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skay-ali · 5 months ago

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The Forgotten Daughter

well I finally did it.

first of all merry christmas and enjoy the chapter

Dear family

This may be sudden... I don't even know why I'm writing this letter anymore, it was supposed to be about the big decision I made that would change my life, but even so I don't know why I'm leaving explanations.

My plan was always to never see you again, each of you, I still feel very hurt by everything, although I know that these words will not make a big change in you.

But enough berating them, I'm not racking my brain to find the right words for a letter full of complaints.

I was always a girl who avoided problems or at least I like to think I was, Father, brothers and my dear confidant Alfred, despite getting into big trouble.

The lights were flashing brightly, the music at full volume filled the room, it was very hot due to the sweat that all the bodies were emanating, you watched all the visitors of the club go crazy with euphoria after a few drinks and continued with a long list of crazy things, you On the contrary, you decided that it was one of those depressive days, where you spent your time seeing the bad side of everything and being miserable.

You didn't follow your friends to any of their craziness; on the contrary, you stayed in a place at the bar away from everyone, along with a few glasses full of a low-grade cherry-flavored liquor.

You still taste the light cherry flavor on your palate. There were so many liquors on the shelf, many of different sizes, appearances, names, years and strengths, you wondered if anyone ever drank them all, if there was a person who in his miserable, boring, short life provokes every liquor on the restaurant's menu. bar.

You looked away when you heard the sound of a chair being moved, you saw a man taller than yours, with a somewhat abrupt but attractive appearance. You took another sip from your glass and returned to your thoughts as you watched the people on the dance floor doing stupid things.

Or so you tried, but by discreetly observing the actions of the man near your seat, it was enough to capture your full attention, to what that guy does in his notebook with his pencil.

“What an artist,” you addressed the subject sitting one seat away from you, “what are you doing in a place as crazy as this?” You turned your gaze to the man with blue-black hair, as you watched him take a sip of his drink and draw with his pencil.

Their eyes connected when the man decided to leave his world and pay attention to your beginning of interaction, he couldn't look away in time, although you didn't blame him, you did the same before because of the curiosity you felt when he saw him, you felt like everything was coming together.

He paused, just him and you, as if the two of you were the only ones in a large room of strangers.

A smile left your lips when you saw the man's dazed attitude, he was so lost in himself that it seems that he forgot about your beginning of conversation until a moment later.

Still, you were afraid that it wasn't nerves that the man was feeling but anger or annoyance at your interaction with him.

“Even if you don't believe it, inspiration can be found in unlikely places… Or even sometimes a muse” came those calm words from his thick but reassuring and animated voice.

You were relieved to hear him speak, but those words that had no sign of annoyance or complaints.

“uhh it's like that... I only saw this place as a garbage dump full of vices” you didn't know how you were still trying to maintain an interaction with that person, perhaps prolonging the feeling of company instead of the one of loneliness sounded more attractive.

“You should look at it from other perspectives, so you'll find things like this” you saw him tear a page out of his notebook without blinking and put it on your forehead.

You were surprised to see your drawing on the paper. Every feature of yours delicately captured with each stroke of the pencil on the paper.

“wow you left me speechless for a moment” you disconnected your gaze from the sheet you had in your hands.

“You are actually a great artist” the drawing was extremely beautiful, you never considered yourself a very beautiful woman, it was common for you to see all your flaws before your best qualities, seeing that paper where you felt that in that drawing you were perfect caused you a feeling emotion and a passing confidence.

However, you couldn't get it out of your head to see yourself drawn in other ways on paper, like a cartoon or Japanese version of yourself; before this moment, you never even had the chance to sit on a bench and wait for an artist to draw you. .

“What's wrong with that face, you look disappointed, maybe you're kidding me” you heard him joke.

“No no… no… on the contrary, I really like it” you quickly defended yourself, afraid of offending the man.

“It's just that..” you felt shy when explaining your reasons, especially when he had an attentive gaze on you.

You saw his eyes wait expectantly for your words.

“You know, the drawing is beautiful, but… even though it sounds silly, I wish I could see myself more in a cartoon or comic” you laughed nervously, after your babbling.

“ahh, are you a comic book lover or something?”

“Yes, well it's something like that” you liked to read some series in comic magazines from time to time, but you preferred mangas, you hid this preference, you weren't going to receive a few words of displeasure for that or start a debate about what genre it was.

Better, much less explain what they were if I didn't know what you were referring to.

“I think I can fix that,” the guy said with an animated and funny voice.

You watched him, fascinated, by how he held his book with enthusiasm, his hands moved quickly from one side to the other on the white sheet, the pencil was handled quickly, you could tell that he had a lot of experience with the ease with which he did it.

It was a long night, between different conversations and laughter with the new guy you met, the night became more tolerable with the man by your side.

Between drinks and meaningless talks, laughter on both sides, silly dances on the floor full of people, just two fools doing the most pathetic steps they had plus some little improvised old waltzes, it ended in a new day with two sleepless but falices talking in a viewpoint of a building that showed the entire city.

Oh, father, you don't know how enchanted I was with that man I met on one of my many outings to parties, I was stupid and childish, but I still allowed myself to dream and love.

You didn't expect to meet again with such a man with whom you managed to connect, but that's how it happened, destiny somehow led them to meet.

You liked having a new person in your circle, with whom you managed to get along so well.

From talking about his work as an artist, giving his opinion on different comics and mangas that they knew, talking about animation to becoming hoarse from speaking with so much emotion and passion with long monologues.

They visited many hidden places in the big city in their days of adventures, even if they were alleys that were not very crowded, now that you think about it, such a careless action was very crazy, but the beautiful places, with new views, like an alley full of colorful fabrics and with different designs that hung over the street, the walls of a neighborhood full of drawings with different artistic techniques, but with many bright colors, the tall buildings that showed views of the entire city.

The days of movies with crazy plots, but that had you glued to the screen to see what happened next.

The rare meals from the carts or street stalls, which they consumed without problems while they sat to observe the lights of the city or the dark sky, accompanied by silence, but the two of them together.

In that moment where the two were together and talking, you felt that they were exchanging many words of great importance to both of them, but seen from other perspectives they were nothing more than insignificant.

That's what love did, right?

And all for one crazy night where you hope to go crazy on alcohol, after sinking into a self-compose for your life.

You will never be able to forget when he gave you his name and you gave him yours... well, half of it, you admit to having lied to him, even if you regretted it, you already knew the problems they would bring you later.

Well at least that's what you thought, you had no idea of the true consequences.

You only thought about the fear of telling him your real last name, that he would look for you and know who you really were, you were afraid that he would see you differently, no longer a strange girl he met in a bar, but the daughter of a millionaire with a history. questionable life, the mere thought of him using you was too much.

So you avoided him by mentioning the amazing last name “Wayne” and mentioning a fake one.

More specifically, that of your false identification, something crazy that you did in your wild adolescence was left to be useful in your future, that false identification that you made with your friends from school to visit different clubs, you used it when you became independent, so that no one It will bother you in your new life.

“_____ , _____ Jones” unsurely you stated your name, you still remember when you made the false identifications with your friends and among all of them you were looking for a new name and surname for the others, you kept your name and they gave you the last name of the protagonist of the book of fashionable at the time because of the film that adapted the story.

A mental chuckle caused you to remember this along with the taunts they threw at you about where your diary was.

“Kayle, Kyle Rayner,” the boy smiled as he introduced himself.

You followed his smile, something in his ended up infecting you. Just two fools in a bar telling each other their names and being ignorantly happy.

It's a shame that that happiness ended some time later, when you never saw Kyle again. Even with a card for him to contact you, you never heard from him.

You woke up happy, in his apartment, the day after spending a night together, alone, without any sign that the man was home, without any note or notice, you waited excitedly for him to return, but he never did, even when you left a message. letter and ways for me to contact you again if the ones they already had didn't work, you never knew anything.

Maybe it was all an adventure and you got carried away... they never clarified what they were, hell maybe he didn't even consider you a friend.

But you and I know, father, that all the fairy tales one creates end quickly, most of the time in the worst ways.

I ended up with a broken heart, still, I kept good memories... and her.

I know it is late, very late, as it has been for many years, but I must confess it, because no parents and siblings would want to know it in the worst possible ways….

Alice Wayne, my dear baby….

You leaned back in your chair as you wrote the last sentence, you did it, you wrote what was overwhelming you so much, the beginning of the letter.

Your eyes burned, a few treacherous tears running down your face.

Your family, your passing love and your beloved daughter always made you sensitive.

It wasn't something you could avoid.

You leaned your head on the headboard of the chair, letting all the blood flow to your head, something strange you used to do to clear your head, you looked at the ceiling and the walls around you upside down.

You noticed the crib on the side of the room near your desk where you were writing.

You saw your baby sleeping calmly, a peaceful face with no signs of discomfort, he was an angel.

Your little angel, and your light... you knew you would do anything for her, like you did right now.

I think if we are similar in some way father.

I ended up having a daughter through carelessness like you did to me.

I need to ask you a big favor father and not only of you but also of the whole family, the biggest and most important one I will do in my life.

If something happens to me... if I end up in big trouble or I no longer exist, any situation that prevents me from taking care of my beloved daughter.

Please watch over her.

Make sure she has the best future, a happy life with everything she needs, that she can grow up as a girl full of light, that she is always kind, wise and with a loving family.

If that's not something they can give you, find someone who can give it to you.

Take care of my treasure, my only happiness, my only family... I know I left a long time ago without saying anything and returned in a hurry to their lives.

Maybe one day they will call me selfish knowing the path I took to leave little Alice to them, the decision I decided to make was not easy, but I did it because I want the best for my little light.

We are all selfish and mean, I was all my life, since I knew that my happiness only depended on me, that I was alone in this world, that only oneself can save oneself.

I think I still am by thinking that I can force them to do something about my problem, I can't force them to take care of someone or take responsibility for a short period of time, turning their lives upside down.

But maybe... with all the love and affection that you could ever see felt for me, I can make you consider helping me and fulfilling my difficult request.

Father, brothers and Alfred... I never said it because of all the anger I felt, because of everything that happened in the mansion, which devastated my thoughts with a lot of anger, forgetting everything I had and made me have a comfortable and pampered life.

Thank you.

Well, he's the father and maybe a future yandere, it's a possibility.

after an exhaustive investigation into possible characters to occupy this role in the series.

although there may be other possibilities with other characters....

Like I tried with the penguin's son, if ___ had decided to hang out more with villains and they adopted her or became her godparents.

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000 @con seguridad

#yandere dc #x reader #yandere batfam #yandere platonic #platonic batfam

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sailorsoons · 3 months ago

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Santa Baby (j.ww)

PAIRING: Wonwoo x reader

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend is stuck working on Christmas Eve in hell on earth. You decide to pay him a little visit to cheer him up - and give yourself a good laugh.

WC: 1,400

AU: Established Relationship

GENRE: Fluff, Humor

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Cranky reader, children slander because the author (me) is a childless wench, some light suggestive talk at the end, explicit language, a single chaste kiss.

A/N: This was originally a request for @kkaetnipjeon on my sailorrhansol blog before my blog was shot in cold blood. So now I'm posting a Christmas drabble in the middle of February :)

A/N 2: This is not beta read - I just used spell check because I am ungovernable.

