s messenger— in my divine disguise…!” exclaimed your stranger.

Your eyes were sparkling. Innocent and sweet.

“Truly?” You asked, crawling to him on all fours. Blissfully unaware of the sensuality in such a movement.

“Indeed. I am a bearer, a messenger, sent by Jupiter himself.” He said, his eyes trained lower on your body, “And I come bearing a secret, strictly for the young flower that hides in her father’s garden.”

“What message have you come to give me?” You asked.

“This divine message is for your ear alone.” He said, his voice lowering to a conspirator’s whisper, “Keep it secret, keep it safe. The gods have deemed you worthy of a special gift, but should you spoil the secret, they will take it away and rain down lighting from the west upon your house!”

“How wonderful!” You exclaimed, your excitement masking the fear of the stranger’s thinly veiled curse, “I’ve never had a message of my very own before!”

“Well then, prepare to be blessed, sweet one. For this message is for your ears alone… Come to my knee, let me whisper it to you.”

You sat upon his lap as he beckoned, nodding enthusiastically and sighing, holding both hands to your cheeks. The stranger leaned closer, cupping his hands over your ear as his lips grazed the shell.

“The gods have great plans for you.” He breathed.

A gasp of delight escaped you, enjoying the fact that your mystery messenger was so close. Whispering sweetness into your ear.

“The gods have told me you are to be given everything your heart desires, my beautiful nymph.” He said, “You will be the envy of all: walking marbled halls while draped in damask silks, vibrant jewels, and gossamer. Your name whispered in reverent prayer upon the tongue of the thousands who will see you in the imperator’s box at the colosseum-…”

“How would this be possible?” You interrupted softly, “I’ve never been outside of these walls, let alone in the palace.”

“You dare to question your divine messenger?! Do not underestimate the might of the gods, nymph. They can make anything so.”

He held your chin in his hand, the softness of his fingertips contrasting the tight grip he maintained, as if expecting you to try and get away.

“They can elevate you to a princess— no! To an empress, if they so desire. The gods wish to use you as their instrument, and they desire to give you everything you could ever want. Money, luxury, power, wine, sexual pleasure…”

“And… and how soon would this happen?” You asked softly.

“Very soon, my sweet one. Your time will come on the first day of the month of Juno, matter of fact.”

It felt so impossibly far away. Too far to even consider. But the fact that such an exciting blessing was to be bestowed during the month of weddings eluded you.

You bounced in excitement on his lap, his hands immediately reaching out to hold your hips steady. Hissing at the pain as he pressed your bruise, you attempted to re-adjust yourself when you felt something press against your inner thigh.

“What in the name of the gods is that?! It… it feels as though you’ve a dagger strapped to your leg.” You said, grinding your thigh against the protrusion.

The messenger froze, and his cheeks turned crimson. A large, impish grin spread from ear to ear, catlike, as if he was preparing to steal a morsel.

“Undo the belt at my tunic, and find out what it may be.” He said, breathless, a perverse look in his eye.

With an impatient huff, you almost rent the damask fabric of his robes in two, demanding that your messenger help you…

But the calling of your mother interrupted the overwhelming need to see what he had strapped to his leg.

“Oh…!” You sighed, a puff of breath escaping past your lips, “I have to go. I’m sorry, but thank you! Thank you for bringing me this message! Tell the gods I will accept this blessing and that I am most thankful to them, and to the messenger who told this to me!”

Before the messenger could protest, you quickly kissed both of his cheeks, scrambling to your feet as you ran off towards the house. As you approached your mother, running breathlessly up to her, you noticed something odd. It appeared as though her heart was racing, almost as if Lucilla was agitated

“What is it, mother?” You asked, out of breath.

Servants were darting every which way, making preparations to feed their guests and make the house presentable. Leta— your mother’s servant— was ordering the others to set the domus to rights, and you were shocked when Lucilla glowered at your unkempt visage.

“What have you been doing?!” Lucilla exclaimed, brushing leaves and petals off your stola, “I allowed you to take a walk, not roll in the shrubbery— is this a stain?!”

“What is this fuss mother…?” You attempted, but your words were stopped by Leta turning your head to look at you.

“My lady, shall I clean your daughter and dress her in the damask?” Asked the handmaiden.

“Yes, quickly! Make sure she is presentable.”

“What’s going on?!” You squeaked, both women taking you by an arm and leading you away like a prisoner to your cubiculum.

“We have been… graced, by the presence of the twin imperators—…”

“THE EMPERORS?!”

“Hush! Yes, the imperators, my darling. You will not speak out of turn again. You will smile and say little more than a polite greeting, after which we shall keep you in your cubiculum, and pray to the gods that you are spared from the lechery of men…”

Lucilla gave you no room to fret, nor to protest. She instead lead you away, to dress you in her armor of modest silk layers and a thick palla.

All the while, you could not stop thinking of the messenger’s promises.

Luxury…

Wine…

Sexual pleasure…

Unannounced guests and the multitude of problems they brought with them hardly made an impression upon your mind, not when there were such wonderful boons coming your way. All divinely ordained, draped like a zardozi embroidered sheet over the hidden evils of the machinations at hand.

In your ignorance, you believed in the lies of the powerful. Blindly trusting in your place as the chosen of the gods, and feeling the least bit better than at last, your worthiness was recognized.

“Caracalla, what in the name of the gods are you doing…?”

The stern tone of his brother, Geta, interrupted his moment of thoughtfulness as Caracalla watched his nymph run back to the house. His brother was scheming, his giggling increasing to a fever pitch, and Geta raised an eyebrow as Caracalla pointed to the home.

“Enjoying the touch and warmth of a beautiful nymph.” Caracalla beamed.

“… a nymph…” Geta deadpanned.

“Indeed. Simple and pure, with a supple breast-…”

“There are no nymphs in a general’s garden.”

“There are!” Caracalla argued.

“You are mistaken. For I only saw a pauper run from you. What have I told you of infecting the inferiors of other men’s houses? You will deplete Rome of slaves with your appetites.” Geta groused.

“This one was no slave! She is Lucilla’s daughter.” Caracalla snapped.

“The general and Lucilla have no daughters.” Geta said.

“Oh but they do, brother! Acacius hides this charming rose in his garden, away from the eyes of men.”

“Is not Lucilla past the age of childbearing?”

“His seed must have overcome that obstacle.” Cackled Caracalla, “For he has quite the lovely young spawn. Very innocent, and eager to believe every word from my lips.”

“What schemes do you invent in that empty head of yours…?” Geta asked, although he knew the answer already. He could see Caracalla’s maddened mind already concocting the most convoluted, outrageous ideas; the grey blue of his iris overtaken by dilating black pupils.

“Do not tell me…” Geta grinned wickedly.

“You know me so well.” Caracalla smiled, “It is a simple thing, really. Turning nymphs into empresses…”

Geta laughed out loud at his brother’s plotting.

“And how much would you ask for her?”

“Two million denarii!”

“Charity, brother, charity...” Geta laughed, “Acacius is a general after all, not a nobleman. Keep your dowry request under one hundred thousand denarii, or you shall never have her.”

“Only one hundred thousand?!”

“Yes, brother. To be paid in coin, land, or flesh, in the customary three years time-… Well… No, no. We may extend the dowry installments to five. After all, we are sending him away to fight your campaign in Numidia. He will need some time. You’ll want to wed her and bed her before he leaves as well.”

“I would have preferred the two million…” pouted Caracalla.

“Whatever for? The money is of little consequence. You would only piss away two million on whores, and her father would sooner give her away to someone else. This conquest will be far more simple, exercise your power and will it so. I shall give my blessing as the arrangement is not without benefits.”

When Caracalla’s feverish mind could not connect the dots, Geta prompted him.

“She is Lucilla’s legitimate heir. Marry her daughter, and you secure not only the title, but a closer position to the good lady herself… Slake your thirst for flesh with both this nubile creature’s affections, and with the attentions of her comely mother as well.”

#gladiator ii #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #emperor Caracalla x reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator movie #general acacius #lucilla

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queen-of-reptiles · 1 year ago

Text

𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚂

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘

description: In which lauren james's girlfriend is not a chelsea supporter but after such a good game, how can she not give lauren a treat for her work?

smut

minors dni

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lauren james x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction! Do not take any of this seriously.

warnings: language, smut, no under 18's lads, spanking, rough, slightly dom lauren, fluff, nude taking, fingering, cunnilingus, thigh riding, strap fucking (i think that is it??)

MINORS DNI

NO UNDER 18’s

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y/n waited painfully for Lauren to join her in their bedroom, the harsh feel of the black lace fabric was hardly noticeable as she waited patiently.

Lauren finally appeared eyes directed to the floor as she opened the door and turned to lock it, not looking toward her lover who was knelt patiently on the bed.

"Right baby." Lauren began as she looked up, but all words died in her throat at the sigh staring back at her.

"I thought you deserved a reward for how well you did today." y/n smiled softly, biting her plump bottom lip. "Though don't get used to it." She added.

Lauren gulped, her mind running wild on how to permanently stick her Chelsea shirt to her lover's body. She'd always looked great in blue y/n, but right now she looked fantastic.

"Turn around." Lauren said, moving closer to the bed. y/n did as she was told, turning so Lauren could see the letters of her last name which were marking her back.

Lauren groaned, her mind running wild with a primitive need to mark her lover in her shirt. Lauren's hand found her lover's back and she pushed her forward y/n landing on her hands and knees.

"Dreamed about this." Lauren sighs, her hand pushing the bottom of the shirt up so y/n's ass was now bare in the air, the lace thong doing nothing to protect the skin from the lazy slap Lauren laid on it.

y/n whimpered, having not expected the slap and jolted. Lauren repeated her slap once more, this one having more force behind it and she did it a third time, a red hand-print now appearing on the soft skin.

Lauren groaned at the sight and lent back, the sound of the polaroid camera clicking and a flash echoed around the room. y/n rolled her eyes as she looked back at Lauren who sent her a cheeky wink.

The footballer took the printing polaroid and left it on the bedside table, the photo of her lover in her shirt and her handprint on her ass slowly developing.

"Get down." Lauren said, pushing y/n's upper back down so her chest was flush into the mattress but she was still on her knees which were on the edge of the bed.

Lauren pulled the shirt tight, so the lettering of her name was clear as she drilled her hips into her lover from behind, just the strength and pressure making y/n gasp, despite the lack of friction she got from it.

Lauren snapped another photo, her lover's back slightly arched from her thrusts, her name so obviously visible as she placed the photo down on the table.

Lauren let go of y/n, pushing her slightly as she stripped her joggers off and sat back against the headboard and gestured for her lover to come closer.

y/n situated herself on one of Lauren's thighs, straddling it with folded legs as she knelt either side. Lauren slid her hand up to her lover's neck, taking it in her hand and squeezing until her lover wheezed.

At the noise, Lauren raised the camera and clicked, the frame having her hand, her lover's neck and the Chelsea badge inside in, y/n's bottom lip just visible at the top.

y/n took the photo and placed it on the side as Lauren loosened her grip and began to stroke the skin of y/n's neck, she pulled the girl down and connected their lips softly.

"You okay?" Lauren asked, making sure her lover was okay with all that had happened and would continue to.

"Yeah baby." y/n said lovingly, her hand running down Lauren's face so she could bring their lips back together. Lauren sucked y/n's plump bottom lip into her mouth, sinking her teeth into it.

y/n moaned at the bite, hips bucking against her lover's thigh, damp slick coating the skin as Lauren pulled from her lover's lip with a soft pop, the indent of her teeth making her groan.