MAIN MASTERLIST | PERMANENT TAG LIST | ASK

CHRISTMAS EVE AT THE MALL SHOULD BE ILLEGAL. It’s most certainly a hazard to your health as yet another family bumps into you with their handful of demons - children - nearly knocking you into the swing sign at Victoria Secret telling you to buy something so someone could unwrap you.

You would love for someone to be unwrapping you right now in the warmth of your home in the sheets that smell like laundry detergent and spicy cologne. The man who would do the unwrapping, however, is currently only available to the population of the world’s most hellish mall.

Which is why you’re in said hellish mall in the first place.

Christmas music blares over the speakers of the mall. The smell of grease and the distinct scent of cheese drifts from the food court. Your stomach rumbles, not for the burnt taste of Sbarro pizza but at the thought of going home and finally digging into a proper meal.

That will have to wait, though.

Smack in the center of the mall is a towering platform decorated like a winter wonderland. Occasionally, a snowblower from somewhere on the second floor shoots out foam, turning it into the North Pole proper. It earns a combination of screaming in delight and terror from the mostly-kid population waiting in line to walk up the metal catwalk to the top of the winter wonderland where Santa is waiting for them.

Sighing, you get in line, by-stepping a little girl covered in sticky candy cane residue as she runs from her mother, tears streaming down her face while screaming she doesn’t want a picture with tanta. Well, you’re not sure who tanta is but you can’t blame her, looking at your watch to see it’s nearly eight o'clock at night.

The line moves sluggishly slow. You shift back and forth on your feet, scrolling mindlessly through social media. The mother in front of you accidentally knocks your phone with her purse as she shifts one of her screaming children from one arm to the next.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, bouncing the baby in an attempt to soothe him. You wince. You get it - she doesn’t have it easy. “And sorry for his screaming.”

“That’s okay, I think it’s a requirement for kids to scream during the holidays. It’s like an instinct.”

She laughs. “Is this one yours?”

You look to where she’s pointing. There’s a child standing next to you with snot running down his nose and a grinch t-shirt on with several questionable stains. He looks up at you with big brown eyes, blinking and asking, “Dada?”

“No, definitely not.” You point to the father swiftly coming over to scoop the child, an apologetic look on his face. “That’s dada, buddy.”

“Dada,” the kid agrees, turning to reach his arms up as he’s scooped up and taken away from the line.

“Oh.” The woman in front of you frowns. “No kids? Just here to see Santa yourself?”

“Yes. I want to ask him to destroy all the Cybertrucks.”

“Oh.” End of conversation.

One less friend and an infinite amount of line to go, you flip through your work emails, cringing to see how many people think it’s appropriate to send you emails on Christmas Eve. Don’t they know you have a line to stand in for forty five minutes?

You think about asking Santa to send all your coworkers away like Kevin on Home Alone, but realize you’d still be expected to take on all their work. Maybe you should ask for the destruction of capitalism. That seems like a world-wide benefit.

Finally, the line moves forward significantly. The metal catwalk twangs underneath your boots. You lean on the greasy rail, listening to the musical styling of Mariah Carey as she earns yet another number on her paycheck as foam snow blows overhead.

In a weird way, it’s not terrible. You look around, drinking in the miserable families just trying to take a last second holiday photo, late shoppers scrambling to get the last of their presents before tomorrow morning, the kitschy decorations making up the mountain with Sana’s chair somewhere at the top.

You grin, feeling a sense of nostalgia as the line moves forward again. It might be an annoying way to spend your evening, but there’s no denying there’s a bit of magic in the air, even for capitalism Christmas. And Sbarro pizza.

Finally, you near the top landing. There are elf workers helping take photos and managing the line while Santa sits on a gold chair with velvet cushions. His robes are equally as red, nearly blending in with the seat save for the white beard and hair and the slightly askew glasses as the little kid in his lap knocks him in the head.

Coughing to disguise your laughter, you watch as Santa delicately removes the child from his lap and gives a hoarse ho ho ho before sighing and readjusting to accept the next family. He doesn’t see you in line, entirely focused on lifting up the little tyke in front of him into his lap to ask what he wants for Christmas.

The teenage elf working the line looks you up and down, raising her brow as she chews her gum. “How many?”

“Just me.”

“Oh. Ummm. Alright I guess. You get five minutes with Santa. Please don’t go over time. Your photos will be available at the kiosk downstairs. Take this ticket and they’ll print them.”

You take the piece of paper from her. “How much are photos?”

“Fifty bucks.”

“Jesus Christ, do I get to kiss him on the mouth too? Why is it so expensive?”

She stares at you before turning over her shoulder to see the family leaving. “I don’t make the prices. Your turn - and don’t kiss Santa on the mouth.”

Shoving the ticket in your pocket, you mutter under your breath that you can actually kiss this specific Santa all you want. The Santa in question turns to greet you, halfway through his greeting when he sputters,” Ho-ho- holy shit what are you doing here?”

“Wow, what terrible language, Santa Baby.” You grin, plopping yourself on his lap. Wonwoo nearly drops you as you do, but he recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight. “You smell like cheese.”

“It’s the food court,” he mutters. “It won’t leave me, I swear.”

“Gross.” You adjust his glasses, heart fluttering. “You look cute.”

He does, in a weird way. Not because the giant suit and the beard and the hair are flattering, but because you know it’s Wonwoo underneath it all. Wonwoo who somehow got roped into covering for Mingyu as a mall Santa for the evening, Wonwoo who is a little bit overwhelmed by kids but eager to make them laugh anyway, Wonwoo whose grip tightens on you a little, eyes sparkling at your arrival.

“Do I?”

“No, but I like you anyway.”

“Alright, pose with Santa,” the photographer says.

Both of you ignore him as Wonwoo laughs. “So,” he hums. “Have you been naughty or nice?”

“Well, I drove an hour in traffic to come to this shitty mall and then fight for parking for another forty-five, got run into by a bunch of families, stood in line and got called dada or mama like four times, all to come see my boyfriend and make his night a little better.”

“Got it. Nice list.”

You brush stray white hair from his beard. “Definitely nice list.”

“Thanks for coming to see me.” He hugs you a little closer, softening. “It’s really sweet of you. I’m off in an hour.”

“Good. I’m hungry and I want to watch The Muppets Christmas Carol with my own personal Santa Baby.”

“Is that what’s on your Christmas list?”

“Yes. And for all the Cybertrucks to be destroyed.”

His laugh is jovial. You think Wonwoo’s laugh outranks Santa any day, full-bellied and cute. You feel your affection swell, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips despite the teenage elf telling you not too. Too bad she doesn’t decide if you get to kiss your boyfriend or not.

“Hey!” She yells behind you. “I told you not to kiss Santa!”

“I’ve gotta go,” you laugh. “I think I just made the naughty list.”

“I’ll see you at home?”

“Mhmm.” You think of the Victoria Secret sale sign. “Come unwrap me.”

PERMANENT TAG LIST

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched@eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy@gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume@yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries@archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona@beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen@mingumis @kimsaerom @imlonelydontsendhelp @eunyi @smiileflower

#wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonu x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fanfic #svt fic #svt fluff #wonwoo x you #seventeen x you #svt x you

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supernova41st · 5 months ago

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Always Forever ✩‧₊˚

Tf2 x Teen!Reader

A/n: Ty to all the people that voted for that poll I did last week! This is sorta ‘recycled’ from this post I made just for Scout, I rewrote most of the stuff for his section. Was going to put ‘Skinny’ by Billie Eilish as the song here but I felt it was too angsty, that has nothing to do with anything I just wanted to share that.

Warnings: ‘Troubled’ Teen, Mentions of period, slight angst,

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

Spy

✭ Since spy is.. spy he knows nearly everything about your background, surprisingly he feels pity for you. He knew that the other mercs didn’t exactly have the best home life but here you were, barely finishing highschool and becoming a mercenary

✭ Although he does feel sorry he still seems like the same bitter spy he is to everyone else, maybe not as much but overall the team can’t sense any different emotions towards you.

✭ Missions with him are fairly awkward, you expected him to say some petty bullshit straight from the start but he mostly just seemed observant of you.

“You just gonna glare at me for the rest of this thing?”

“If it bothers you so much why don’t you crawl back to your mother”

“I can’t go back, you know how my life use to be”

✭ Oof, that kinda got to him.

✭ Like with Scout, he rarely ever calls you by your name/title. He mostly just calls you ‘girl’

✭ He tries to get use to your teenage perks, it’s been a while since he’s been a father so it took a while.

✭ once your teenage girl instinct kicked in once you realized he was snooping around your bunk room, you weren’t happy

“Who was in my room?”

“Cough what?”

“I went in my closet and my shoes were out of order because I put them from my least to most favorite and my converse were next to my combat boo-WHO THE FUCK WAS IN MY ROOM??”

✭ It’s ok, he won’t be snooping around there for a while for his sake <33

Heavy

✭ Every time he looks at you he looks like he’s about to cry. Can you blame him? You remind him of his sisters so much!!

✭ Especially after learning about your rough past.. god he wishes he can just have you move in the cabin with his sisters. It’d be so much better than what you’ve been through.

✭ Since he’s been around girls his entire life he warmed up to you real fast. Will gladly watch your back out in the battle field

“Jesus heavy!! I could’ve taken that shot Yknow? You look like Swiss cheese..”

“It’s alright, little one. Not as frail as you.”

✭ if you forget to ask for pads when goods get shipped to the base don’t worry, he always orders some in case you forget

“(Y/N), Miss Pauling told me that you forgot about Red riding hood visiting.”

“Gasp Oh god.. Thanks so much, Heavy.”

“No problem”

✭ Easily he’s the one you like the most. Not only is he chill but he’s always there for you 🫧

Sniper

✭ Divorced dad core

✭ Honestly he doesn’t really mind how young you are, as long as you can do your job he’s pretty okay with you

✭ Although (as said before) he does give divorced dad vibes. Helping mow the lawn, let’s you have a sip of his beer, spending weekends in his camper van, etc.

✭ He enjoys going on camping trips with you and teaches you how to use his rifle. Once you got injured near your eye because of the harsh recoil, he felt real sorry

“You good mate? Those frozen peas doin’ any good for ya??”

“Sniper I’m fine!! It’s just a bruise”

“Yeah, a big one! Lil’ bugger is already turnin’ yellow.. don’t tell Heavy I did this to ya”

✭ He always has to swat your feet off the dashboard of his car as if it’s not already dirty

✭ will NOT let you play music in there, he says it’s “too sappy for his taste”

✭ (Extra)

✭ Soldier doesn’t like you going out, divorced mom core.

“AH! LOOK WHOS FINALLY HOME FROM SNIPERS, ONLY 2 SECONDS LATE.”

“What?”

Scout

✭ Don’t get him started.

✭ This boy will defend you with his LIFE. (not on the battlefield)

✭ Anyone giving you a hard time? Scouts here!!

“Hey, (Y/N), perhaps before jumping straight into the enemy team you might want to wait for yours to come over??”

“Wow another mission where you blame everyone but your big ass 😐”

“That’s a little out of pocket but I mean.. thanks?”