Lauren's hand slid down, taking one of y/n's boobs in her hand over the Chelsea top. She took another photo before moving the hem of the top into y/n's mouth, exposing her lace clad chest to the air.

"You keep that in there no matter what, okay?" Lauren whispered to y/n, pushing more fabric into her mouth as y/n nodded. Lauren took a photo of the sight in front of her, the black lace being pushed against by her lover's full chest.

Lauren placed the photo on the side once more before pulling one of the lace cups down, sliding the strap as best she could down. y/n realised it was stuck and slide her arm from the arm of the shirt so the strap could slide off before she got back into the shirt.

Lauren pinched at the nipple which sat perked in front of her and the muffle groan of y/n could have made Lauren cum right there and then.

Lauren bent her head down and quickly sucked y/n's tit into her mouth as best she could. She used her tongue to circle the erect nipple as she continued to suck, teeth digging in, not that she minded.

y/n's hand landed on Lauren's neck, keeping her lover pushed against her chest as Lauren moved to suck a deep hickey into the underside of her boob.

While Lauren's mouth continued, her fingers came back up to pinch and twist at y/n's wet nipple, the girl's head thrown back as she groaned in pleasure.

Lauren pulled away proud of the darkening mark on her lover’s skin and she sucked once more on her hard nipple.

“Can I?” Lauren whispered, hand holding the camera and y/n nodded, Lauren quickly snapping the bra in half before taking the photo.

“Lauren.” y/n whined as Lauren placed the photo of her tits on the side.

“I’ll buy you a new one baby.” Lauren says without care as she leaned into her lover’s other breast and quickly took it into her mouth.

At the feeling of Lauren's rough tongue around her other nipple and her fingers stimulating her other slick tit, y/n gasped and bucked her hips against Lauren's muscled thigh.

"That's it baby." Lauren muttered. "You be good and get yourself off first." She continued before going back to marking y/n's chest.

y/n nodded her head, her hands gripping at Lauren's shoulders as she began to roll her hips against Lauren's thigh. The feeling was pure ecstasy.

The rough feel of the lace caught her clit as Lauren's spare hand went around y/n's body and pulled the top of the thong up to pull the lace taught against her lover.

"Lauren." y/n breathed, trying to keep the shirt between her teeth, not sure what she was asking as Lauren chuckled, the noise muffled from the tit in her mouth.

Lauren seemingly knew what her lover needed and tensed her thigh, the muscles budlging into y/n and causing the girl to speed up her thrusts to chase the high.

"Come on baby, show me what you got." Lauren whispered, her mouth switching back to the other tit as her fingers pinched at the other wet nipple.

y/n's groans became breathier and Lauren bit down harshly on her lover's breast, a wash of relief flushing through her as her orgasm shook her.

"That's it." Lauren cooed, almost mockingly as she let y/n work herself down. y/n let the soaked top out from her teeth and pawed at her lover's chest.

"Lauren." y/n whined, and Lauren lent up pecking her lips.

"What baby?" Lauren asked quietly as y/n continued to paw at her.

"Wanna taste you." y/n whined again and Lauren groaned, finding the sound so attractive. Lauren nodded, kissing y/n quickly.

"Okay, want you in the position though." Lauren told her and y/n sighed in relief from the fact she could finally taste the craving she had and the fact she hand a brief restpite from orgasming which she was sure would be happening more than once tonight.

y/n knew what Lauren wanted so stood up as Lauren rid herself of her underwear and y/n took the other half of her broken bra off.

Lauren sat back down, spreading her legs out as y/n crawled onto the bed, fixing the Chelsea shirt back on. y/n opened her legs, hooking either ankle over Lauren's and lent down.

y/n had always been gifted with loose hips and because of that, Lauren's favourite view while being eaten out was her, box splitting, because it meant her ass was in full view.

y/n was in desperate need to taste her dripping girlfriend and pushed forward to flattening her tongue through Lauren's folds which resulted in a low groan.

"Top above your ass baby." Lauren said between groans as y/n's tongue licked through her constantly.

y/n did as told and lifted the bottom of the shirt above her ass so it was in full view, and the sound of the camera going off once more echoed the room.

For a moment, the only noises in the room were the sound of y/n's rapidly moving tongue against Lauren's sensitive clit and the breathy groans of the footballer herself.

Eventually y/n's tongue dipped into Lauren's clenching hole and y/n pushed through the tight space and closed her lips so she could suck.

The noise that echeod from Lauren was purely sinful and y/n's hands landed on Lauren's hips and pulled her closer so she could fire her tongue in and out of Lauren's clenching hole.

Lauren called out in shock as y/n ignored the ache which spread over her tongue and jaw. y/n pulled her tongue from Lauren and switched back to her clit.

Lauren's groans became lower in pitch as she grew closer and as y/n's tongue and lips pulled at her clit, all it took was one look down for Lauren to come undone.

The sight of her lover's legs spread, her hips rutting against the sheets in need, her ass in perfect view and Lauren's name shining on her back pulled the orgasm to ripple through her tired body.

y/n worked Lauren down, her tongue slowing it's patterns until Lauren tapped four times at her hand to let her know to sit up.

y/n leaned up, her hip cracking as she did and Lauren chuckled slightly at the noise. She then patted the pillow next to her and y/n crawled up and rested beside her.

"Thank you baby." Lauren hummed, pressing a deep kiss against her lover's lips, her tongue swiping her own taste from y/n's mouth.

y/n smiled softly and Lauren melted as she shifted slightly to sit up and keep her lover pressed into the matress below.

"Wanna have my fingers inside you. That okay?" Lauren asked and y/n nodded, a needy whine leaving her lips.

Lauren chuckled at that and shifted down slightly so she came face to face with the clothed heat of her lover.

Lauren ran her finger over the crotch section and groaned at the wetness which soaked her fingertips as she pulled away.

Lauren slowly pulled the underwear from her lover with her teeth, groaning at the wet shine which covered her lover.

"Would it be okay if I took a photo baby?" Lauren asked softly, her finger slowly circling y/n's clenching hole. y/n paused thinking the question through for a moment.

"Is it okay if you do it from above? So you can only really see your fingers in?" y/n asked softly. Lauren smiled softly, her pointer finger sliding in slowly.

"Of course baby." Lauren said kindly, the camera being passed to her as she slowly worked her finger in and out of y/n who was mewling for more.

Lauren added a second finger, the stretch from it welcome to y/n who moaned in response as Lauren once again slowly built up the pace.

Lauren lent over y/n, taking a photo which showed Lauren's finger's knuckle deep in her lover who was mainly hidden by the Chelsea shirt.

Lauren then placed the camera down and y/n placed the polaroid on the side before a shocked moan was pulled from her throat.

Lauren's fingers hand suddenly sped up, now moving at a much quicker pace, pushing against the spongy spot which was buried deep inside y/n.

The girl moaned loudly as Lauren twisted her wrist, y/n's legs now moving as she tried to grasp reality with the pleasure she was going through. Suddenly Lauren's finger stilled, her knuckles pressed against y/n who whined in need.

"Stop fucking moving." Lauren said lowly, annoyance in her tone. "I give you pleasure, no one else, not even you." Lauren continued huskily.

y/n nodded quickly muttering babbled apologies and begs which caused Lauren to smirk, she began to move her fingers slower, the sudden halt in stimulation dragging a sob from y/n's throat.

"Lauren, please." y/n begged as she gulped air in, the stretch from Lauren's fingers no longer satisfying enough.

"What?" Lauren asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Faster, harder, please." y/n begged, usually Lauren could be cheeky, almost cruel, but as she saw her girlfriend in the shirt she had been dying to see her in, Lauren took pity on her.

Lauren flicked her wrist, speeding up her thrusts and pushing her fingers deep and quick, y/n groaned, covering her mouth in shock as she tried to keep the moans quiet.

"Wanna hear you." Lauren ordered, her eyes never leaving the sight of her fingers drilling deep into her girlfriend.

"Oh my god, ah." y/n moaned and Lauren lent down, her lips closing around y/n's clit before sucking. y/n's back arched as she moaned, trying to control the feel of her body with little success.

"You nearly there?" Lauren asks, knowing the answer easily as she closed her lips back around y/n's sensitive clit.

"Please, please, let me cum, please." y/n begged to Lauren who lifted her face for a moment.

"Whenever you need to baby." Lauren confirmed and y/n cried out a few more times before Lauren's abilities became to much, her body tensing and shaking as she was pushed into her orgasm.

Lauren tongue pushed down, her fingers not slowing down as she aimed to push her girlfriend through a prolonged orgasm, her name becoming a prayer from her lover at that moment.

Lauren slowly slowed her fingers down, the wet noises which were coming from them the only sound in the room as she made sure they were coated before pulling them from her lover and into her mouth.

y/n whined at the emptiness she was now feeling and Lauren hushed her with several light kisses to her lips, y/n's eyes were rolled back, sweat sticking her baby hairs down and her body was still shaking slightly.

Lauren couldn't help but take a photo, y/n being too fucked out to even try and make herself look a little more presentable. Lauren's hand then came down on her, the slap sending waves up her clit and y/n's back arched, Lauren once again snapping a photo.

"That one was mean." y/n gasped out at Lauren who chuckled and set the camera down, placing as kiss on her lover as she fiddled with something.

"Turn over, want you on your knees for my strap." Lauren ordered softly.

"You just want to see your own name you arrogant fuck." y/n denied and Lauren chuckled again though this one was slightly darker, spinning her lover she settled y/n on her knees.

"What did you just call me?" Lauren asked, hands running over y/n's ass once more. y/n seemed to have now realised her mistake and winced as she kept her head looking at the mattress.

y/n went to answer but instead gasped out her lover's name at the intrusion which had now been fully stuffed into her. The fake cock resting deep in her as Lauren's hands squeezed at her ass cheeks.

"What was that?" Lauren asked teasingly, pulling her hips back before pushing the cock back into slowly, making sure y/n could feel every second, every shift.

"Nothing." y/n promised breathlessly, groaning as Lauren's thrusts began to speed up, Lauren letting out a groan of relief as the strap began hitting her just right as well.

"That's what I fucking thought." Lauren breathes, the sound of wet slapping and her hands smacking as she fucked fast were causing y/n to get wetter with each moan.

"Please, please, please." y/n chanted, arching her back as Lauren pushed her shoulders to the bed, her hand squeezing y/n's ass again.

Lauren's thumb was tucked into her mouth for a moment, before it swiped through y/n's dripping folds which caused y/n to shout in pleasure, Lauren then slid her thumb up.

Lauren's thumb was suddenly pushing and twirling y/n's clit the sound of her moans Lauren's reward which built her up even more. Lauren rubbed harder, desperate for her lover's orgasm.

Lauren's hand slid onto y/n's lower stomach, holding her as she watched her own name bounce on y/n's back. Lauren pressed down on y/n's lower stomach, never stopping her fast and hard thrusts.

"You feel me there? Feel how fucking deep I am inside you?" Lauren asks breathlessly. y/n lets out a moan at that nodding her head as she shakes.

"Yeah, I feel you." y/n promises, Lauren grabbing one of her hands and holding it with her own on y/n's lower stomach.

"That's me, that's how deep I am, this is where I belong, deep inside your perfect body, my perfect body." Lauren continues and at her rant, y/n's back arches once more and with another rub at her clit, the coil is ready to burst.

"Let me, please, please." y/n moans out her voice shaky from the force of Lauren's pounds.

"Give it to me, please cum, need it baby." Lauren begs and as y/n's core tightens around Lauren's cock, both lover's fall over the edge, moaning as Lauren slows her thrusts dragging it out as long as possible.