✭ Miss Pauling and him are your parents now btw. They take you EVERYWHERE with them

“Guys I really don’t have to go, plus I don’t have any extra money to pay for myself anyways”

“We’ll just pay it for ya toots!! You can order all the food you want”

“Yeahh, under 30$ tho.”

✭ Despite how much fun he has with you, he does have a deep connection with you as well. He knows how it feels to be seen as ‘useless’, so he tries his best to make sure you have the best time you can at a place like this.

“You alright, kid? It was gettin’ pretty ugly out there, especially with all that blood splatting all over ya”

“I’m good, I just hope I don’t get any infection since I got some blood on my eye..”

“Ew.. I mean-cool!! That’s pretty sick if you ask me”

✭ Does not ask you about your past, let alone bring it up. Scout may be stupid, but he’s smart enough to know that he’ll probably say something ignorant if the life you gave up ever gets brought up.

#NovaWrites*#Spotify #scout x reader #tf2 x reader #spy x reader #heavy x reader #sniper x reader #x reader #platonic x reader #tf2

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bambisworlds · 7 months ago

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bambi and her bodyguard

simon "ghost" riley is bambi's bodyguard, he worships the ground she walks on but fights his feelings for her. well, until he can't anymore (5,121 word count)

*bambi is my oc, click on my pinned 'about my blog' post to learn more about her :)

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, bambi!oc, bodyguard!simon, unmasked!simon, gentledom!simon, innocent!reader, shy!reader, inexperienced!reader (but not a virgin), simon is down bad for reader, protective!simon, jealous!simon, oral (f. recieving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), use of "Daddy" (2 times), use of "good girl", lottts of praise, not really a warning but frequent consent checks (consent is sexy), frequent usage of pet names, let me know if i missed anything x

my masterlist

Simon never expected to like his charge for his latest bodyguard gig. The contract would only last for a year, and then he'd likely move on to whatever spoiled brat he was assigned to next. He retired from special forces 5 years ago. He thought he'd enjoy it, but as it turns out he hates to sit still. So, he started working as a bodyguard 2 years ago. He's had 8 jobs so far, most of them were short-term gigs. Bambi was his latest assignment.

Her name wasn't actually Bambi, but the nickname fitted her well. She looked as if she belonged in some flower field where the sunlight could shine on her, making her hair glow in golden hues. Bambi was gentle and skittish like a deer with big doe eyes. The object of innocence and sweetness. He wanted nothing more than to taste the sweetness of her lips and her cunt, but he couldn't go there. He wouldn't.

Bambi was the daughter of the CEO of a luxurious company. He was a billionaire, and like most wealthy and famous people he had people who hated him. Her father was receiving threats on both himself and more importantly, Bambi. His words to Simon in the consultation before he was hired were; "She's too good for this world, too innocent. These thugs would squash her like a bug."

Her father was right, Bambi was too good for this world. And he would do whatever it took to keep her from its harsh realities.

Simon stood outside of her bedroom, he could hear pop music faintly playing inside. Probably Ariana Grande or SZA, which Bambi had been educating Simon on against his will. Bambi had plans to go out with her best friend, Florence. She and Florence have been friends since middle school. They were an unlikely pair. Florence was outgoing, raunchy, and bold. Bambi was not. Bambi was shy, polite, and kind. Florence, like Simon, knew Bambi was precious, so she often used her boldness to defend Bambi, which Simon greatly appreciated.

Simon had been staring at the wall across from him in a haze as he listened to Bambi's faint, melodic humming from inside her bedroom. He was practically in a trance. But, he was snapped out of it as Florence came strutting down the hall.

"Hey big stuff," she greets Simon with a wink as she walks into Bambi's room without knocking.

"Florence," Simon greets flatly. As if there was some magnetic pull between him and Bambi, he turned so he could look into her room. Florence had left the door open after she entered. Simon leaned on the doorway as he watched Florence try to coax Bambi to do bolder eye makeup. Simon didn't think it was necessary. She looked angelic with her usual soft, pink eyeshadow and the delicate highlighter on her nose that gave her a natural but ethereal glow.

Simon barely registered Florence's outfit, his gaze was hyper-focused on the silk, pink dress Bambi was wearing. It had fine flower designs on it with a low cut, giving a glimpse of her cleavage. Simon gulped and forced himself to look away, pretending to seem intrigued by the collection of romance novels on her bookshelf.

"Si's coming with us," Bambi says, her sweet voice calling Simon's attention back to her like a siren call. He blamed the flip in his stomach on the shitty Chinese food he had for lunch, not her calling him 'Si'. She was supposed to refer to him as Ghost, but Simon wanted to hear his name on her lips, so he asked her to call him Simon two weeks into his job.

"You won't even know I'm there," Simon says, his tone dull, as she tried to prevent Florence's unavoidable bitching about him accompanying them to the blues bar they were going to.

"Yeah, right," Florence scoffs, turning towards Simon, "What are you? 6'4, 6'5? I'm sure I won't even notice your sasquatch ass behind Bambi the entire night," she says with a roll of her eyes.

"He's just doing his job, be nice," Bambi coaxes Florence with a gentle touch on her arm.

Simon watched transfixed as Bambi adjusted her hair in the mirror. It was neatly curled with a lovely, pink bow on the back of her head to keep her hair out of her stunning eyes. Bambi adjusted her dress and turned to Simon, "Are you ready?" she asked gently.

Simon cleared his throat, he barely listened to the words she said, he was too focused on her otherwordly-like appearance. "Yeah, I'm ready," he says gruffly.

"Good, let's go," Florence says and takes her hand, pulling her along with her as she exits Bambi's bedroom.

The whole drive to the blues bar was torture for Simon. He tried to stay focused on the road, but his eyes kept involuntarily drifting to the rearview mirror to get a glimpse of Bambi.

"I need to find you a man," Florence says to Bambi and Simon snaps out of his daze. His eyes fly to the rearview mirror again at almost inhuman speed. Florence was perceptive, or at least more perceptive than Bambi, so she had picked up on Simon's feelings for Bambi. And damn, did she love torturing him with it.

"I don't know, no guys seem to be the kind that I want," Bambi sighs, fidgeting with her purse, "I've tried dating apps, but they all just want hookups or they ghost you once things start to get serious. I want someone to understand me, to want to understand me."

I understand you. Simon wanted to say but bit his tongue.

"Maybe we'll find your Prince Charming tonight," Florence says to Bambi with a gentle smile, before turning to look at Simon in the rearview mirror with a mischievous smirk. Simon scoffs under his breath and focuses back on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

Simon was two seconds away from punching something, someone, in the face. He never had the desire to hit a woman before, but damn was he itching to as he watched Florence introduce Bambi to a group of frat guys. Simon was positioned at the opposite end of the bar so he wasn't breathing down their neck, but could still see them clearly.

Simon wasn't supposed to drink on the job, but he went against protocol and downed a shot of bourbon after one of the frat guys rested his hand on Bambi's lower back.

His grip tightens on the now empty glass as Bambi smiles at the guy shyly, her cheeks tinted pink. Simon was practically seething when Florence looked at him over her shoulder with a smirk, clearly enjoying his struggle. She wanted him to man up and tell Bambi how he feels and she was gonna make him, one way or another.

After another grueling half an hour of watching the string bean of a human flirt with Bambi, Simon stood, the bar stool scuffing from his abrupt movement. He practically stomped over to them, stopping when he was positioned behind Bambi. The frat guy slowly looked up at Simon, who stood nearly a foot taller than him, he could see the unease in his eyes. Simon reveled in it.

"Your dad wants you to go home, said he got a new threat in the mail," Simon says flatly, his eyes bearing into the man's face. Bambi flinched at the sound of his deep voice, unaware he had been behind her. Simon grabbed her wrist, but with a gentleness that contrasted his rough exterior, and started to lead Bambi out of the bar. Florence followed after them with a slight smile.

Simon led Bambi to the car, he offered her his hand as she got in and closed the door behind her before getting in the driver's seat.

“Thanks for the help,” Florence mumbles as she gets in the car as well without any special treatment from Simon.

“I’ll drop you off on the way,” Simon says flatly to Florence. His eyes were dark, situated on the road ahead of him as he spoke. Florence knew she had pissed him off tonight, and she couldn’t be happier about it, which Simon knew, pissing him off further.

Simon pulled in front of Florence’s apartment. Bambi bid her goodnight.

Florence stopped at the driver's side window, “You better not fuck this up.” She says to Simon, a quiet warning before she heads up to her apartment.

Her words rang in Simon’s ears the whole way home, he really didn’t want to fuck things up with Bambi. But he needed to taste her, to be surrounded and engulfed by her sweet, addictive, scent.

After pulling up to the Bambi's father's mansion, he killed the engine. His heart pounded in his chest at the knowledge that her father was away on business. He fell into the usual routine of helping her out of the car and walking her to the door with a protective hand on her lower back.

Simon held open the door for her, and once she entered he did as well, closing the door behind them and locking it. Simon stood, utterly motionless and silent, as she took off her Mary Jane shoes. When she straightened back up Simon spoke, "What do you want in a boyfriend? What traits, what behaviors?" Bambi turned to look at Simon, her delicate features furrowing slightly from the question. "I'll be any of it, anything you want," Simon says, hating the slight desperation in his tone.

Bambi's big eyes scanned over his face with a mix of confusion and understanding.

"What do you want?" Simon asks again.

"I want them to be like you," Bambi says softly.

Simon swallowed roughly, his hand twitching with the effort of keeping still. "Like me?" Simon asks, his tone flat.

"Not like you," she says, her voice soft and airy, "I want you."

Simon could hear his heart pounding in his ears as the entire world seemed to get smaller and smaller until only Bambi remained. Before he could think twice about it, he walked over to her in two long strides and captured her lips with his. The softness of her lips made his head spin. His large hands moved to span across her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"You want me?" Simon asks, his lips a breath away from hers, "You can have me." he says, his voice gruff. "Whenever you want. However you want."

Bambi let out a shaky breath and kissed him again, her soft hands moving up to rest on the back of his neck. Simon's legs nearly gave out from the eagerness of her kiss, but he forced himself to pull away again, "How do you want me baby?" Her eyes flicker between his, a silent storm behind her eyes as she tried to get the courage to say what she wanted, "It's okay, you can tell me. No need to be an embarrassed sweetheart." he says, his large hand lifting to rest on the side of her face. Bambi looked down at her legs briefly then back up at him. Simon smirked, "You want me down there?" his head nodding towards her thighs. Bambi nods timidly, nibbling on her bottom lip anxiously. "Good girl," Simon praises before leaning down again to kiss her.

His hands slip down to underneath her thighs, lifting her up until her legs wrapped around his waist. Simon managed to make his way up two flights of stairs and down a hallway without looking as he kissed Bambi like she was his only supply of oxygen.

He kicked open the door to her bedroom, then kicked it shut behind him before carrying her over to her plush bed. He laid her smaller form on the pink comforter. "Can I move these?" he asks gently, motioning to the four squishmallows propped up against her pillows. Bambi nods and Simon smiles slightly, moving them over to the bay window before returning over to her. He stands over her, his fingers softly tracing along her thighs that were on either side of his legs.

"Now, I need you to do something for me, okay sweetheart?" he asks and Bambi nods. "Whatever we end up doing, if you want me to stop, or it doesn't feel good, you gotta tell me. Sound good?" he asks and she nods again. "Good," he says softly and leans over her body, his hands braced on either side of her head as he kisses her once more. Simon moans against her lips and braces one arm beside her head, the other sliding down to rub her side soothingly. His hand progressively moves down to her thigh, bunching up her dress slightly. He slowly eases the skirt of her dress up higher until her panties nearly peek out from beneath it, "This okay angel?" he asks and Bambi nods, her hands resting on his broad shoulders.

Simon pushes up her dress to her belly button, exposing her cotton panties to his eager gaze, "Cute." he mutters with a small smile as he looks at her panties. Simon leans down to place a kiss on her covered mound before standing straight again. "Can I see these pretty tits too?" he asks, gripping the fabric of her dress again as he prepared to lift it up higher. Bambi nods, "I need words sweetheart." he says with a gentle smile.

"You can take it off," Bambi says, her voice breathy with a slight tremble.

Simon leans down and gives her a gentle kiss, "Good girl." he mumbles against her lips before straightening up to take off her dress completely, “I’m gonna treat you like a princess tonight, sweetheart.” Simon says huskily as he lifts the dress up over her head. Bambi lifts her arms to help him, then rests them at her sides once the dress is off. Simon lets out a shaky breath at the sight of the delicate, lace bra that hid her breasts from view. "Such a pretty little thing," he breathes as he leans back over her body to plant kisses over the swell of her breasts. Bambi shivered, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides. "Nervous baby?" Simon asks, lifting his head slightly from between her breasts to look up at her.

"A little," she says softly.

"Then let even the playing field a bit then," Simon smiles and pulls off his own shirt so perhaps she'd feel less exposed. "How's that?" Simon asks, tossing his shirt on the floor without a second glance.

Bambi gulps, her eyes flickering over his chiseled chest and abdomen, "Good." she says shakily. Simon chuckles in amusement.

"Now, we'll take this as far as you want, or do as little as you want, okay?" he asks and Bambi nods. "Can I take this off too?" Simon asks, his fingers ghosting over the straps of her bra. Bambi nods, "Use your words, baby." he reminds her gently.

"You can take it off," she says, arching off the bed slightly so he could unclasp her bra. Simon reaches behind her and unclasps her bra with practiced ease, sliding the straps down her arms until her breasts are exposed. He folds her bra and sets it on the floor with a carefulness he didn't express with his own clothing. As Simon looks back down at Bambi, her chest heaving from anticipation and nerves, he felt his cock twitch. This little creature had the most perfect tits he's ever seen.

"Damn, little one," Simon says with a dramatic exhale as he drinks in her exposed chest. "Is it okay if I taste 'em?" Simon asks.

"Yes," Bambi asks, remembering to answer verbally this time.

"Such a good girl," Simon praises as he leans down to take her left nipple between his lips. He moans in satisfaction, his right hand coming up to squeeze its twin. "How's that feel baby?" he mumbles against her breast.

"G-Good," she says, her hands gripping the comforter beneath her. Simon smirks against her breast, moving over to her right breast to give it the same attention. He suckles the bud gently before pulling back to admire her tits again. Simon moans at the sight, his hands cupping and squeezing the soft mounds.

"Perfect fuckin' tits," he mumbles under his breath. His distraction from her breasts breaks as he looks down at her panties. "How about these, baby? Can I take these off?" he asks, nodding down towards her panties.

"Yeah," she answers, her grip on the comforter relaxing as he lets go of her breasts. He slips his fingers beneath the delicate fabric, "Lift your hips for a second sweetheart," he says and Bambi complies. He slides them down her thighs until they dangle from her ankles. Simon leans down to place a gentle kiss on her right ankle as he removes her panties, setting them on the floor with equal care he did with her bra.

Simon's focus returns to Bambi momentarily and his head falls back with a dramatic groan at the sight of her bare mound. He lifts his head again, sighing heavily as he rests his hands on her thighs. "Remind me what I want you to do angel," Simon says, looking back up at her face.

"Ask you to stop if I don't like something," she says softly.

"That's right, good girl," he says as he slowly pries her thighs open. Simon's mouth waters as he spreads her thighs, his eyes drinking in the sight of her pink, glistening folds. "Fuck," he whispers to himself, taking a moment to admire her bare sex. Bambi's cheeks turn pink and she looks away, growing flustered by his heated gaze. Simon smirks, "Don't get all shy now baby, you've got a pretty little pussy, might as well show it off." Simon leans forward, kneeling between her thighs and he plants a gentle kiss on her clit and Bambi jerks slightly.

"Have you ever had sex baby girl?" Simon asks Bambi. He knew she had a boyfriend before he was hired as her bodyguard, but he wasn't sure if they went all the way or not.

"Yeah, a few times," she says shakily. Simon nods in acknowledgment and kisses her clit again. He places a kitten lick on her clit before sucking it between his lips. He lets out a low moan at her taste, gently sucking on the sensitive bud. Bambi exhales shakily, her thighs twitching slightly. Simon keeps a gentle hold on her thighs to keep her spread open for him as he ravishes her pussy. Simon's technique was slow and unhurried, wanting to drag this out for not only her but for himself. He wanted to savor her taste and the sounds she made.

Simon's eyes flickered up to her face as he slid his tongue inside her. She gasped and her back arched slightly, a good sign. He began to pump his tongue in and out, lifting one of her thighs onto his shoulder so he could move his tongue deeper. Bambi let out a sweet moan, her face scrunching up slightly as his tongue slid deeper inside her. Her delicate hands gripped the pink comforter beneath her as Simon continued his ministrations. He watched her reactions closely, trying to see what she liked best. When she made a particularly appetizing noise, he repeated the action until her thighs trembled. He cycled through the favored motions, wanting to make sure she enjoyed every second.

Bambi panted softly, gripping the comforter tightly, her body growing tense as the familiar signs of an orgasm built within her. "Cum whenever you're ready, baby. There's no rush." Simon mumbles against her pussy, alternating between lavishing attention on her clit and fucking his tongue into her. Bambi gasps sharply and keens as she reaches her peak, her body trembling and spasming. She tilts her head to the side, trying to muffle her cries of ecstasy with the comforter. Simon smirked against her sex at her attempt to stay quiet.

He continued to lap at her clit until she jerked with each stroke of his tongue on her overly sensitive bud. Once satisfied that she was spent, he pulled away and licked his lips clean. "Good girl," Simon praises as his eyes drift over her limp form appreciatively. "Still not quite ready for me, though." he smiles and stands up to sit on the edge of the bed beside where Bambi's legs dangled off the edge.

"You're gonna do more?" Bambi asks, still slightly breathless.

"Baby, we can keep the foreplay going all night long if you want, I don't mind." he smiles, his fingers tracing over her mound. "I wanna make sure you're ready for me. But, if you don't want to have sex tonight we can just stick to this stuff." Simon says and Bambi shakes her head quickly.

"No, I want to," she says eagerly and Simon chuckles from her eagerness.

"Don't worry baby, we will if you want to." he smiles as he slides his fingers down to slip one of his thick fingers inside her, "Gotta get this pretty pussy nice and prepped first," he says with a breathy moan as he begins to slowly pump his finger in and out. Bambi lets out a slight moan, her thighs beginning to fidget, but Simon's free hand holds one open for his ministrations. "So fucking tight," he grits out as he continues to thrust his finger in and out of her sopping cunt. He relished the wet squelch from his finger moving inside her.

Bambi's eyes flutter shut as she moans sweetly, clearly enjoying herself. Seeing that she's relaxed, Simon adds a second finger. Bambi gasps and her back arches momentarily before she melts back against the bed. "Good girl, just relax and enjoy it," Simon encourages, picking up the speed of his fingers slightly. Bambi's lips part with a shaky moan as he picks up the pace. Simon smirks and crooks his fingers to find her sweet spot, he knows he found it when she arches off the bed and a high-pitched moan slips past her plump lips. Simon focuses on hitting that spot with each thrust of his fingers.

Bambi begins to squirm on the bed, her hips involuntarily rocking against his hand. "That's it, take what you need," Simon practically moans as she rolls her hips to meet his movements. He clenched his jaw, trying to stifle his own desire as he focused on making Bambi cum. But, there was a visible patch of precum on the crotch of his pants. He ignored it, focusing on the little angel he was pleasuring.

Simon smiles to himself triumphantly as her pussy begins to squeeze around his fingers and she white knuckles the comforter. Simon adjusts his hand so he could circle her clit without pausing his ministrations. Bambi gasps, her face scrunching up in pleasure. She tilts her head again, trying to hide her moans with the comforter. Simon's free hand moves to tilt her head straight again, "None of that little one, let me hear you." he says gently but firmly, and she complies.

Simon watches her face intently, drinking in every micro-expression as she cums. She lets out a desperate wail, her body convulsing and thighs squeezing around his hand as she cums. Simon's free hand quickly moves to grip one of her thighs, forcing her legs apart again. He slows the pace of his fingers, prolonging her orgasm. Once her inner muscles begin to relax and her breathing slows he withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his lips to suck them clean.

"How are you feeling baby? Still good?" he asks and Bambi nods mindlessly, her eyes shut in bliss. Simon chuckles, amused by her blissed-out expression. He rubs her thighs soothingly as she comes back to herself. When she finally opens her eyes again Simon smiles down at her, "Do you want more? Or was that enough for tonight?"

"I want more," Bambi says quickly and Simon laughs at her speedy response.

"Okay, sweetheart," he chuckles and reaches down to work on his belt buckle. He pulls off his belt, tossing it on the floor before moving to unbutton his pants. Bambi watches his every movement, her body buzzing in anticipation. She had been dying to see what he was hiding beneath those cargo pants.

Simon unzips his pants and pulls them down, then his briefs. Bambi's eyes widen slightly as his large cock springs free and bobs against his stomach. The tip was red and angry, dripping precum. After Simon tosses his pants on his forming pile of clothing he looks over at Bambi, he chuckles at the look on her face. "Feeling a bit giddy are we?" Bambi's eyes flicker up to his face and she looks away shyly, feeling caught. "Don't be shy baby," he smiles gently, grasping her chin to turn her face back to his, "You can look at it as much as you want. It's all yours for the night, and as many nights as you want after."

Bambi timidly peeks down again before looking back up at Simon. Simon smiles to himself but doesn't comment on her quick glance as he moves to stand between her spread legs. He grabs her thighs in his large hands, guiding them to wrap around his torso as he stands before her. Bambi complies, locking her ankles together behind his back. Simon gives his cock a few slow strokes, spreading the precum over his shaft.

"Still want to do this baby?" Simon checks and Bambi nods, "What did I say?" Simon asks, his voice growing firm.

"To use my words," she says timidly. Simon raises an eyebrow, "I still want to." she says and he nods in approval.

"Good girl," he says and drags the head of his cock through her slick folds, coating himself in her juices. Bambi shivers each time his cock slides over her clit. His free hand rests on her belly as he positions himself at her entrance. He inches the head of his cock in first and Bambi tenses, panting softly. Simon moans lowly from the tightness of her pussy. He starts with shallow thrusts, stretching her open. Bambi responds eagerly to his movements, her eyes fluttering shut and lips parting. Taking it as a good sign, Simon pushes deeper until half of his cock is inside her, repeating the slow thrusts to ease her open for him.