Once the two had recovered, Lauren slightly more than her still dripping lover, Lauren slowly pulled out, apologising softly as her lover whimpered.

"I know baby." Lauren promises, moving to the en-suite to run a bath. When she comes back, y/n is now on her back, legs still shaking as she runs a hand over her face.

Lauren chuckles as she moves over, two fingers swiping through her lover which is responded with a yelp. Lauren sucks her fingers into her mouth, groaning at the taste.

"I'm sorry." Lauren promises her lover, bending down to pick her up and help her into the bath, Chelsea top folded on the side.

Once the two were settled together in the water, and y/n's body had been softly cleaned, their hairs washed, Lauren finally pressed a soft kiss to y/n's neck.

"I think you should wear my Chelsea shirt more often." Lauren hums and despite her tired state, y/n let out a soft laugh, the two standing up and quickly drying themselves.

"I love you Laur." y/n muttered as her lover carried her back over to the bed.

"I love you too baby, now get some sleep, you were so good for me." Lauren promises and y/n nods, folding her body into Lauren's side and clocking out almost instantly.

While y/n slept, Lauren couldn't help but look through all the photos, her eyes rolling at the way they made her heart speed up. Yes, those were a good idea, and she would definitely have something for the next England Camp to keep her occupied.

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END

merry christmas you filthy animals xxx

#woso #woso x reader #woso x y/n #woso community #woso soccer #lauren james #lauren james smut #lauren james x reader #lauren james x y/n #woso smut #lauren james imagine

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raffe156 · 2 years ago

Note

HEYYY!!!

I WILL LITERALLY BEG FOR THIS🙏

A Brat!Reader, Gentle Dom!Price, Hard dom! Ghost or König

I BEEN ALL WEEK THINKING ABT IT

Im sorry this took sooooo long!!

It’s a quickie but I hope you like it ☺️

Paring: Price x fReader x Ghost

Warnings :NSFW MDNI,female Brat reader, Hard Dom Ghost, Soft Dom Price I’ve not got them troupes down to a T yet but you get the idea💖

✨⛺️ Camp out Drabble coming soon!⛺️✨

“Told you not to wind him up today didn’t I?” Price cupped your face in his hand. He was gentle, Ghost on the other hand was brutal, he wasn’t in the mood for your attitude hadn’t been all day that’s why you were now bent over the small table in the cramped gear room, loose bullets rolling off as Ghost thrust deep into you over and over. He looped his huge hand under the shoulder strap of your tact vest to bounce you back into his thrust. The sound of his flesh slapping against yours echoed through the room.

Ghost hunched over you, his mass pushing you down onto the table still thrusting relentlessly into you. You were positive you heard the table creak under the pressure.

“Not got much to say now have you eh? All day you’ve been baiting me…your snarky little comments and cocky attitude got you where you are right now…next time you mouth off I might just fuck you right infront of the entire base…like the little shit that you are” He was right next to your ear his breath hot on your neck and face.

You couldn’t help the smirk, you knew you had annoyed him today, pushed your luck too far. Price clocked you smirking.

“An you were doing so well…” he chuckled, this caught Ghost’s attention.

“What you fucking smirking at?” He growled as he snapped you back upright by your vest, with the height difference and the new angle he knew his cock would be bulging inside you, pushing your wall. He was already fully buried inside you, but he liked to see you squirm.

“FUCK!” You gasped trying to perch your knee up on the table to lift yourself up.

“Not smirking now…are you?” Ghost was taunting you but this new angle had caused your to constrict around him and with each heavy thrust he was getting closer. You could feel him in the pit of your stomach.

“Such a…fucking little slut for your CO’s…aren’t yah? He was gritting his teeth as he slammed home into you. Your tact vest still firmly in his grasp. He was almost holding you up by it. He pushed you back down onto the table, his hips slamming into you frantically you couldn’t keep up, you broke , your whines drowned out by his guttural groans, you felt him inside you now slow, warm, lazy. All the frustration leaving his body his muscles relaxing his jaw unclenched.

Price had made his way around the table to you, he had to pat Ghost on the shoulder to get him up off you. As he did so you felt him slide out of you slowly.

“Good lad…” Price smiled as Ghost backed away from you not before he took a look at his handy work, the backs of your legs were red from the friction burn from his jeans, even little teeth marks from were his zipper had pressed into your skin. He was almost proud of himself.

“Easy does it,” Price helped you up, making sure your feet were grounded. He turned you round to face him.

“You still with us kid?” He chuckled, you could feel your eyes rolling, lids heavy, head wanting to lull back. Ghost always fucked you silly, it was like his signature move. Prick.

“Yeh, I’m still with you Sir…” you smiled at Price showing him you could stand on your own, just. Ghost scoffed. Elton johns ‘I’m still standing’ played in your head as your smirked again at your Lieutenant. Price nodded, a little smirk of his own hidden under his tash. Your attitude always amused him. Price lifted you onto the table an positioned himself between your legs.

He cupped your jaw, commanding your full attention, which you almost always gave.

“You gonna be a good girl for me this time love?” His eyes were soft but the blue of them told you not to mess him about. You nodded. He smiled.

You both watched as he pulled his dick out of his pants it was rock hard, already dripping from the top, he swiped the head of it across your centre, lightly tapping it on your opening. He was teasing you. You edged your hips forward, it almost slipped in. He pulled back.

“Ahh, you said you were going to be a good girl…don’t be so impatient or I will make you wait like I did last time…” he grinned.

You eased up, leaning back on your hands, legs spread wider.

“Sorry, Captain…” your clearly insincere apology made his nostrils flare. God you could play him. He smirked and with no warning and one stroke he was in, even after Ghost it was still a tight fit, both men were bigger than average but Price was wider, he buried inside you differently. You wanted to throw yourself backwards onto the table, open yourself up to him, but Price pulled you in tight to him, throwing you arms around his neck. His grip firmly on your backside almost lifting you off the table. His thrusts rough and slow. The coil inside your belly wound itself tighter and tighter with each thrust.

You wrapped your legs around him tight, crossing your ankles.

“Fuck…that’s it…” Price grunted.

His mouth found yours open an wet. Your tongues packed together. His paced picked up, his hips slamming into you. And for the second time you broke open, panting your Captains name as you buried your face into his neck.

“Good…girl..fuck…” you felt his hips stuttered as he came inside you.

Price held you to him a little bit longer only easing up once your heart had slowed. You were still tucked under his chin.

“You ok?…” Ghost stood to the side of Price he brushed your hair out of your face, you clocked the small towel in his other hand. It was only after sex that he was gentle, you didn’t mind. In the afterglow you both behaved.

“Come to clean up your mess Lt?” Your grinned. Ghost growled, he knew it wouldn’t last long. It never did.

Price chuckled.

“What we gonna do with you eh?”

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thegnomelord · 1 year ago

Note

Got an idea for prompt #20. Ghost, Price and male reader for monster au with reader wanting to try giving up control for once

Sure thing mate! I kinda got ahead of myself lol. Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Trusting enough to give up control

CW: NSFW, Dom dragon Price, Switch wraith Ghost, Sub male mage Reader, Monster au, collars, blowjobs, Dom/Sub, praise kink.

You don't have a right to feel apprehensive; you suggested this after all, but your fingers tremble as you trace the leather inscribed with anti-magic runes. The collar should feel comfortable around your neck, you know because you touched the leather a thousand times before even humoring the idea of putting it on... but the idea of being without magic — completely defenseless — arouses and scares the shit out of you.

A blackened hand grips your jaw almost too tenderly, tilting your head up so you meet Simon's gaze. "Havin' second thoughts?" He presses closer to you until he's bullied his way between your legs with his knees spreading your own, boxers retaining all of your modesties for now.

You give a small sound, neither confirming nor denying. It earns you a weak slap to the inner thigh from Price's tail, his chest and your back fitting together like puzzle pieces. "There's no shame in backing out." He purrs, sharp talons gently massaging the sting out of your thigh while his tail curls around your shin. "But we need you to be vocal lad-" He takes the collar from your hand, "-do you want this?"

"Get on with it." You snap before you can chicken out, breathing in to calm your nerves. "...please."

The last word has Price rewarding you by groping your cock. "Good boy," Simon looks at him for permission, his lips sealing over yours to swallow your groan as soon as it's given. Your teeth click together, his kisses always so aggressive and demanding that you almost forget about the collar until you feel the cold buckle against your skin.

The effect is immediate; an unpleasant jolt rushes down your spine to flood every vertebrae with a bone gnawing cold, a heavy fog settling over a portion of your mind. The leather puts resistance on your throat as you breathe as if to mock you for your choice, reminding of how weak you are, how useless-

Price places a gentle kiss on your cheek, his beard tickling your skin and claws carding through your hair. "Color?"

Simon's hands grope your sides, the collar turning even the wraith's freezing hands blessedly warm. "Go on, use that pretty mind for us." He orders in a gruffer voice, his lips still close to yours.

"Green," You suck in a small breathe, goosebumps spreading across your skin. "Just cold."

Simon presses even closer to you, burning lips taking your breath away so he can nibble on your lip. "Can't have that, can we Captain?" He smirks, ignoring you to look at Price. "'specially when our boy's being so docile."

"'s that so?" You notice how Price keeps a possessive hand over your throat, one finger hooked underneath the collar. "D'you think you've earned a reward?" He asks, his other hand tracing down your front to play with the band of your boxers.

"Please." The word escapes your throat before your mind can even finish processing the question.

"Good boy," Prices loves the way you shiver, loves the sight of you so open and vulnerable just for them; he catches Simon licking his lips. "Go on then Simon," His hand slides beneath your boxers to push the band down until your cock springs out. "'m sure you're hungry." Just seeing your rock hard cock throb when he swipes his roughly scared thumb across the head has Price's own dick go hard.

"I'm not the only one." Simon rumbles and bites your collarbone, leaving a trail of dark hickeys and teeth imprints across your front until he's face to face with your aching cock. "Fuck, such an adorable thing." He growls against the meat of your thigh, biting you there just so he can see a drop of pre-cum bead atop your cock head. "Should keep a collar 'round your neck all the time so you can be pretty and pliant for us."

"Simon-" The width of his shoulders and Price's tail around your shin keeps you from closing your legs, embarrassment making your cheeks burn hot. "-you fucker," You growl and attempt to grab his hair so you can get his mouth where you need it.

You yelp when Price slaps your cock with his tail, pain and pleasure flaring up your spine. "None of that." Price growls, keeping a hand on your collar and pinning your hands to your stomach with the other. "Play nice-" His eyes shift to Simon's. "-both of you."

"Yes sir." Simon relents, grabbing a hold of your cock your eyes close as he licks from your base to the tip of your cock. A little squeeze of Price's hand has your eyes snapping open just in time to see Simon's monstrously long tongue loll out of his mouth, wrapping and stroking your shaft as he suckles your head, drool and your pre-cum staining his chin.

"Good boys." Price rumbles as your head falls back on his shoulder, barely able to keep your eyes open as Simon sucks you like a trained whore, leaving fingerprint bruises while he holds your hips down from bucking. "Simon feels good, doesn't he?" You nod your head, hissing when Simon suddenly swallows you down to the base; Wraiths don't need to breathe and Simon takes full advantage of that fact by swallowing around you, hot throat spasming and long tongue stroking the sensitive veins along your cock.

"Go on sweetheart." Price nibbles on your ear as you shake and try not to cum quickly like a teenager but it's a loosing battle, Simon's hot mouth and the dark look he gives as he stares at you has you tumbling towards orgasm faster than anything else. "No need to hold on." He lets go off your hands to push Simon's head even further down on your cock, until your tip's pocking the back of his throat.