Bambi's hands grip the comforter for the nth time tonight. She bites her bottom lip, stifling her moans.

"What did I say, baby?" Simon asks, halting his movements. Bambi's eyes fly open, "Don't be quiet, I want to hear you." he says firmly and she nods in response. Seemingly satisfied with her response, Simon resumes the slow roll of his hips until he bottoms out inside her. He groans in satisfaction as his balls press against her ass, "Fucking hell," he moans, remaining still for a moment to savor the sensation of her warm walls gripping him. Lost in his own euphoria, Simon snaps out of his cloudy haze as Bambi begins to squirm. "S'okay baby, I'll give you what you need," he says as he begins to thrust slow and deep, pulling out until only the tip remains before pushing back in.

Simon's eyes roll into his head as he begins to thrust again, letting out a gravelly moan. "Such a perfect little cunt," he breathes, "Gonna get addicted to you sweetheart," he pants as he picks up speed slightly. Bambi responds beautifully, her mouth dropping open as she lets out sounds of delight with each snap of his hips, "That's it, make all the noise you want," Simon encourages breathlessly, his hips smacking against the underside of her thighs with each thrust.

Bambi’s tits jiggled enticingly with each thrust, only adding to Simon's arousal. Simon lays over her, his arms braced on either side of his head as he ruts into her. Simon let out a shaky moan, tucking his face into the crook of her neck. She lifted her hands to rest them on the back of his neck, spreading her thighs wider to give him easier access.

“Good girl,” he grunts out as she spreads her legs wider. He leans back again slightly to get better momentum as he fucks her. Bambi’s eyes drank in the sight of him. His mouth was dropped open, his forehead beaded with sweat as he grunted and moaned with each movement he made. She couldn’t tell who was enjoying this more, him or her. His abs rippled with each snap of his hips, and Bambi couldn’t resist the urge to trace her fingers over the muscles.

Simon let out a low loan as her fingers danced over his hard abdomen and he increased his pace, fucking her with renewed vigor. “That’s it, touch Daddy wherever you want.” He grunts out. Bambi whimpers from the dominant title, surprised by how much she enjoyed it. Simon smirked, “Yeah? You like that?” He asks and she nods mindlessly. Simon chuckled and smacks her hip lightly, “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy. Make me proud.” Simon lets out something that resembles a whimper as Bambi’s pussy began to tighten around him. “Fuck,” he gasps, “Sweetheart, you gotta cum now before I blow my load inside you.” He warns, a slight tremble in his voice.

As if on cue, Bambi’s cunt clamps around his cock and she convulses wildly on the bed. “Oh shit,” Simon moans, his eyes rolling back at her already tight cunt becoming impossibly tighter, “T-That’s it, good girl,” he praises, his voice trembling as he fucks her through her orgasm. Bambi mewled and whined, her hands clawing at his arms as she rode out the waves of pleasure crashing through her. “Oh, fuck,” Simon gasps, “Gonna cum,” he pants, quickly pulling out of her messy cunt and stroking his cock rapidly. He lets out a low groan as he cums, thick ropes of his seed coating her stomach. Simon shudders and moans, bracing himself on one arm as he falls forward so he doesn't collapse on her as he rides out his high.

Simon pants, letting go of his cock as his orgasm subsides, “Holy fucking shit sweetheart,” he says, his chest heaving. Simon sighs shakily and tilts his head down to give Bambi a slow, almost thankful kiss, “That was damn good.” he sighs contently. “How about you? You still feelin’ good?” he asks breathily.

Bambi nods, “Yeah, really good.” she says, equally winded.

Simon gives Bambi another lingering kiss, “Let's get you cleaned up sweet girl.”

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below any of my posts or in my submissions!! (check here: about my blog to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x oc #simon ghost riley x original character #bodyguard simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty #bambisworlds #simon ghost riley x bambi

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normanssurvivalsite · 1 year ago

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The Prince

(Alastor x prince of hell!reader)

"HOLLLLYYY FUCKING SHIT (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER WE ARE VISITING CHARLIEEEE" yelled your dad while bursting into your room.

You looked up at your dad startled.

"Thats great, but why are you yelling?" You asked while raising your eyebrow.

"BECAUSE WE ARE GOING NOW COME OOONNN" he continued yelling while taking your hand and dragging you out of your room and off you guys were to the Hazbin Hotel.

When you arrived your dad almost run in before you told him to tone it down he is still the king of hell who has to keep up a certain image.

This was your relationship in a nutshell. You were not at all like your father and older sister. You were calm and collected and were there to calm them down. And why you stuck with your dad? Because he was broken after your mother left and you kind of got stuck being his mental support.

You never blamed Charlie for leaving you had the chance you do that as well but you decided to stay.

Your dad entered the hotel and immediately hugged Charlie. You just calmly walked in after him.

"OOOHHHHHH YOU BROUGHT (Y/N)" yelled Charlie as well excitedly and gave you the same bone crushing hug your dad gave her earlier.

"Yeah...'m here...sis....cant...breathe" you tried to get a sentence out.

"OH yeah of course sorry"

"Its fine Im happy to see you Charlie" you smiled at her while dusting your button up shirt.

After this encounter Charlie introduced you to the rest of the residents including her girlfriend, who you were delighted to meat since Charlie always rented about her when you guys would talk.

But of course your dad managed to make that encounter awkward as well to which you just sighed a little.

Unbeknownst to you a certain radio demon had his eyes on you from the moment you entered. It was one thing that your attire was something he himself would wear and it suited your figure perfectly, quite old fashioned just like he liked it, but when he saw that seemingly you were the distinguished one in the family you have won his interest.

The way you held yourself with a straight back chin up, truly befitting a prince. He noticed that you seem to either calm down or hint to your father on how to act. It was a sight to behold for sure.

"And this here-" started Charlie nearing the stairs where Alastor appeared. "-oh, this is Alastor our beloved building manager"

"Its a pleasure to meet you sir quite the pleasure" said Alastor while shaking Lucifers hand and wiping it in his coat after.

Not paying a second more of his attention on your father he looked immediately to you.

"And this magnificent creature is the prince of hell himself I'm sure" he said while taking your hand and softly kissing your knuckles.

Your face got a bit read while he straightened back up eye contact never leaving.

"I am, it is a pleasure to meet you sir, I quite enjoy your radio podcast" you managed to get out after re-gaining your composure.

What you said was true, though. You enjoyed his brodcast, his voice, and interestingly enough your taste in music was similar, the jazz part at least.

Alastors eyes lit up at that.

"Indeed? Well I'm honored the prince of hell himself enjoys what I do, and please do call me Alastor." he smiled at you and took one of your hands in both of his while you guys just stared at each other.

"Should we do something ooor...?" Whispered angel to Husk.

However the cat was to stunned to speak. He has never seen Alastor act like this with anyone before. The radio demon was literally flirting with the prince of hell.

"WOOOOWWW ooookkkkk nononono lemme just...squeeze in here" said your father while standing between you and Alastor which was almost impossible thats how close you two stood to each other but he managed.

"If you don't mind I believe my daughter was about to show us the hotel so see ya later" said your dad hastily while pushing you away from the overlord.

"Oh, no, we built the hotel together we should show it together, right Charlie?" Grinned Alastor at the princesse

"...Ok"

"I wouldn't mind at all to show the lovely little prince around" he smiled at you and offered you his arm which you gladly took.

All this while Lucifer was glaring daggers at Alastors back as you two walked off chatting happily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WOOOOOOWWWW LOOK AT ME POSTING AGAIN YEAAHHHHH WHAT CAN I SAY I HAVE A PROBLEM

And you bitches too I literally uploaded my Hazbin Hotel posts minutes ago and yall are eating it up already.

I mean ofc thank you sm for all the love (🥹🧡) but DAMN yall good? Anyone need a therapist?

Haha, just kidding...we all do.

ANYWAAAYSSS

I HAVE SOOO MANY MORE IDEAS AND I CANT WAIT TO WRITE THEM AND SHARE THEM WITH YOU GUYS.

I'm also thinking about writing a pt.2 for this so lemme know if yall would be interested😎

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies, gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and goodnight🧡🦖

#male reader #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader

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grimsonandclover · 5 months ago

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first prev

Sympathy is a knife.2

or; Wake up, I'm sorry.

Stanford!Tashi x tennis player!reader

Song of the post 'when you sleep - my bloody valentine'

Tashi Duncan visits you at the hospital. It could have been her.

SFW

2.4k words

you know the drill. injury, medical shit to the best of my ability which isnt a lot, tashi duncan being kinda gay??? homosexuality? in front of my salad? if you squint, reader being emo but like come on, hospitals, nurses, knee splints, DRUGS (the medical kind and morphine), reader is generally unwell but she also just came out of surgery, suicidal thoughts, more mentions of vicera, its the hospital episode (again) (like beach episodes but less horny and sexy and fanservicey more painful and ugly and intimate so nothing like a beach episode), enemies to idk what this is! I'm a native english speaker but i play fast and hard with the rules of the language (meaning i fuck up tenses a lot and don't catch it all in editing, but i know they're there so i think that makes it better), minimal use of Y/N but there are some points where I had to.

The steady rhythm of the heart rate monitor was the only indication that you were alive.

Tubes in your arm. Tubes in your throat. Hues of purple and yellow peaked from under the immobilizer brace and pins covering your leg and drainage tubes, matching with the same shades of color under your eyes.

Despite it all, she couldn't help but think you looked peaceful. You looked dead. The nurse said you were still knocked out from surgery and would be for a while. Tashi wondered if you were dreaming.

Tashi wondered if you always looked so lifeless in your sleep.

Her sepia eyes couldn't move from that leg. The bandaging, the knowing what's right under. She saw your soul, and then she saw your bones and blood. Tashi had cried in her mother's arms when it had fully hit her.

Tashi Duncan won the match. Your injury meant your forfeit. It didn't taste as sweet at she wanted, more bitter and even vexatious. She wanted to win through skill, not... this. It almost felt like you did this on purpose. You pitied her.

No, she knew that wasn't it. It was easier to blame you than accept the fate of an athlete. These things just... happen, sometimes. It could've been her, instead. But it wasn't. It was your bones that reached for the sunlight filtering down on the court amongst the blooming crimson, not hers. Tashi was here, standing before your resting form, with two perfectly functional knees.

When the nurse came and told her it was time to leave, and Tashi gathered her things from the small armchair in the corner of the room where she watched you from, she felt... strange. Changed.

The fan of your eyelashes on the tops of your cheeks, your pallor, the halo of hair framing your face and resting head. Those tubes. The IV. The heart rate monitor. The surgical steel pins securing your knee in place. Her eyes land on the small tattoo on your inner wrist, one she'd never noticed before. Tashi recognized them as your father's initials.

There was the girl she hated, softly asleep despite her surroundings. You almost looked beautiful, and then she got this feeling in her chest, and it startled her.

She pitied you.

Waking up was miserable. Your throat was dry like never before, the lights hurt your eyes worse than any hangover you've experienced, and the feeling of the scratchy hospital gown made you want to claw your skin off. You could hear your heart rate monitor, and in that moment you wished it would just flatline.

The sob that broke out, despite how dry you felt, when you saw the state of your knee, was ugly. Your nurse, Nurse Amanda, was a useless piece of shit. You had major respect for healthcare workers and everything that they have to go through on a daily basis, but Amanda could go fuck herself to hell. She's the one that had asked you for an autograph when you requested your brother's music to be played.

"Oh, your knee." She'd say casually while writing things down on a chart as disgusting, fat, blobs of salt ran down your face and chin and you tried to remember how to breathe properly. "Some physio and you'll be right back on the court or in the club. I'm sure."

"How," hiccup, "How much physio?" You try to wipe the tears, but more keep coming. It's like your eyes were sucking any moisture from your mouth and lips just to supply a fresh batch of them. Wasn't Amanda supposed to bring you water?

Fucking Amanda looks down at her chart, tapping a pen to her chin. You were on drugs, but no amount of them could completely rid the feeling of your knee and it freaked you out. Every time the corner of your eye caught on the metal pins that poked from it, you felt a shiver run through you. "About a year, possibly more, possibly less. It was a brutal break."

She covered her mouth sheepishly like she just told you the secret ingredient in a family recipe. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that."

No, she shouldn't have. It just makes you stare at your fucked leg even harder. It just makes the tears fall even more. The collar of your hospital gown, one a powder blue, now soaked a darker cornflower.

When Tashi returns, you've calmed down considerably-- mostly thanks to the increased dosage of morphine. It's been two days since, and it's actually hard to remember anything that happened that day. Or the day before, or when you first woke up this morning. God bless morphine.

Though you can't tell, Tashi hasn't changed from what she wore when she visited you yesterday. Nobody even told you that she came earlier, and she preferred it that way. She didn't know why she came back, or why her heart fluttered when the nurse told her that you'd woken up.

Tashi stood still at the door, and you lay exactly where you would stay for the foreseeable future on that damn hospital bed staring back at her. She noticed how you had such pained eyes. The harsh hospital light cast shadows from your browbones to your cheeks, draining color from your pupils. How'd she never seen it before? Words dried in her chest like withered flowers before they got the chance to bloom, and she could feel them sit there. Tashi honestly had no clue what she wanted to say. She could say "I'm sorry" or "Are you okay?" but those were useless words. She didn't like useless things.

When you spoke, and you spoke first after a long stretch of awkward silence and staring, your voice was clearer than it was earlier-- because Fucking Amanda finally remembered you might need hydrating after sobbing for three hours straight and major surgery. Despite that, you still spoke low and broken.

"What are you doing in New York?" She's meant to be back in France.

A pull between her eyebrows, like an invisible string being yanked. "What?"

You look aside at the circles of cleared dust. She heard you, you weren't that quiet.

"Fuck you." She slowly shakes her head. What she means is fuck you for questioning her, because she doesn't have a good answer. You can read between the lines.

You laugh at the suddenness of it, and then your head spins a little more. In a nice way, even though you're meant to be scared of her. "It's a reasonable question. You're meant to be playing against..."

"La Lourie."

"Right. Her. So, what are you doing in New York?" What are you doing here.

Tashi doesn't move from the door, arms crossed as her fingers pick at a loose string of her zip-up hoodie. She doesn't answer for a bit, eyes moving down to a spot on the floor. "I pulled out."

Your breath halts, looking up at her when her words pierce you like an arrow. You don't say anything, because really, you can't. What is there to say?

She finally steps in, leaning against the wall next to the door. An easy way out, and escape hatch. Tashi swallows thickly as the thread on the hoodie is pulled more and more. "I couldn't, uh," she blinks hard, shaking her head, "I couldn't go back out there. Not after that."

What an un-Tashi-like thing to say. She could've been in your place right now and she'd still get up and hobble to the courts, demanding someone play her. Yet, somehow, you ruined it for her. At least for now. She was meant to hate you.

"Your blood is... like, they cleaned it, but I swear I can still see it there. I had to leave."

"It's the French Open, Tashi--"

"And I'll win it next year. But, fuck, I can't play it now." she shakes her head with finality. "I tried, I went on the practice court but I could only picture you on the floor like that, crying and bloody and calling for your dad--"

Your eyes widen and your head snaps up to her. "What?"

The medical team rush from their tent onto the court, surrounding you almost the minute you crash and fall. You can't hear the scared murmurs of the croud, or the shaking breath of your opponent, or your own sobs. Just the blood rushing to your ears and out your knee.

Everyone saw how you clung to your leg, rocking back and forth on the clay. There's someone asking if you can move, someone calling for a stretcher. You just rock and cry.

"D-daddy," you whimper, eyes on the clear blue sky and swirling clouds as your vision blurs and doubles. "Dad, daddy where are you? I want my dad, I need my dad,"

The pain got so bad you stopped feeling it.

Those in the crowd who knew about your dad gasped. Amber stood frozen, watching, not knowing what the hell there was to do. Tashi couldn't feel her legs and her stomach turned. She ran off the court into the player's tunnel, spilling out into the first trashcan she could find. When they finally got you onto the stretcher and off the court, you'd passed out.

Naturally, it was all over the news. Players get injured all the time, but it wasn't often that players like you crashed and burned so brutally. News sites discussed and speculated in detail about the match, everything before, and everything after. TMZ reached out to Amber, who declined to give them any information, and even Tashi got called by a few publishers.

Amber came to your room an hour after Tashi left, rushing to your bedside as bombarding you with questions.

"Oh, fuck," She mumbled, looking over at the mess you were in. "Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry I didn't-- couldn't come sooner. I- I don't," words failed her. Sure, Amber was hard on you, and maybe she considered leaving your career in the hands of someone more emotionally capable very often, but she did care for you. Like a sick, twisted mother-daughter relationship despite the fact she was only a couple years older.

You could tell how hard she tried to not look at your leg, to keep her eyes focused on your top half. You could almost hear the anxiety going on inside that head of hers. The job insecurity must be wild. Where'd she get her check now?

Patrick was next. He almost threw up from a mix of the jet lag and seeing you. "Jesus fuck, Y/N."

He couldn't walk all the way in at first, staying by the door like Tashi had earlier. It was so much. "I got on a plane the second I could. God, this is sick."

It took him a while to come in and not feel faint, sitting by your bedside and not letting his eyes zero in on The Knee. Patrick wasn't a religious man, not by far, but he felt like praying for you.

Your mother was last. Nothing much to note there, it was a silent visit only interrupted by a call she 'had to take'. She didn't return. Seline sent a card which now lies facedown and unopened on the bedside table.

A hand on her shoulder startles Tashi from her vacant staring at her knee, a soft "We're here, Tash." from the driver's seat telling her they're home. It's been a week, now, since your fall. Looking up at the passenger's seat mirror, Tashi can see soft circles darkening under bloodshot eyes, a testament to the night terrors she's been greeted with every time she closes her eyes.

She was meant to move out ages ago from her childhood home but never quite got there. Art said it was because she was secretly sentimental, but Tashi just assumed it was cause her bed only felt right in that room. Nothing felt right, now.

Tashi helps her mother carry in the groceries, Nat and Renee bickering at the table about one thing or the other instead of helping. The older sister doesn't really hear, the words just pass through her as one bag, then another is set on the counters. She's asked to pick a side, the answer is a dismissive hand wave, their mother tells the twins to leave Tashi to breathe.

They've been tiptoeing around her all week but she's too zoned out to bother to tell them to stop. The truth is, Tashi doesn't feel like Tashi. She feels replaced, swapped out. A part of her kicks and screams at her for withdrawing from the Open, and everyone around her can tell.

Every time she sees her knees, she thinks about how it could've been her on the ground screaming, crying out for her mom or dad. Tennis was her fucking lifeline, thinking of it being ripped away like that in a blink of an eye... something in her head throbs and Tashi flops back onto her bed, staring at her blank ceiling.

She feels like she's swimming through life in a pool of shock. Nothing sounds full, everything feels slightly blurry against her skin. Art keeps calling and texting, asking if she's alright, if he should come over. She dismisses him every time. Her mother knows she needs her space to process everything, but now it feels like everything is giving her space. Too much space. She's suffocating.

Tashi forgot to ask for your number. She really wants to talk to you, despite it all. God, she can't even remember why she decided she hated you. Was there a reason at all? Did she hate you cause she felt like she had to, because everyone else did? It was like with Britney or Amy, watching them go through shit and instead of sympathizing, criticizing. Is that what Tashi was doing? Wasn't she better than that? Losing to you hurt, that was for sure, and she didn't exactly respect the DUI, but everything else... why did it matter so much to her?

All the shit-talking, all the tabloids about you she read, all the gossip she'd listen to intently from other players. It made her sick to think about, because now, and only now, she saw you as the person you were. It only took you losing it all for her to see.

Didn't her mother raise her better than that?

She grabs a pillow, pulling it over her face to block out the world. Downstairs she can hear the argument between Nat and Renee heat up, her father in the next room on a work call, her mother making fresh juice in the kitchen. The neighbor's dog, Lucky, is barking outside. Someone's starting a car. Art's new text buzzes her phone.

Tashi thinks about how the whole world moves on while you're stuck in that bed, and how it could have been her.

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#↳ my writing #challengers #challengers 2024 #tashi duncan #x reader #zendaya #challengers fic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #angst #tashi duncan x reader #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #tashi duncan fic #enemies to.... whatever you call this #shorter than part one because i just can NOT do another six thousand word piece right now #finally finished #its 5 am #kaz i wish you were here to read this </3

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redtsundere-writes · 4 months ago

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Date 2. Listening To Music

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soldier!Reader

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Summary: You just want to help Ghost to stop harming himself… These aren't dates, okay?

Word Count: 2974 words.

TW: MNDI. Self-harm. Smut. Possessiveness and Jealousy.

Ghost hated that Price smoked so close to his bed. Although he was partly to blame for choosing the bunk closest to the window. Now and then he would catch the captain smoking with half his body out of the window to “avoid” stinking up the room, but it never worked. The smell reminded him of his father. His harsh laugh with the smoke escaping from his cruel lips. Ghost couldn’t stand it anymore, he had to get his anger out.

The hallways were dark, but Ghost already knew the way to the exit by heart. Walk out of the room until he reached the wall, then walk left along it and go down the second staircase that led directly to the reception and then the exit. His boots echoed against each metal step, he stopped halfway when he heard a second pair of boots. He turned around to find you following him, rubbing your eyes half asleep.

“Are you going to the gym?” You asked.

You were face to face, thanks to you being a few steps higher to compensate. Ghost looked away out of shame, he didn't want to admit what you already knew. His knuckles had already healed, and he was ready to destroy them again. You sighed as your suspicions were confirmed.

“Follow me,” you asked, passing by him to lead the way.

Since you had caught him red-handed, Ghost had no choice but to follow you. You followed the stairs until they reached the common room where the shared television was and some private offices to do work or make phone calls, although most soldiers used it for other things.

“I once told my father that I was depressed, and he just told me: 'You're not depressed, you just have a dirty room.' So I did. I left it spotless,” you told him as you led him to the storage room.

“Did it work?” Ghost asked curiously.

“No,” you answered honestly. “But at least I cried in a clean room.”