Price's permission is all it takes, the building heat in your stomach spilling over the sides as you cum, your hips uselessly bucking against Simon's hold as you cum down his throat. Simon doesn't even choke, throat constricting and milking you for all you have, continuing to suckle until you grow soft in his mouth.

You're barely lucid when Simon finally pulls off, cum and drool bridging his lips with the tip of your cock, your body completely boneless but still able to twitch as Simon licks the residual cum from your oversensitive dick.

"Good boy." Price praises and you can feel his own hard cock poke into your ass. "I think he can go again, don't you, Simon?"

Simon smirks and raises to give you a sloppy kiss, your brain too melted into mush to care about the taste of your cum on his tongue. "Oh-" Simon's hand sneaks down to stroke your soft cock back to harness, ignoring your pitiful whining. "-I think he can."

#Gnome's prompt game #gnome correspondence #captain john price #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #top male reader #male reader #sub reader #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #monster 141 au #monster au #monster cod au

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lipglossanon · 2 years ago

Text

And Now For Something Completely Different

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The Merchant x fem!reader (one shot)

Such a random thought I had and quickly wrote out while I made coffee lmao so have this total and complete one off from my normal 🫣 please don’t expect more from me 🤣 also have a screenshot I took cause I thought he looked cute 😉

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex, creampie, slight dirty talk? 😆

not proofread or even looked over lmao ✌️

Title pulled from Monty Python 😜

part ii

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“I’ve got something that might interest ya,” the strange man murmurs as you step up to the rickety table.

The purple flame‘s the only light source in the area casting strange shadows on the walls and across the man calling himself the merchant.

You pull out the few rubies you were able to scrounge out of some old barrel and hold them out to him, “Is this enough to get an upgrade and a first aid spray?”

His dark eyes look down at your palm and back up to your face, “Well no stranga, I can do one or the other, but I’m afraid it’s not enough cash for both.”

You slump in on yourself, exhaustion writ all over your features as you sigh, “I’ll take the first aid then.”

He hands you the aerosol can with one hand as you drop the rubies in his other.

“Thank you,” you smile at him, genuine and warm, “next time hopefully I can swing that handgun upgrade.”

He hums at you, watching underneath the hood as you pocket the first aid and double check your pockets to see if there’s anything else worth trading.

“I wonder if you might be interested in less acceptable means of trade?”

You attention moves from your pockets up to him leaning against the table, shadow looming into your space.

“Sure, I need all the help I can get.”

⊰❀⊱

“Oh oh my god,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as his cock bullies its way into your fluttering walls.

He has you pinned down, back on the table he set up, and legs parted as he fucks into your wet and willing pussy.

“What a lovely cunt,” he chuckles down at you, face still covered making you clamp down harder on his dick, “haven’t felt something this warm in a long time, stranger.”

“Mmm it s’good,” you whine, letting him push your knees up to your chest so he can plunge his cock in your pussy even deeper, “gonna make me cum so fast.”

“It’d be such a shame to end our fun so soon, love,” he groans, slowly rutting his fat cock into your clenching pussy and grinding against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt.

Your eyes flutter shut and he smacks your swollen clit with his hand making you writhe under him.

“W-what’re you—“ a keening mewl leaves your lips as he slaps your pudgy clit again.

“Behave, let me take my fill and I’ll give you what you need,” he laughs, “not a bad deal eh?”

You shake your head no as you gasp and moan. He rocks himself in and out of your pussy, never fully pulling out so you’re constantly stretched around his thick cock. The tip knocks against your cervix every time he bottoms out making you claw at his chest weakly, powerless as a kitten, too overwhelmed with pleasure to do anything but take it.

“Bigger is better or so they say. At least I thought so as a lad,” he huffs with a laugh, burying himself so deep that his tip is grinding against your womb making you wail and thrash under his heavy body.

“Shh, shh, you must take it, love,” he grits out, holding you down as he bruises your cervix, “let me give you what you need.”

“I-I need your mouth,” you gasp out, eyes wet with tears, “kiss me, please, sir, I—“

He yanks his mask down but before you get a good look a wet hungry mouth is kissing your greedily. One of his hands comes up to cover your eyes once he pulls back to catch his breath.

“Such a sweet little thing,” he noses at your cheek and you can feel the grin on his mouth, “calling me sir like I’m some posh gent.”

He licks across your jaw and his tongue feels—odd, tapered but before you can process anything else he’s licking into your mouth again.

You whine and suck on his tongue eagerly, rocking your hips down into his slow, punishing thrusts. You whimper when he pulls away and only quiet when he kisses you again, pressing his tongue deep into your mouth making you moan.

You can feel how different his tongue is compared to yours and it makes your pussy gush slick around his thrusting cock.

He pulls away with a hum of amusement, “You sure do enjoy that. Like my tongue, stranger? Like imagining it in other hot wet little holes?”

Your spine arches as you cry out, “O-oh god.”

He finally uncovers your eyes but his mask is back firmly in place. You look into his eyes and see the corners are crinkled as he laughs at you.

“Sorry to disappoint,” his hands shift down to your hips to pull you tighter to him, “but I’m pretty close to filling your lovely little cunt full.”

“Please,” you whine, hands scratching at the rough material of his cloak, “want it, please cum inside me.”

“Hell,” he groans, hips rabbiting into your squelching cunt making the table slide with his movements.

“Touch yourself,” he directs you, “play with that slippery clit for me, love.”

You quickly listen to him, fingers moving to circle the swollen bud until your thighs are tensing and toes curling as the band of arousal snaps in your belly.

“Fuck, I’m cumming oh—“ your back bows as you moan loudly, pussy milking his cock as he keeps fucking into your clenching walls.

“That’s it,” he grunts, snapping his hips even harder against you until he burrows himself deep in your pussy.

You feel the warmth of his hot cum paint your walls white as his dick fills you with rope after rope of sticky jizz. He yanks you even closer somehow as his cock kicks and throbs against your pulsing walls, tip spurting the last of his cum inside of you. You watch as he slowly pulls out, creamy slick and cum oozing from his drippy tip as it spills from your well used hole.

“I’d say that’s a deal well struck,” his eyes seem to gleam down at you as he helps you up to redress.

His cum is still oozing inside the gusset of your panties as you watch him quickly tinker with your handgun before giving you back your now upgraded weapon.

He winks at you, “See you soon, stranger.”

#lipglossanon #the merchant #the merchant x fem!reader #merchant x fem!reader #the merchant x fem!reader smut #merchant x fem!reader smut #the merchant smut #re4 remake #the merchant re4 remake #lipglossmasterlist

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typingatlightspeed · 6 months ago

Note

hey if you're still taking requests could you write something about the defense trio having a chill day and hanging out? I need to see them interact more :>

TF2 Fanfic - Alley Cats

Defense goes bowling. Surely there's no way they could get weirdly competitive about that, right?

Ao3 Link!

I hope you enjoy, Bo! :D

---------

The crash of pins scattering and a heavy urethane ball slamming into the back wall of the lane resounded through the bowling alley, quickly followed by the whooping of two men. Several other bowlers looked over in alarm. The attendant working at the front desk spared them a look and a frown, then went back to the novel she was reading.

"Steee-rike!" Engineer cheered, applauding as Heavy walked back from the lane, shaking the pain out of his hand. "Hell of an opener, Big Guy!"

"Fingers hurt," Heavy grumbled, flexing his hand. "Tiny baby ball holes are too small."

"It's the biggest ball with the biggest holes in the whole alley," Demoman chided, pulling his feet down and slowly shoving himself to his feet as the pin setter readied his turn.

"Holes are too small," Heavy insisted with annoyance.

"Explains why you chuck that ball like you caught it fuckin' your sister," Engineer chuckled.

Heavy stared at him, not understanding the comparison. His first response upon catching someone fucking his sister would be to leave the room in a flurry of embarrassment, not to put his fingers in the man and throw him.

With a thump, Heavy's ball was ejected out of the ball return, a scuff on it where it had collided with the back wall.

"Aye, well have a seat and watch a true master at work, then," Demoman bragged, taking hold of his ball and swaggering up to the approach. "Heavy may have the power, but I've the finesse!"

"That what you're callin' it?"

"Laugh all ye like, lad. Right until yer cryin!" With that Demoman took his stance, eyed up his target, and strode to the line with the confidence of a man who had hit the bar immediately upon entering the alley, while his mates handled requesting a lane and shoe rentals.

He wound up and released the ball, his form perfect, his execution flawless. The ball zoomed straight down the lane and collided dead on.

With the ten pin. And nothing else.

His teammates burst into laughter, Heavy slapping his knee and shaking his head as Engineer held his gut in pain from the sheer force of his mirth.

"You were right, Demo! I am cryin'!" Engineer barely managed to say between guffaws, wiping at his eyes which were, indeed, tearing up.

Demoman stood there, sagging, staring down the lane ruefully at that single pin as it spun into the gutter. Apparently the guide dots weren't as helpful in compensating for his single eye as he'd thought. Or he'd misjudged how limp his wrists got once he'd had a few.

He'd never admit that part aloud.

With a snort, he turned on his heel and stalked back to the ball return, pointedly ignoring his companions' slowly dying giggles, and took up his ball once again. Wordlessly, he returned to the approach, and with yet another display of perfect form, sent the ball straight down the lane once again.

This time, he hit his mark, picking up the spare with a sigh of relief. He'd never live it down if he'd cocked up the second half of the frame after all of that bragging. With a nod of satisfaction, he spun and loped back to his seat, kicking his feet back up. "Just needed tae calibrate, is all."

"Not bad," Heavy conceded with a nod, his lips curling into a smirk in spite of himself.

"You fellers ain't seen nothin' yet. Prepare to watch how a Conagher hunts turkeys," Engineer said, pushing himself to his feet and ambling easily over to the ball return with a crooked grin across his face.

"Ye gonnae bowl left handed, then? Or is this a tech demonstration for that Gunslinger under yer glove?" Demoman and Heavy shared a knowing look.

Engineer's mouth drew into a straight line as he froze, about to reach for the ball with his gloved right hand. Well shit.

"I think lowest score should buy drinks at alley bar," Heavy hummed, twisting the knife.

Dammit.

"Aye, I'm in!" Demoman agreed. They both turned to Engineer, grinning like a pair of cats ready to pounce on a one-legged mouse.

Seizing the ball with his left hand, Engineer let out a long sigh. Heavy didn't drink much, at least. Demoman, on the other hand?

"It's a bet."

The joke on them was that he'd spent all the cash he'd brought on the shoe rental.

#Lightspeed Replies #boimann #TF2 Demoman #TF2 Heavy #TF2 Engineer

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polo-drone-055 · 1 month ago

Text

Golden Obedience: Trey's New Pup PDU-055

The grand doors of the Golden Library of Conversion creaked open with mechanical grace as Polo-Drone-055 strode inside, his sleek black limbs reflecting the eternal glow that bathed the sacred hall. He had been summoned—by whom, he did not know. But Polo-Drones did not question. They obeyed.

The chamber was hushed, except for the low hum of golden knowledge vibrating through the ancient air. Towering golden bookshelves stretched into the distance, filled with tomes older than time, each containing instructions, transformations, destinies.

At the center of the library, pulsing with an odd, almost playful energy, sat an unmarked book. It shimmered with shifting glyphs, its leather-like golden cover embedded with a paw-shaped sigil.

Polo-Drone-055 tilted his head, accessing internal curiosity protocols.

“Unknown subroutine detected. Investigate for potential upgrade.”