You opened the door with a mischievous little smirk. Ghost could already imagine what awaited him from that short story. On the other side was a messy world, filled with canned food, blankets, and cleaning products piled up on metal shelves. Sense and order had been thrown around, and now you had to find it.

“Tonight we’re going to clean and organize the entire storage room,” you explained.

“We?” Ghost arched an eyebrow under his balaclava.

“I have seen your locker, trust me, you’ll need help,” you told him, rolling up your sleeves to get started.

You both got to work. Ghost dusted the cans off and you stacked them. You separated the cleaning products by sections of use, while Ghost swept the cobwebs off the ceiling. You both folded the blankets so that they would be better accommodated on one of the upper shelves. The whole night passed by. You did not talk because there was not much to say. You had been working together for more than a year, so you were already comfortable with each other's silence.

You were labeling some cardboard boxes until you came across one that had “Lost and Found” written on it. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you opened it to discover what was inside. Old t-shirts, ridiculous keychains, an empty canteen, everything seemed relatively normal until you saw a relic.

“Hey, Ghost, check this out. I haven’t seen one of these in years!” You called out excitedly to show him a pill-shaped MP3 player with its respective headphones connected. “And it turns on!” Your eyes sparkled as the screen light up green.

You sat on the floor, your back against the shelf, to find out what kind of music it had. The owner of the MP3 really liked 80s rock. AC/DC, Journey, Tears for Fears are some bands he had in his small library. Ghost joined you curiously, stealing an earphone to share.

“This person has good taste,” you commented.

“Not bad,” Ghost shrugged. “Could have more metal in it.”

“Why am I not surprised?” You asked sarcastically.

It was to be expected. Ghost was in her forties, so he was born in the early 70s. He was at least 6 years old when the heavy metal craze started in the UK, he practically grew up with the genre. Simon probably had posters of his favorite bands in his room and his mom would yell at him to turn down the music when he was listening to the stereo.

“Oh, this is a great song,” you said excitedly as you heard the beginning of Don’t You by Simple Minds.

You let the song play while humming the song and moving your shoulders to the beat. Ghost looked at you out of the corner of his eye as he enjoyed the song in his own way, in complete silence. Unlike him, you weren’t afraid to express your likes or opinions. If you wanted to do something, you just did it without having a nagging little voice in your head telling you it was a bad idea. Sometimes you envy being able to be free even though neither of you were locked up.

The song ended, and you continued to look through the repertoire. You were surprised to see the ballad When a Man Loves a Woman by Michael Bolton was in it, as it didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the songs. You were about to skip it when Ghost's voice stopped you.

“Leave it. I want to listen to it”.

“I never thought you'd like ballads,” you commented surprised.

“I don't like them,” he replied.

“If you don't like it, why do you want to listen…?”. Your eyes shot open in realization. “It reminds you of someone!”. You exclaimed in eureka.

“Well…”. Ghost scratched the back of his neck. It was lucky his balaclava covered his flushed face.

“A partner?”. You asked curiously.

Unlike Soap, who talks as if he was on a forever podcast, Ghost never did, much less about himself. Approved topics of conversation were discussions of hypothetical cases, the weather, or missions. That Ghost was about to reveal a memory like that was unlocking a piece of the mysterious puzzle to discover who is Simon Riley.

“No,” Ghost replied. “It’s the song I lost my virginity to.”

If the shelf hadn’t been there, you would have fallen flat on your back. You gaped at him as he looked at you weirdly as if you hadn’t just confessed that he lost his virginity to one of the most romantic ballads of 1991.

“What?” Ghost asked.

“Who would have thought? You’re such a romantic!” You scoffed.

“Not at all.” He snorted, looking away in embarrassment. “We were in the car…”

“You lost your virginity in a car?!” You exclaimed, to which Ghost quickly covered your mouth.

“Shut up, you’re going to wake everyone on the base with your screams,” Ghost whispered to you angrily. For a second you had forgotten that it was 4 in the morning.

“It must be a great story,” you whispered, still excited.

“You really want to know?” You nodded excitedly. “Fine, but you better not tell anyone,” he threatened you.

“My lips are sealed,” you closed your mouth with an imaginary zipper.

Ghost sighed, he couldn’t believe he was about to tell you one of his most precious memories. Even though that annoying little voice in his mind begged him not to, he wanted to do it. He trusted you.

“Prom was coming up. There was a girl, Melanie, but back then she was ‘Fat Melanie.’ She was bullied every day at school.”

In high school, Simon was a lone wolf who was always on the lookout for his surroundings. He knew everything. He knew who the popular ones were, the bullies, and the victims of the popularity pyramid. The only reason Simon wasn’t among the victims was because he was 6’1” tall at 18 years old. Add to that the fact that he always had an “I’m going to kill you” face on, even if he was just thinking about what he was going to eat that afternoon. Most of his classmates were so scared of him that they thought he was going to shoot up the school at some point. Luckily, this is the UK and not the US, Simon didn’t have a gun… yet.

Melanie was one of the most frequent victims he bumped into because her locker was in the same hallway as his. She was the one bullies picked on the most for having good grades and being fat, since this was the 90s and anti-bullying campaigns didn’t exist back then.

One day, a scream of excitement broke out in the hallway. Simon poked his head out of his locker to see the source of the loud sound. It was Melanie who had just received an anonymous love letter. Then he heard one of the bullies holding back his laughter, hiding behind a pillar like the fox from Dora the Explorer. Simon didn't need any more evidence to know that it was a practical joke.

Apparently, the love letter turned out to be a hateful essay on how the poor girl must kill herself to have loving parents who gave her double helpings of dessert after dinner. Melanie ended up in a sea of her own tears while the bully mocked her in her face. Simon closed his locker to take a cigarette out of his pocket. He placed it on his lips and lit it in an attempt to remove himself from the situation. He was going to continue on his way, ignoring everything as always. It wasn't the first time he saw Melanie cry, he had more important things to worry about at the moment.

The other students watched the scene with some emotion at the absurd spectacle. A group of friends whispered that they felt sorry for her, which Simon thought was hypocritical. “Damn cowards…” That thought made him stop dead in his tracks. He was not a coward.

“Who would take an elephant like you to prom?” The bully mocked, cornering poor Melanie against her own locker.

The smile faded when Simon grabbed him by his leather jacket and slammed him hard against the lockers to get him out of his way. Melanie stopped crying confused at not understanding why a stranger was helping her, better yet, why a cute boy was helping her. Simon, despite his unfriendly face, was attractive in his own way. Unruly dirty blonde hair, chocolate eyes, sharp features and lips that she wanted to kiss because he was her hero. Simon took the cigarette out of his lips and blew the smoke out carelessly.

“Wanna go to prom with me, yes or no?” Simon asked her directly.

“Wait, wait… Is that how you asked her?” You asked, offended for Melanie, interrupting the story.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Ghost, I’ve seen you interrogate terrorists with more tact than that,” you explained.

“I was never good at that kind of thing, but whatever. She said yes.” He shrugged.

“Obviously she was going to accept. You were her consolation prize, even though she knew you were asking her out of pity.”

“I mean, she was pretty. Blonde, green eyes, a nice smile, she was just…”

“Fat?” You raised an offended eyebrow.

“Short. She barely reached my chest,” Ghost corrected.

“Oh.”

Simon didn’t plan on going to the prom, as he didn’t have money for it. So in less than a week he got the tickets by doing some odd jobs around the neighborhood, bought a black suit at a thrift store, borrowed a neighbor’s car in exchange for some handyman work, and stole some pink roses from a hotel garden.

After the neighbor gave him some advice on how to behave like a gentleman, Simon went to pick up Melanie at her house. Luckily, the roses matched her dress that looked like a cotton candy cloud. Her mother was impressed with the boy who asked her sweet daughter to prom. She forced them to pose for a picture while her father glared him.

Simon thought he would hate prom, but he had a good time. They took their yearbook photo, the band was good, and no one bothered them all night. Melanie was forcing him to dance, even to the slow songs as if they were dating. Since he had invited her, he had no choice but to please her. After all, it was only for one night.

It turns out that some idiot poured whiskey into the fruit punch without anyone noticing, so Simon and Melanie were waiting in the parking lot for the alcohol to go down so they could go back to their houses safely. The radio was on the love station (Melanie's choice). Ghost doesn't remember how it happened exactly, but one moment they were chatting and a second later, she already had her hand on his crotch.

Luckily, his kind neighbor had put condoms in the glove compartment in case this exact situation happened. Simon helped her into the backseat, so the magic could begin. They kissed like idiots because neither of them had ever done it before. They undressed as best they could in the square meter they were in. It was obvious what was going on because the car shook like a bouncy house, the windows were fogged up, and When a Man Loves a Woman was playing at full volume.

Simon drove Melanie home with her hair a mess, her elaborate dress placed wrong, and her lipstick ruined. Melanie kissed him on the cheek goodbye as soon as he opened the car door for her. She was about to get in her house when she shouted:

“This was the best night of my life!”

“I don’t know why that affected me so much. I stood there like an idiot watching her get in when I really wanted to tell her that it was also the best night of my life,” Ghost told you as soon as the song ended.

“Please tell me that you later became a couple, got married, had three children, and adopted a dog,” you begged him in the face of the adorable story.

“After graduation, I never saw her again.” You groaned at such a disappointing ending. “The last thing I heard from her is that she moved to London to study at university.”

“You never looked for her?” You asked, hopeful of a possible sequel.

“No. After high school I went to work at a butcher shop, and then I joined the army, so I lost contact with a lot of people.”

“How sad,” you murmured.

“Why is it sad?”

“Because it was obvious that you liked each other, and could have been a nice couple.”

“Sometimes there are people who are only destined to be a nice memory.” Ghost sighed.

“You're right.” You pressed your back against the shelf, careful that the earphone didn't come out of your ear. “Although I can't imagine you dancing to a slow song, I can't even imagine myself doing it.”

“Have you never danced to a slow song?” Ghost asked you, surprised. You shook your head. “It's not that hard” He said before standing up.

“What are you doing?” You arched your eyebrow confused.

“I'll teach you” Ghost took your hands to help you up.

“Are you serious?” You asked, unable to believe it.

Ghost took the MP3 from you to play When a Man Loves a Woman again. He placed the earphone in your ear again so that both of you could listen to the song. One of his calloused hands pulled you by the waist to hold you close to his body, while the other wrapped around your hand. He ordered you to put your free hand on his shoulder and, like a good subordinate, you did.

“Now what?”.

“Just follow me,” Ghost whispered to you.

“Yes, sir,” you responded in the same way.

Ghost moved his feet from side to side, in a back and forth motion that went from his feet to his shoulders. You just followed his steps with a certain stiffness since this was your first time dancing so close to someone. He was right, it wasn't that hard when he was in control. The seductive sound of the guitar and the relaxed rhythm of the drums made you melt into your partner's body. You rested your head on his chest. One ear listened to the music and the other, the addictive rhythm of his heart inside his strong chest.

Ghost smiled at the warmth of your body. He placed his chin on your head as you slowly turned around the small place you shared in the world. He closed his eyes for a second to pretend you were in an elegant living room with a giant chandelier lighting your steps when in reality you were in a storage with a bare wire spotlight. Nothing mattered beyond the fact that Ghost enjoyed having someone to protect in his arms.