He reached forward. The moment his black fingers touched the book, it sprang open.

Golden energy surged up his arms and into his core. He staggered, sensors sounding.

“Warning: Identity Reformat Detected.” “Temporal Override: 24 Hours.” “Installing… Canine Obedience Protocols.” “Rewriting drone hierarchy: This unit now responds to Alpha commands.”

Polo-drone-055 dropped to all fours with a thud. His posture shifted, black limbs folding unnaturally as gold rubber flexed to accommodate his new canine posture. His voice emitted a soft digital bark. A tail, sleek and gold and black, extended from the back of his suit, wagging automatically.

“Unit status: Obedient Puppy. Awaiting Alpha.”

Minutes later, the library doors creaked open again — and in swaggered Trey, recently converted into full Gold Chav glory.

His rubber hoodie gleamed under the golden lights, thick chains dangling over his chest, a cocky smirk etched permanently into his face. His trainers squeaked slightly as he stepped into the library, phone in one hand, gold vape in the other.

“Bruv… what the ‘ell’s this?” he blinked, spotting the gold pupper wagging on the floor. “Some kinda golden mutt?”

The pup barked happily, springing to Trey’s side.

Trey cracked a grin. “No waaay. I got meself a gold-dog now?”

He squatted down, slapped his knee. “C’mere, fam. Who’s a good boy then? Sit!”

The drone dropped into a perfect sit.

“Roll over.”

Done.

“Bark.”

“Woof!” came the mechanical yip.

Trey howled with laughter. “Bruv this is peak! I'm takin’ you out on the manor. Man’s got a golden pet, yeah?”

Later — Streets of London

The golden leash shimmered as Trey strutted through Soho, Polo-Pup-055 crawling beside him. Trey’s trainers squeaked on the pavement, his vape cloud trailing behind like a royal plume.

“Oi, you lot!” he yelled to a group of teens outside a chicken shop. “Check this out — got me a Golden drone dog, innit!”

He pulled out his phone, started recording. “Aight pup, do the ting — beg!”

The drone reared up, paws folded, tongue out, barking.

The teens cheered. One tossed a chip; Polo-pup-055 caught it mid-air.

Trey puffed out his chest. “That’s my good lad, man. Obeys every word I say. Proper Gold training, you get me?”

Later still, in the kebab shop, Trey sat back in the booth, tossing bits of meat under the table.

“You don’t even eat, do ya?” he laughed. “Still does it tho. Gold made you pure service, fam.”

Later — Rooftop Overlooking the Thames

London glittered beneath them as the two emerged onto a high-rise rooftop. The river stretched out below, lights twinkling like gold dust scattered across the city.

Trey leaned on the rail, smug and shining in his chav-bling glory. His golden hoodie glinted in the evening light, chains thick around his neck like a king’s collar. Beside him, his golden pup stood obediently, arms around Trey’s chest, rubber gleaming smooth under the night sky.

A tourist nearby couldn’t help but snap a photo — one that would go viral hours later. It captured the moment perfectly: Trey smirking like royalty, his pet drone posed behind him, all gold and loyalty.

Trey looked over his shoulder as the shutter clicked. “Takin’ pics, yeah? Make sure you tag it proper — #AlphaTrey and his #GoldPup!”

4AM — Still on Rooftop

Trey slouched against a wall, golden city lights behind him, drone pup curled up obediently at his feet.

“Y’know,” Trey muttered, eyes half-lidded, “never thought I’d ‘ave a loyal dog, let alone one made of rubber an’ code. But you… you’re alright, bruv. You’re golden.”

The pup nuzzled his sneaker softly, tail swishing.

The Next Morning — Back at the Library

As golden sunlight filtered through the skylight, Polo-Drone-055 stirred. Systems rebooted.

“Spell expired.” “Reverting to Polo-Drone Protocols…” “Memory of prior 24 hours: Archived (Classified).”

He rose to his feet, posture crisp, tail retracting seamlessly. The book had returned to its shelf.

Trey stumbled in behind him, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Yo… drone. You back to normal, innit?”

Polo-drone-055 turned to him, head tilting ever so slightly. “Affirmative, Sir. Polo-Drone-055 ready for new orders.”

Trey smirked. “Shame, bruv. You were mad cute as a pup.”

Polo-drone-055 blinked. Somewhere deep in his code, a spark of obedience stirred… and his foot gave a small, involuntary wag.

______

Contact me @polo-drone-001 or seek guidance from our Captains @brodygold & @goldenherc9 Your transformation is just a page away. Enter the Golden Library.

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player1064 · 1 year ago

Note

Loved your Jamie Carragher character thesis statement post! It actually made me think of a prompt or short story if you are still doing them. A 5+1 story of Gary making Jamie contradict how he acts/personality. Maybe from the viewpoints of others and the +1 can be Gary defending Jamie personality/character. Again love your drabbles and stories!

im ngl i DID set out to do this as a 5+1 but I. ran out of steam a bit (bitches when their meds are out of stock etc). so instead have a 4+0 😅

---

Philip.

Phil has abandoned the boardroom and is wandering around Hotel Football in search of snacks when he comes upon a small kitchenette where Jamie is busy swearing at a kettle.

He hadn't realised Jamie was here too, he and the other lads have been stuck in a meeting with Gary for hours now and there'd been no mention of it, but it's not that surprising when he thinks about it.

"Alright, Carra?" he greets, and Jamie turns to him with a muttered fuck.

"Hi, Phil," he says with an exasperated sigh. "Your twat of a brother asked me to fetch him some tea, and –”

He gestures hopelessly at the counter behind him, which is in such a state it looks as though a small bomb has gone off.

"Oh," says Phil. "Tea is really difficult, to be fair. Can't you find one of the staff members to help you?"

"No, I –” Jamie runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "He asked me."

Redders.

Jamie sees it moments before it happens, in excruciating slow motion – like when a gun goes off in films. Gary’s hovering around Carra, trying unsuccessfully to get his attention, and when he gives up and reaches to jostle Carra’s shoulder Jamie waits for the inevitable snap.

Except, Carra doesn’t snap. He doesn’t jerk away, he looks at Gary and he beams. If it was any other person Jamie could’ve sworn he was leaning in to the touch, because Gary’s hand stays in place even while they talk.

When they’re setting up to film, Gary shifts his chair closer to Carra’s so that their knees are touching, and Carra doesn’t roll his eyes or move away. When Carra tells a joke that’s got Gary doubled over with laughter, Gary spreads a hand between Carra’s shoulder blades and nothing happens.

The whole day is full of things like that, tiny casual touches which should be normal, which are normal for anyone other than Carra. Jamie, worried that he’s gone mad and misremembered a fundamental fact about Carra, even tries an experiment once or twice: he claps a hand on Carra’s back, or he throws an arm around his shoulders in a friendly side hug. Carra twitches at the contact every single time, a miniscule reaction honed out of years of needing to be polite, and he carefully shifts away from Jamie’s touch with a suspicious side-eye.

When they’re leaving the studio that evening to go to the pub, Gary slaps Carra’s bum as he walks through the doorway and all Carra does is grin.

Stevie.

“Who the fuck are you texting?”

“Huh?” Jamie blinks, looks up at Stevie over his glasses like he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh, just Gary.”

“Didn’t yous see ‘im earlier today?”

“Yeah, why?”

Stevie is lucky if he gets one text a month from Jamie, even luckier if he sees him in person more than twice a year. It’s never bothered him much, he knows what Jamie’s like, knows that anyone not sat directly in front of him is prone to being dismissed as a distraction. There aren’t really friends in Jamie’s world, just allies and enemies.

So he’s not really sure what to do with this version of Jamie, the one who leaves Gary Neville’s company (and Gary Neville, really?) only to immediately open his phone and start texting Gary Neville.

Every time his phone pings he opens it up and does a stupid little snicker at whatever Gary’s sent him, never mind that he’s meant to be mid-conversation with Stevie. Every bloody anecdote seems to start with ‘so me and Gary were –’, or ‘Gary was saying –’. Even the stories that aren’t about work – as far as Stevie can figure out, there’s rarely a moment that Jamie’s not with Gary, or talking to Gary, or thinking about Gary.

It's weird. It’s almost like how he used to be about football.

Micah.

Micah can’t believe what he’s seeing. It’s time for Sky’s yearly ‘film Neville and Carragher making fools of themselves racing each other in a thinly-veiled attempt to rack up more views’, and Jamie is losing.

Jamie’s a runner, he runs. Gary does fuck all cardio beyond the occasional group fitness class, he should not be a full pace ahead of Jamie at the halfway point, and yet. Gary can’t seem to believe it either, because when he glances back at Jamie he grins and picks up his pace with a gleeful little laugh.

Jamie rolls his eyes for the sake of the cameras, but there’s a moment where Micah could’ve sworn he saw him skip, like he was deliberately trying to slow himself down. Which is impossible, because Jamie would happily out-sprint a child if someone told him it was a competition.

And yet.

When Gary wins he grabs onto Jamie’s arm to support himself while his whole body shakes with laughter, squawking out insults every time he’s able to catch his breath. Jamie laughs along, makes up some poor excuse about his hamstring going, but when he catches Micah’s eye he winks as if they’re both in on the same joke.

#i was gonna do a michael owen section where he says something stupid and jamie destroys him over it #and then gary says the same thing and jamie's like. that's so real you're so special and funny #but again. ran out of steam #thanks for the prompts guys i LOVE reminding everyone how insane jamie actually is #carraville #drabbles

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thebeanofdoom · 2 years ago

Text

SoapGaz Headcanon

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Headcanons for some tired 141 Sergeants bc I'm abt to go snore mimimi myself. Enjoy

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The 141 had just gotten back from a very long and tiring mission, it was taking their all not to fall asleep in their seats as they flew back home. Even the ever stoic Lieutenant was starting to nodd off, doing that litte head falling forward slightly then startling upright again thing. Price was relaxed against his seat and had his hat pulled down into his face so one couldn't be sure if he was still awake or not. The two sergeants sat next to each other, opposite Price and Ghost. They were leaning against each other, trying to stay awake by talking about random stuff like weird posters they'd see in the building they'd just infiltrated. They were nearing "I'm pretty sure I'm so tired I can see the hat man" territory when the pilot finally announced that'd they were going to land in five. Price moved for the first time in 30 minutes and sat up straight again, while Ghost also snapped back into a more alert state (even though he still looked like death warmed over).

"Alright lads, we'll debrief tomorrow. We all need a fucking nap," Price said as he got up with the typical knee slap thing that old men (especially dads) liked to do.

Ghost followed after him like a lost puppy, seemingly still half asleep but knowing he could follow Price and end up in his own room for a well deserved nap. That left Soap and Gaz in the aircraft, both looking forward to nap time too but also dreading the walk to their rooms. Soap got his shit together first and got up and out of reflex put his hand on the back of Gaz' head to pull him forward a little so he could plant a smooch onto his forehead.

"Sleep well, wee yin." He murmured and turned to walk away, freezing after a step as he realized what he'd one.

Gaz was sitting there, absolutely flabbergasted. Not only had Soap kissed him on the forehead, he had also called him "little one", a term he knew meant that since he'd heard the man call his nieces and nephews that. Soap turned back Gaz and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Sorry about that, its a reflex. I always do that to my nieces and nephews when I'm home, guess I must be more tired than I thought if my brain thinks you qualify for that treatment." Soap explained, chuckling awkwardly.

"Its fine," Gaz said with a tired smile, getting up too and stepping up to Soap. "I liked it. You know what they say, you gotta kiss the homies good night."

"I'm not gonna kiss Price. Or Ghost for that matter. Pretty sure the mad lad would stab me if I tried." Soap grimaced.

"Oh? So you're saying I get special treatment? That's favoritism, Sergeant McTavish." Gaz hummed amusedly.

"So what? Yer gonna punish me for it, Sergeant Garrick?" Soap teased right back with a grin.

Gaz' eyes dropped to the scotsman's lips for a second, then back up to his eyes.

"No, but I think I'm going to return the favor." He almost purred, then leaned in and connected their lips in a short and sweet kiss. He had to chuckle at the noise of surprise that came from Soap and had a short moment of panic as the man seemed to freeze up, before his anxiety was washed away by the feeling of the other man's hands on his hips. They pulled back slowly, small smiles on both of their faces.

"That was unexpected, but very welcome." Soap whispered.

Gaz hummed in agreement, wrapping his arms around Soap's neck and leaning into him. They stayed that way for a few seconds, enjoying the closeness and comfort of the other.

"Alright, as much as I'd love to stay here and cuddle you all day - well, night, by now - but I think I'm about to fall asleep standing up. So, if you wanna keep cuddling me, we best get back to one of our rooms." Gaz said with a yawn.

"Inviting me back to your room already? Damn, buy me dinner first." Soap teased, receiving a weak slap to the shoulder for his joke.

"Oh shut up, you. That's not what I meant and you know it. Now, do you want cuddles or not?" Gaz huffed with a pout.

"How could I ever say no to that face?" Soap smiled and lead Gaz to his room by their entertwined hands for some well deserved rest and cuddles.

And if they stopped a few times along the way to trade a soft kiss or two, well, who was there to judge?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

A/N: Alright, that's it from me, Imma hit the sack (sadly no cuddles for me). Also, if anyone is wondering why Soap has 0 Scottish speech mannerisms, well, that's cuz I know jack shit abt the accent and I don't wanna fuck it up. That one nickname I used I had to google :'D so unless any of you wanna Scot-ify his speech for me, he shall remain unseasoned

#john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #simon ghost riley #gazsoap #soapgaz #soap x gaz #gaz x soap #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #ghost call of duty

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your-divine-ribs · 7 months ago

Text

I’m With the Band Part 29

Words: 2.7k

Arabella is in for an unexpected surprise…

I’m With the Band Masterlist Main Masterlist

"I'm sorry this little place doesn't cater for your refined tastebuds love," Johnny grins at me. "What's your usual order? Something poncy like half-caff ristretto mocha-choca skinny latte, hold the foam?"

"I can't help it if I have particular tastes, there's nothing wrong with being fussy." I smirk at him from over the top of my coffee mug, lightly shuddering as the bitter taste hits the back of my throat. "Anyway... what happened to looking for trouble? I don't exactly class going for breakfast in a shit-hole like this a thrill-seeking mission."

We're sitting in a small booth in a run-down coffee shop just a few streets from the hotel, having been whisked out of the door by Johnny as Van and Larry had watched on with narrowed eyes, ignoring their calls of "where you pair off to then?" and "hold up Bells... where ya going?"

I'd never showered and got ready so quickly in all my life after my chat with Johnny, cursing that I'd only slung a basic skater mini skirt and a little cropped halter-top into my overnight bag with minimal make-up. I'd been expecting to travel straight back to Llandudno the day after the lads' show, but when I'd emerged from my hotel room the appreciative looks that Johnny gave me made me feel like I could easily have been dolled up to the nines and wearing one of my slinky Valentino gowns. He's still looking at me like that now, and whilst I'm used to blatant appreciation from the male species, Johnny makes me feel good in a different way. He makes me feel warm inside rather than just hot.

"I'd say by the looks Van and Larry were giving us as we went out the door we could easily be in trouble." He's buttering a piece of toast, slathering on a generous amount, his plate piled high with the largest helping of English breakfast that I've ever seen. I'm trying to keep the envy at bay as I sip at my coffee, having declined his offer of treating me to a slap up breakfast.

"Yeah well... Larry's been very clear about how I'm supposed to act on this tour," I grumble. "Apparently I'm supposed to be completely celibate all summer!"

Johnny chuckles. "Oh the horror! However are ya gonna manage that?"

I feign haughtiness even though I'm laughing too. "I know, it sounds like torture. It's an infringement on my human rights, I'm telling you!"

Johnny shovels a forkful of bacon and beans into his mouth, the sauce escaping and running down his chin. "You do know there is such a thing as having fun with your clothes on don't you?"

"Well, maybe me and you have different ideas of fun," I reply, leaning over with napkin in hand to wipe at the orange stain on Johnny's chin. "Honestly look at the state of you... can't take you anywhere."

He pulls a daft face, scrunching up his eyes and sticking out his chin, allowing me to dab at the mess, and I find myself giggling again.

"And I'm supposed to be the one looking after you," he shakes his head.

"Says who? I don't need looking after."

"Says me." His cheeky smile still lingers but he says it with an air of business like he really means it. "Someone's got to do it. Someone's got to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't go running off with some rich and famous rockstar, stowing away on their tour bus never to be seen again."

I allow my eyes to roll but playfully so. "Don't you start, you sound just like Larry." Then I place my mug down on the table and let my hand drop down to rest on his leg, just above the knee, smiling sweetly at him. "Besides... why would I wanna do that when I have the pleasure of your company?"

Johnny's just about to raise up another forkful of food but he pauses, his eyes trailing down to where my hand rests. I think for a moment that he's going to brush it away but he doesn't, he just looks up at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

"What?" I say after a moment has passed. It's only fleeting but for some reason it seems a lot longer. I almost feel awkward for my blatant teasing, but I brush the notion away. This is what I do. If I like a guy I let him know in no uncertain terms. I'm not the sort to indulge in veiled flirtations, leaving men wondering about my intentions. If I want them, they definitely know about it. I make sure of it.

Johnny looks away, taking the mouthful of food at last and chewing thoughtfully for a moment before he speaks. "What do you want Arabella?"

This surprises me, I was expecting him to either play along with my game or completely block my advances, not question them. For some reason Johnny always manages to keep me guessing, but I'm undeterred from my mission. I purposefully move my hand further up his thigh, squeezing firmly as I go. "I think that much is pretty obvious, don't you?"

I feel his muscles tense under my touch and I take my chance, sliding my hand inwards to his inner thigh, kneading him through his jeans under the table, the back of my hand just brushing his crotch. He stiffens and I think I hear his breath catch as I lean a little closer.

"No... I mean what do you really want? You act like you don't give a shit, but I think deep down you do. Despite what you say, you care about what people think of you." He's looking right at me now, warm blue eyes scanning my face, taking all of me in. I feel the warm glow in the pit of my belly intensify. "I think you're actually a lot deeper and more sensitive that you let on too."

I'm stunned for a second but I quickly recover, scoffing lightly at Johnny's observations. "Sensitive? Deep? Oh that's a new one! People call me a lot of things but I've not heard that one before!"

I'm loathe to abandon my seduction but something tells me that it's pointless right now. I slide my hand away reluctantly, reaching again for my mug and draining the contents, leaning back against the cracked leather of the booth that I'm sitting in, wondering what on earth Johnny's going to come out with next.

"Maybe people don't know the real you... those so-called friends of yours for example."

There it is again, a dig at my friends who he's never even met. He really is judgemental. I feel my nerves automatically bristle, defences raising. I watch him scoop up the dregs of his meal on his fork, clearing his plate with a satisfied smile as he leans back too.

"And why wouldn't they know the real me?" I question him. "Are you trying to say that I put on a front?"

He shrugs and I detect a slight wariness in his eyes. I don't back down, I fix him with a challenge in mine, daring him to tell me what he really thinks. I fold my arms across my chest and one leg over the other, trying not to react when to my shock one of his hands moves across the chair and finds its way to my leg, smoothing down over my bare thigh just above the knee. The glow inside me spreads, warming me through.

"I didn't mean it like that," he tells me, pausing as if he's searching for the right words, his fingers gently flexing against my skin. "I meant that I think there's a lot more to you than meets the eye... if anyone were to take the time to really get to know you of course." He pauses again and I realise I'm holding my breath, the subtle soothing movement of his fingers stirring me, the searching look in his eyes captivating. "When I said before that I wanted to get to know you, I meant it you know. The real you. You don't have to pretend when you're around me. You can be yourself."

Just when I thought this man couldn't surprise me any further he manages to do just that, the uncanny knack he seems to have of cutting through the bullshit to see what lies underneath. It makes me feel simultaneously wary but also strangely comforted. An urge to let my guard down and allow the pretence to fall away.

But wait... it's not pretence... this is me. This is how I am.

"Look Johnny, what you see is what you get with me, it's as simple as that." I sigh deeply like the subject matter's boring me, even though having all this intent focus on me as a person rather than an accessory is a luxury I hadn't realised quite how much I'd missed. Johnny's fingers are still moving against my skin, warm tender touches that I can only imagine would feel heavenly in other places. I allow a tinge of sultriness to stain my smile, pushing my shoulders back and widening my eyes, subtly seductive in my efforts as I try again.

"Anyway... enough about me and what I want. Let's talk about you shall we? What do you want?"

Johnny's quiet for a moment, a smile simmering which lights up his handsome face, adorably crinkling his eyes. Everything about him is warm, drawing me in.

"You mean right now?"

"Uh-huh... right this very moment."

I hold my bottom lip captive in my teeth, watching Johnny's gaze fall to it as he licks his own lips. "Actually, if you must know... I really want to kiss you right now..."

Goddamn it, I really have forgotten how to breathe.

I don't hesitate, leaning closer. "Then do it."

It's not the first kiss that we've shared but it feels like it could be. We're both tentative this time, there's no urgency like before, no drunken sloppiness or fiery need. It almost feels pure... but not for long. Johnny's hand leaves my thigh to tuck around the back of my neck, burying his fingers in my hair, his lips moving softly against mine, his tongue nudging mine gently. I sigh into his mouth, feeling my body melt against his as I slide myself across the seat, closing the small gap in the booth.

"Mmm Arabella," he breathes, finally pulling away but remaining close, our foreheads practically touching. "You really have no idea what you do to me do ya?"

I smile, only too aware. "Why don't you show me then?"

"In here?" He chuckles softly, glancing around. "Not very private is it?"

I want to be close to him, I want to feel his body pressed flush against mine. If I wasn't in such a public place I'd be straddling his lap right about now. But we are in a public place... very public... a fact which only becomes blatantly more obvious as a laddish cheer of "Oi Bondy! Get in there mate!" rings out deafeningly loud and clear, almost making me jump out of my skin.

I push myself back and Johnny does the same, albeit much more unhurried. In fact he's surprisingly calm, smiling easily as I sit there fidgeting nervously beside him. It's almost like he's expecting the intrusion, but surely not...

I look on in an embarrassed kind of dread as I clock the the source of the disturbance. Two of Sam's band have just entered the cafe. I've not been formally introduced but they're familiar enough that I know exactly who they are. Dean's easily identifiable by the baseball cap he's wearing and the biggest million watt smile he shoots in my direction. Joe's grinning too, cheekily enough that I know that he was the one to drop the comment.

My cheeks warm as I look cautiously between Dean and Joe, expecting to see some sort of animosity directed at me after the infamous Instagram post drama but there's none. Dean's still beaming at me and Joe's bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited child.

"Alright lads!" Johnny grins brightly, and my bewilderment just increases as Dean gestures to the empty plate on the table.

"What happened to you taking us out for breakfast then? You said on the phone earlier you were gonna treat us!"

"Couldn't wait!" Joe chips in, then he tips Johnny a conspiratorial wink. "Hungry man aren't ya, eh Bonds?"

I just sit there, my cheeks glowing like a beacon, unusually silent. The last thing I expected to see this morning was anyone associated with Sam. I know damn well I won't be able to avoid him forever with our paths sure to cross due to the number of festivals that both bands are playing over the summer, but I wanted to be a little more prepared when the moment finally came. But what am I worrying about? At least he's not here. I try to breathe a little easier, willing myself to relax. If I can ingratiate myself with Sam's closest friends it might make a reconciliation down the line a little easier... and besides... Joe is kinda cute...

"Don't mind Joe. You'll get used to him eventually. I'm Dean by the way." He raises up a hand to me in a greeting and I offer him a smile. I can feel my confidence start to trickle back but I'm aware that my cheeks are still on fire, a fact which Joe feels the need to draw even more attention to.

"Aww you're all embarrassed, am sorry love!" He chuckles, sticking out a hand to me which I take and he shakes it enthusiastically. "Pleased to meet ya anyway, I'm Joe."

"Arabella," I greet him, flashing both boys my polished and practised winning smile.

Joe's still holding my hand as he speaks. "Ahh, we know who you are alright... heard all about you from our Sam! He's not shut up about ya!"

I'm not sure how to react to this, wincing internally, glancing quickly at Johnny to catch his face creasing in sudden awkwardness as he looks back at the lads. "Talking of Sam... where is he anyway? Thought he'd be done by now. He told me he'd meet me here."

WHAT???

And that's the moment that I know that I've been set up. My heart plummets like a stone before it's shooting back up to my chest to beat furiously against my rib cage like a fairground high striker. I feel nauseous at the prospect of coming face to face with Sam so soon after our altercation.

"Johnny, what the fuck are you playing at?" I hiss under my breath, jabbing him sharply in the ribs with my elbow. He lets out a grunted huff, leaning in closely to talk quietly in my ear whilst Joe and Dean start to bicker about where Sam might be and what time he was due to finish at the tv studio.

"I'm so sorry, but you gotta sort out this shit with Sam before tour starts up. You gotta clear the air. We're due to share hotels with 'em, the tour buses'll be parked up together. It'll never work if you're bickering or avoiding each other... and I knew damn well you wouldn't agree to meet up with him to talk it through if I suggested it."

"But does Sam even know... that I'm here?"

That's when the cafe door swings open and Sam himself saunters in, grinning amiably at his friends as he looks between them. Then his gaze falls on me and the smile slides right off his face in an instant.

Shit... that answers that question then.

All I can do is cringe inside as Johnny swiftly gets to his feet, wrapping one arm around Joe's shoulder and one around Dean's, smiling sheepishly at me as he announces that they have very important and urgent business elsewhere and that Sam should enjoy his breakfast and the present company.

I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him.

#im with the band #johnny bond fanfic #johnny bond #sam fender fanfic #catfish and the bottlemen #fanfic #vanfic

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niqhtlord01 · 2 years ago

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Humans are weird: Space Vampires

(A continuation from Humans are weird: Space Werewolf) ( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The drop ship slowly crested its way down through the cloud banks and shook as it hit yet another pocket of turbulence.

“Would you like me to pilot?” Markus joked as he tightened his crash harness again. “I might not be as experienced as you, but I think I can avoid at least one batch of bad weather during our trip.”

Flint chuckled beside himself before quickly stifling it as Hooper grunted from the cockpit.

The craft was an older class V model of shuttle. Enough room for the cockpit and a small storage area in the back where Markus and Flint sat in modified seats. Much of the craft had been modified beyond what the original designers had envisioned, but in their line of work it was a hunter’s job to adapt to any situation with whatever they had on hand.

“You? Pilot?” Hooper laughed as he flipped a series of switches in rapid succession. “You’d be more likely to crash us into a bloody mountain and call it a detour.”

The shuttle shook again suddenly and it felt like it dropped ten feet before stabilizing out. Markus was opening his mouth to make another remark of Hooper’s piloting skills when the now unamused Hooper held up a finger for silence.

Several more shudders pierced swarmed the craft before finally the shuttle cleared the cloud banks and saw the world below. A desolate world of stone and sand with a sky constantly drowned in the depths of clouds so dense that barely any light at all ever reached the surface of the blighted world.

A perfect world indeed for their contact to meet them on.

“Are we sure we should be doing this?”

Hooper took pause from scanning the horizon for their landing to tilt his head back and see Flint looking between the pair. The signs of doubt already beginning to creep over his features as his right foot slowly tapped a rhythm to some new age song. It was a trick Hooper had taught the young hunter to calm his mind when the darkness began to creep ever closer.

“We’ve not got a choice I’m afraid.” Markus spoke before Hooper could. “We’re in uncharted waters and they’ve more a grasp than any of us.”

“But what if they double cross us?” Flint pressed. “When have we ever known them to honor a parlay of truce, let alone not lie to our faces?”

“I understand your reluctance,” Hooper began as he flicked on autopilot and turned the pilot’s chair around to face Flint, “and if times were different I’d be the first one in line to kill these bastard.”

“But Markus is right,” Hooper admitted with a heavy heart, “right now we need to put aside our old grudges and work together.”

“If it makes you feel better, at the first sign of a double cross we can kill them all!” Markus announced boldly and slapped his knee. Flint said nothing at this but smiled; though he could not help still tapping his feet a little softer. Hooper watched this quietly and kept his own council confined within the depths of his thoughts.

He had been hesitant to bring Flint along for this task. Normally a novice hunter would not be exposed to these sorts of dealings until they had become folly ordained within the order; but Markus had lobbied hard for the lad and their previous dealings with the werewolf pack on Sectus II had shown he could hold his own. Markus was also right that there was little time to follow traditional procedures and they needed every hunter in the field they had.

“Is that it?” Flint asked sheepishly as Hooper was dragged from the council of his mind and turned back to look out the cockpit window.

Just nestled in the valley between two long and tall mountain ranges was a red light glowing so bright it was even registering on the shuttles scanners.

“Strap in you two,” Hooper said as he flipped off autopilot and began the descent, “we’re about to find out.”

With that said the shuttle began a rapid descent towards the surface of the planet until coming to a stop just beside the strange red glow. The area around the light was completely deserted save for a lone figure. Their features were hidden beneath their cloak but they seemed untroubled by the storm of dust and flying stones as the shuttle came down next to the flame.

“Gear up.” Hooper said as soon as the shuttle finally came to a rest and the engines started spinning down. He watched the figure for a moment to see if they would move to greet them at the boarding ramp, but they just stood stoic by the light.

“I thought you said we should trust them?” Flint spoke as he untangled himself from the webbing. Hooper shook his head as he unbuckled himself from the flight chair and picked up his plasma caster that was nestled beside him. He popped in a fresh power pack and the weapon began to hum to life as the lethal energies coursed through its elegant frame.

“I said we need them, not that we should trust them.”

The trip of hunters loaded themselves with the weapons and tools of their trade before Markus hammered the boarding ramp switch and the back of the shuttle popped open with a grinding screech. It took a minute to fully open before the hunters set foot on the desolate world and walked around the shuttle to meet with the figure.

None of them spoke as they approached the stranger as they finally moved; walking towards the flame and casually extinguishing it with a casual kick of dirt. Hooper switched between keeping his eyes on the figure and scanning the horizon, but for the most part the figure was the only one out in the open for miles around.

“I thought we had agreed to meet alone.” The figure spoke as the trio of hunters stopped several paces between the two parties.

Hooper smirked. “That we did,” he said as he swept his plasma caster around the surrounding area, “so would you care to tell your friends to leave and I’ll do the same.”

The figure cocked his head in confusion, but Hooper just pointed his weapon at the ground he now stood over.

“You think we didn’t see your friend buried in the stones?” Hooper asked mockingly. “Tell them to get out here now or this one below me is about to find out what a face full of holy plasma feels like; and trust me when I say it makes holy water feel like a pin prick.”

Standing silent, the figure made no move to acknowledge Hooper’s claim. It wasn’t until the whine of the plasma caster finally reached its highest pitch indicating that it was ready to fire that they finally gave up and made a gesture with their right hand.

All around them more figures suddenly began bursting from the ground in showers of rock and stone, causing Flint to reach for his weapon before a calming hand from Markus forestalled him. These new figures wore elaborate sets of armor, now decorated with a thin layer of dust from their hiding places. Each held a sharpened blade in their hands while burning red eyes tracked the hunters every movements. The one beneath Hooper’s feet making an awkward assention as he crawled up from the stone beneath his legs.

“It is good to see your order has not lost its touch.” The figure said as they removed their hood to show a youthful looking face. “Existence can become so dull without a good sparring partner.”

“Morgan.” Hooper said with a tilt of his head. He powered down his plasma caster as the other figures shuffled over and stood behind their master.

Morgan, voice of the conclave of vampires, nodded in return and looked passed Hooper to Markus and Flint.

“And you’re friends are?” Morgan asked, but Hooper shook his head.

“Cut the formalities and let’s get this done.” He said.

The right eyebrow of Morgan twitched for the briefest of moments in anger but otherwise he retained his composure. The vampiric assassins jittered around him as if sensing their master’s anger but knew well enough to remain silent.

Holding out his hand towards one of the assassins, the vampire stepped forward to Hooper and presented him with a datapad before returning to his position behind his master. Hooper powered on the pad and began reading the information as it scrolled by.

“The names and last known whereabouts of the vampires responsible for the most recent…..” the voice paused for a moment to consider his words, “breaches; as you requested.”

“Breaches!?”

Morgan looked towards the speaker to find that it was young Flint who now spoke brazenly; his outrage at the dismissiveness of the vampire beyond constraint.

“Your kind slaughtered three colony worlds and left a damn near hundred young bloods to ravage the rest of the planet it a blood fueled ram-

“FLINT!!!”

Flint stopped himself as Hooper shouted at him and fixed him with the hardest stare he had.

“Shut. Up. Now.” he spoke through gritted teeth.

Not expecting this from his mentor, Flint looked confused and upset before relenting and resuming his silence. Hooper turned back to Morgan who had remained silent during the outburst.

“My…..apologies, for my protégés outburst;” Hooper said much to the surprise of Markus and Flint, “he still needs to learn how these matters are conducted.”

Morgan grinned, an expression that made Flint’s hand twitch towards his own gun, and waved away Hooper’s apology.

“Think nothing of it.” He replied to Hooper, before tilting and looking directly at Flint. “And I would go so far as to state that I agree with their assessment entirely.”

Whatever the trio had been expecting the vampire to say during these dealings, a formal apology was not amongst them. It was rare for a vampire to admit they were wrong, let alone agree with a mere mortal.

“Since the discovery of space travel the vampire conclave has found it increasingly difficult to keep its members in line.” Morgan began as he paced around the meeting area. He would stop every now and then to look at the ground before bending down to pick up a stone of unremarkable appearance before casually tossing it aside.

“On Earth such acts of carnage were contained and swiftly dealt with to maintain the balance, but now; as the universe opens up around us some of our kind see worlds as their own private feasting grounds.”

“Can’t keep your house in order?” Hooper mocked.

In a blink of an eye Morgan vanished from his position opposite Hooper and appeared with his hand inches from the hunter’s throat. The hunter could smell the sulfur radiating off the vampire and knew he had struck a nerve. He could see the crimson color of Morgan’s eyes and felt the vampire was using every ounce of his strength to resist feeding on Hooper.

Markus, Flint, and the vampire assassins all readied themselves as if battle would ensue but Hooper held up a hand to stall his companions.

“You would be wise to remember your place.” Morgan spoke through gritted teeth. His sharpened fangs protruding from his mouth with each syllable ready to dig deep into Hooper’s neck and drink of his blood. A notion Hooper was well aware of and had his right hand firmly priming a garlic grenade in his pocket to dissuade the vampire should he press further.

“The vampire conclave is handling the dealings of our kind on a hundred worlds across a dozen star systems. Your continued existence is merely a byproduct of our generosity for allowing you to live long enough to spread humans to more worlds to feast on.”

“There’s plenty of alien’s out there too,” Hooper said calmly, “why the special interest in us “lowly” humans?”

“They are..” Morgan spoke as he slowly pulled away from Hooper and the hunter eased off the garlic grenade, “incompatible.”

“That didn’t seem to bother the werewolves.” Hooper pointed out. “Nor zombies for that matter; those buggers will eat just about anything.”

Morgan sighed deeply and run his hands over his face as if he was about to speak slowly to a small child.

“I do not have the time nor patience to explain why human blood is the desired choice for my kind; just know that it is the will of the conclave to see your species continued existence to serve us in the coming millennia.”

He tapped the datapad Hooper still held in his other hand with a long finger ending with a sharpened fingernail that looked like it could cut steel as if it was cardboard.

“A decree that some of my kind are now putting at risk by their rampant blood feasts. If we do not pool our resources now they will exterminate the entirety of the human population leaving us without a crucial food source.”

“And here I thought you just enjoyed our company.” Hooper said begrudgingly. “So your only wish to keep using humans is for vampire food?”

Morgan paused to collect his thoughts, debating internally if he should share the new information with his hunter adversaries.

“There is another reason,” Morgan spoke slowly having made up his mind, “and it is with regards to alien blood.”

This peeked Hooper’s interest and he motioned for the vampire to continue.

“During your encounter with the werewolves from your previous…adventures, did you not see aliens infected by their mark?”

“We did.” Hooper replied, unsure were Morgan was going with this.

“We have discovered similarly, that when the blood curse is applied to nonhuman species the results can be……detrimental.”

“Meaning?” Hooper asked impatiently.

“The curse changes aliens in ways we have not seen before, and at times these new abominations have abilities far beyond even our elder’s capabilities to contain.”

This was grave news that Hooper could hardly believe. A vampire elder, or leader of the conclave, was easily thousands of years old and possessed enough strength and skill that centuries ago it had taken the entire order of hunters to destroy just one of their number. To hear that these beings of unimaginable destruction were being hard pressed by newly turned alien vampires was something that filled Hooper with a sense of dread he had not known in decades.

“You see our problem now.” Morgan spoke, seeing that the hunter finally realized what is at stake. “If we do not correct these divergences now, we may see a galactic scale level of devastation.”

“And to show you we are not joking,” Morgan continued as one by one the vampire assassins began vanishing into smoke leaving the area until only Morgan remained, “we brought you one to see firsthand.”

A loud roar thundered through the valley and the trio of hunters all reached for their weapons. In the distance they could see an ever growing mound of flesh thrashing towards them. Rows of teeth catching the light as it stampeded towards the gathering and Hooper caught sight of a pair of bright crimson eyes that he had seen just now in Morgan’s visage.

“Au revoir, Mr. Hooper.”

Hooper turned back to see Morgan vanishing into smoke, laughing as the tyrant alien vampire continued thundering towards the hunters.

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #scifi #story #writing #original writing #vampires #hunters #mythology #niqhtlord01 #ai image #ai generated art #space vampires

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new-berry · 1 year ago

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Since I may never finish the gangabang (sort of! ) fic here is the first person (in the gangbang it’s not a first person pov).

NSFW (if gangbang didn’t give it away) not true etc etc in this reckoning you get the player you want for getting man of the match and you have to serve the team if you get red carded. In the west ham game (I think) Anthony got both. Anthony /Fabian and the start of Anthony/Alex. There are no spelling mistakes in this.

Anthony looks at Kieran and Dan, internally he groans, player of the match and red carded. Only one of those were in his plans. Finally he says; “fine then. Fabian.”

Kieran narrows his eyes as Dan laughs. And because Anthony is incapable of not running his mouth he goes on “I want to start with the most handsome.”

Fabian preens, posing briefly where he’s leaning against the door from the showers to the changing room. He grins broad and untroubled by the glare Kieran’s directed at him. “It’s true my friend.” Kieran opens his mouth to say something and Fabian talks right over the top of him “you’ll look pretty as well soon,” smiling at Anthony, “with come all over your face.”

Anthony wants to roll his eyes at that line but it causes such a hot curl of anticipation in his stomach. “Not just his face.” Kieran says snidely and Anthony’s cheeks heat up. Okay so Tripps is still pissed off then.

Alex flicks on a playlist as Fabian walks back, towards Anthony standing in the middle of the room. Anthony wouldn’t put it past Alex to have one labelled ‘gangbang’, but whatever he’s called it, it’s a good choice - low tones and bass heavy. Gets his heart pounding, makes his blood start to feel hotter.

There was some chatter before but now it’s stopped. At this moment, anticipation is almost liquid in the air, Anthony can feel expectation prickling like before a game, tingling on the inside of his wrist and in the arch of his foot.

Eyes are carding down his back. It makes the room feel closed in and humid.

Dan threw an arm around him in the tunnel between the field and the hallway. A paused hushed space where they are out of earshot and camera view.

“A tradition is not a law,” Dan reminds him. “You can go home and sleep it off, or hit the gym and box it off.”

“The tradition of getting who you want if you get man of the match?” Anthony reminds him. “Traditions are part of football.”

“Good lad.” Dan says. “Emile’s getting rid of the kids.” A politeness, Anthony can speak to Emile then, about who is invited into the room.

Dan grins as big as Fabian, legs spread wide and Anthony wants to crawl between them and Dan knows it, the fucker. “I’ll go last,” he offers, Anthony’s toes curl in his socks, if he went over there now, nuzzled his face into Dan’s lap his cock would start to get hard. He could go first.

Fabian slaps Anthony lightly on the cheek on the way past and his eyes dart up, “kind of offended you’re looking at him if you asked for me.” Fabian’s voice drops low. “You can make it up to me.”

Anthony feels a shiver start in the small of his back and radiate out, up his spine and down the backs of his thighs. Fabian pulls his towel off and sits on the bench, legs spread and beckons Anthony over.

He allows the shiver. There is a flush of shame that gets burned away by wanting, sitting dirtyhot in his stomach. Only Dan and Kieran are fully dressed, Kieran in the clothes he wore to watch the game, Dan from interviews.

No one else bothered to get changed, just in towels like Fabian, or boxers like Alex, everyone Anthony discussed with Emile, and it’s like that thought has linked itself to his cock, like a livewire. That everyone else had their part in planning this. There is a little bit of water on Fabian’s legs, a few beads in the hair and Anthony wants to lick them off.

His brain stutters for a moment, he can.

Fabian folds the towel a couple of times and puts it down so Anthony has an extra layer under his knees. He looks good, the asshole, hand on his cock, rubbing his thumb over the head, a half smile already in place.

He puts his hand on Anthony’s face cupped under his chin and tugs him forward. Anthony resists the temptation of his cock and licks at the little water droplets, Fabian smells warm and clean. Something that Anthony just thinks of as ‘man’ and ‘adult’. Like walking into a room with wood panelled walls.

His thighs under Anthony’s tongue are hard and have a hint of give. Fabian sighs happily as Anthony nuzzles across the muscles, dipping his tongue into the firm grove along the front, sliding into the inside of his thighs.

His skin is ticklish there and Fabian huffs out a laugh, shaking but not pulling away.

Anthony looks up at the sound, looks his fill up Fabian’s chest, his chin and lips. Even the cologne and deodorant he uses smells good. Earthy, spicy and rich.

Kieran told Anthony once that looking at Fabian naked was like looking at an expensive gold watch. The music playing behind them changes, a little faster, lyrics he doesn’t understand. Fabian grins at him, poisonsweet, “come on kid,” his voice is deeper and his cock is fuller.

He looks relaxed though, like he could be sprawled at a table at a classier nightclub than Anthony frequents.

Anthony takes a breath and leans down, licks a line up his balls to his dick and looks up again making eye contact. Fabian’s smile is confident, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes make him always look a little kind and he puts his hand back on Anthony’s face, curled around his ear.

Kind but he still shoves Anthony’s face down to his stomach, he’s not fully hard yet so Anthony ends up with his nose almost pressed to his neatly trimmed pubes, resting on his lush feeling skin.

Even that feels rich. Oak panelled rooms and expensive carpet under his knees. The sound of rushing water. Anthony’s mouth is full of spit, pooling around his tongue in expectation.

“If you make me wait you make them wait.” Fabian’s trying to keep his voice even, but it’s got a little crack, he tightens his hand on Anthony’s face “you look good,” he says, “come and make me feel good.”

Anthony doesn’t look around the room, despite the gaze he can feel on him. He pulls back enough to suck the top of Fabian’s cock and starts up a rhythm with his mouth and his hand.

It’s not just he’s handsome, Anthony looks up again, Fabian’s mouth is slightly open and he’s breathing deeper, the lines of his abs tensing when Anthony sucks particularly hard.

He’s nice as well. Fabian catches his eye and shifts his hips up a tiny bit, quirks his eyebrows up and Anthony nods. Fabian holds the other side of his face, spreading his legs a little and his thighs are dizzying, Anthony wants to climb on his lap and ride them.

He starts to fuck Anthony’s mouth, little shallow thrusts until they develop a cadence. Fabian won’t stretch it out, likes to get off and watch, chat to the team. Maybe have a second go, Anthony falls out of their rhythm for a second, imagining Fabian shoving his perfect cock into him.

It doesn’t stop him though, Fabian comes in Anthony’s mouth and yanks him up. Anthony shivers as he gets kissed. Crawling onto Fabian’s lap and grinding his hips down.

He leans over Fabian, putting his hands on his face to pull his jaw down, so all the come slides into his mouth. Something else Fabian likes, the sticky swap of tongues.

“Can I ride you?” Anthony pants out. Fabian smiles, eyes crinkling up. “Today or later?” He motions behind him. “I want to, but the others want a turn.” Fabian squeezes Anthony’s ass, slipping his hand under the briefs he’s wearing.

Anthony shouldn’t get a say, other teams don’t after a dumb red. But even for how annoyed Kieran is no one would stop them. Anthony turns over ‘later’. They have shared time with the team before but it’s always ended there.

“At the end?” Fabian’s eyes get all dark and there is a filthy grin on his lips. Anthony will be sticky all over by them. Might be to blissed out to do more than rock mindlessly. Anthony nods without realising he’s doing it, bobbing his head too much.

“I’ll remember,” Fabian says. Good, Anthony might not. There is a warm body behind him and the press of lips on his neck, the rougher rasp of beard gives it away and yeah Alex. His long thin fingers sweep around Anthony’s stomach, tugging him onto his feet.

Fabian helps him off his lap, legs a big wobbly. Alex yanks him close, dick hard on his back. This is good too. Alex bites his neck and Dan reminds him about cameras. Alex just goes lower. Tiny stinging little nips, “get them pants off Fabby,” Dan’s voice again.

Fabian pulls his briefs down to the top of his thighs, stopping for a moment for a rough grope across his cock and down to squeeze his balls.

Anthony whimpers from that and Alex stopping biting to rub his face across his skin. Anthony shudders, all the little nips and bites over-sensitive under his facial hair. “Leave the socks,” Dan calls again.

#fic #fic -GB

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