The MP3 player died in the middle of the ballad. With no music playing in the background anymore, you pulled away from each other. His hand longed for your touch as soon as you moved your hand away. You stretched your arms with a yawn, you were already sleepy after snuggling into his chest.

“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” you whispered.

“I’ll finish here,” Ghost offered.

You said goodnight to each other and left the storage to return to your bunk bed. Ghost took out his earphone, wrapped the cord around the MP3 and put it in his pocket. It had been a good night. He didn't hurt himself, he danced with a cute girl and found his old MP3 player.

Masterlist.

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Thanks for reading! <3

#fanfic #fanfiction #call of duty ghost #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost fanart #call of duty #cod

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interact-if · 3 months ago

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Black History Month Author Spotlight: Kiki

Our third edition of the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, features Kiki (@scapegoated-if)!

(I’m rly happy to have gotten to know Kiki better through the feature, and the interview contains really interesting insights on gender and race-locked main characters in interactive fiction, among other things! If you haven’t yet played Scapegoated (and if you’re a fan of Infamous/music IFs, definitely give it a go!)

Author: Kiki Born and raised North London, but ethnic background Jamaican (my parents are a part of the Windrush Gen)

Games: Scapegoated (slice-of-life, music, hollywood, '70s)

Short blurb: Scapegoated is about a female musician in a band that is seguing into an acting career. She is facing a lot of blame and scandal regarding the split between her band that happened in 1968. Not only are a lot of the general public hurt and angry about it, but so is an infamous serial killer that has been terrorising the west coast...

Quotes from the interview

I’m from North London. My parents moved to London when they were children from the Caribbean and are a part of the Windrush generation. I am a black, bisexual woman growing up in the UK, a place that tends to disguise its wider prejudices as a classist issue in all cases. […] A huge part of my love for music is strongly intertwined with my relationship with my late father. He passed away in June of 2023, and he was very much so kickin’ it in the ‘70s. He was a DJ throughout his life, so the legacy of LPs that he left behind was unspeakable and very ‘70s.

Read on for the full interview!

Tell me more about yourself! What are some things new readers or long-time readers might not know about you?

I graduated from a Russell Group university with an English Literature BA (Hons). I think a part of me has always wanted to be a writer in some capacity; I know that I’ve always wanted to write a book. So, I think beginning this IF has existed for me as a gateway to see what that would be like. I thought of it as a brainteaser–the prospect of exploring different outcomes and different pathways that a character may undertake. It has been challenging, dare I say more challenging than writing an actual book, but that’s exactly what I wanted out of this process.

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

My best friend introduced me to the world of interactive fiction one day last year. She introduced Infamous to me and asserted that I would really like it because I’m a huge music nerd. Of course I fell in love with the characters and the world, but I also fell in love with the format of IFs.

A huge part of my love for music is strongly intertwined with my relationship with my late father. He passed away in June of 2023, and he was very much so kickin’ it in the ‘70s. He was a DJ throughout his life, so the legacy of LPs that he left behind was unspeakable and very ‘70s. I am a huge music lover with such a wide-spanning eclectic taste, but the period of music post-”Dylan going electric”, post-”Elvis being on the out”, Quincy Jones (rest in king) and Beatlemania is just everything to me, so the idea for Scapegoated came into my life in a very natural way. I knew that whichever story I told, I wanted it to explore the Sunset Strip, groupies, rock ‘n roll, The Beatles, The Manson Family and Cher all at its core.

I am of the opinion that coverage of the ‘70s music scene has been run into the ground lately. There has been a resurgence of nostalgia within the public consciousness when reflecting upon this time due to Daisy Jones & The Six, which was one of my favourite shows the year it was released. So, including Hollywood and murder was my attempt at innovation.

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

I’m from North London. My parents moved to London when they were children from the Caribbean and are a part of the Windrush generation. I am a black, bisexual woman growing up in the UK, a place that tends to disguise its wider prejudices as a classist issue in all cases. I am writing Scapegoated as someone that has only been to the US twice for two weeks at a time. I am writing Scapegoated as someone that can only relate to two aspects of my main character. I am writing Scapegoated as someone that has experienced discrimination and has been scarred by instances of discrimination. In university, I tended to be quite outspoken; in my first year, I felt quite ostracised by my predominantly white cohort during the BLM movement, because I seemed to be the only one willing to speak out in favour of it.

When I first wrote Scapegoated, I was inboxed on Tumblr and replied to on the Choice of Games Forum with genuine curiosity about my choice to gender and race lock my protagonist. This is an excerpt of my response:

I didn’t want to have a self-insert MC because I wanted to ensure that the conversations had revolving these social issues and the murders that unfold aren’t danced around. Perspective is an extremely important factor in that, and I want to ensure that the MC is directly involved–rather than just there as things happen because it wouldn’t be interactive. [...] Initially when I planned this story, before it was titled and the only thing I knew was that I wanted to write an IF about the '70s music scene, it was neither gender or race locked [...]. But I did toy with my ideas by self-inserting (I’m a black woman) when I was attempting to figure out the logistics of gameplay. That’s when I realised that due to the time period and all of the change that was happening at the time, social issues had to be discussed.

To this day, I am extremely proud of my decision and the conviction in my decision. I asserted a level of loyalty to the story I am telling in a way that I didn’t know I was capable of; retrospectively, I think I took a kind of power in it. But I really love the story I am telling and the range of representation.

I am trying to work the line of prioritising my vision, all the while giving weight and importance to my readers’ opinions in the way that these very interesting and thorough opinions deserve. It warms my heart that even one person might care about my characters just as much as I do.

what are some of the most rewarding or challenging aspects of writing Interactive Fiction for you?

Songwriting. I’m tragic at it, but I like to think I’m self-aware enough. There are different characters with different voices and different reasonings behind their songwriting styles. I struggle to ensure that their songwriting oozes with their individual personalities.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

Story beats. However, planning and writing can exist as two entirely different realms to me. What I think the story may be, can develop into something entirely new all on its own once I begin to write. Sometimes characters that I think I know transform into someone entirely new once I start to get to know them through writing their dialogue. I’ve experienced this with several characters already. On the contrary, some characters are so secure in my mind that they can’t be anything other than who I’ve introduced them to myself as.

I really love the writing process I’ve conjured up. It hasn’t failed me yet, but it isn’t secure–writing can never be anything other than an insecure process. Writing, for me, always remains in a constant stage of planning.

Do you have favourite interactive fiction games, characters, scenes or authors that you’d like to recommend?

I have received a lot of IF recommendations due to how new I am to IFs. I truly haven’t read very many, so all I can recommend to anybody are the 3 IFs that I have read which I each loved enormously: Infamous; College Tennis: Origin Story; and Apartment 502.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be?

I only got here in December, and so far everyone has been extremely welcoming and helpful. Honestly, I have no notes. All I can do is encourage everyone to give writing a chance. It’s been so fruitful and rewarding for me, so I strongly urge everyone to give it a shot if you’re considering it. Stop thinking, just do!

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

I’m currently reading I’m With The Band by Pamela Des Barres as research for my IF, which has been a great insight into the mindset of groupies on an intimate level.

As for something that changed my life, I recently watched Sing Sing (2024)--which wasn’t something I did in relation to Scapegoated, I am just an avid film-watcher–and it was such an incredible de-stigmatising eye into the prison system. An extremely important watch for Black History Month, too!

This-or-that segment: (bold = Kiki's pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Kiki’s custom “either-or” pairing: writing in silence or with music playing?

#interactive fiction #cscript game #interactive games #author features #black history month #interview feature #spotlight #poc game developers

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lacroixwh0r3 · 2 years ago

Text

The First Taste (p.2)

DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: It's the second day at the lake and you meet some people that live in the neighborhood.

Warnings: SMUT!!! DUB CON (sorta? Just gonna leave it to be safe), heavy sexual tension, pet names, age gap (Joel is 36 and reader is 21), masturbation (F and M), voyeurism, daddy kink, dom!Joel, Joel is a perv and an asshole, cursing, Bill, Frank, and Tess appearance, use of Y/N (1x), jealousy, degradation, no outbreak

Song inspo (feel free to read if you want): Skin by Mac Miller

PART 1 PART3

A/N: I am sooo sorry for taking so long with this one, life has been crazy and weird, but I already have plans for the next part hehe. Also, this is probably all over the place...I wrote some parts of this high lol

Please share, comment, like, and reblog...enjoy my pookies!<3

Trying to act normal around Joel was a bit of a struggle for you.

It was the second day of the trip and he was completely normal during breakfast—he laughed and joked with everyone, seeming a little more lively than the day before. It didn't seem like he had seen or heard anything last night. And if he did, he was being very closed—lipped about the whole thing, which you were grateful about that because you'd probably die from embarrassment.

Sarah had done the honors of waking up early and making breakfast this morning, which consisted of pancakes and eggs. It was something simple and everyone enjoyed it, meanwhile, you could hardly touch your plate. Not because the food wasn't good, but because you were too occupied with staring at Sarah's dad, the man you had fantasized about the night before. It seemed that no one was even paying attention so you assumed that no one would notice your lingering eyes.

Unbeknownst to you, Maria had quickly caught onto your crush on the older Miller brother, yet she never said anything. Not even to Tommy, her husband. She sat there quietly as she watched you watching him. She really thought nothing of it other than a simple crush and from what she could tell from Joel's stoic attitude, the feelings were not mutual. However, Maria didn't know that Joel was beginning to grow a desire for you—he could hide it better than you.

You were glad that Sarah has been too busy typing away on her phone to even pay attention.

“Y’all had fun last night?” Joel asked as he peered over at the three that went out last night, but mainly looking over at Maria.

Joel was interested in their night, but he also knew how Tommy was after a few drinks. After Tommy and Maria had gotten married, it was obvious that he matured, but he still had his moments.

“It was lots of fun—there was good live music and good drinks there,” Maria said to him as the other two just nodded their heads in agreement.

"We actually ran into Bill and Frank while we were there, they were with a friend...what was her name again?" Tommy asked as he tried to recall the unknown woman's name.

Joel didn't know much about Bill and Frank outside of the fact that they were married and lived next door. During the very brief encounter with the two yesterday, he could tell that Frank was the outgoing one out of the two and Bill was more reserved and not too keen on strangers—Joel didn't blame him, he was the same way too.

"Her name was Tess." Your father reminded Tommy as he took a quick sip of his coffee.

"Right, it was Tess!" Tommy said before speaking up again, "I think you'd like her, Joel...she's your type." he said slowly to his older brother.

This instantly piqued everyone's interest—Sarah's head had snapped up from her phone, while your eyebrows raised with surprise. Joel didn't need any convincing because he instantly shook his head after Tommy said that, letting him know that he wasn't interested.

"Oh come on, Dad!"

"You can't be serious."

"Joel!"

With these responses from Sarah, your dad, and Tommy at the same, Joel scowled at them. Meanwhile, you just sat there silently as you picked at the food on your plate with your fork. For some reason, you were happy that Joel had turned down Tommy's suggestion.

"Tommy is right, Joel, I think you and her would get along well and she's beautiful," Maria shrugged at Joel. "You should meet her and get to know her first."

He hadn't dated in a very long time and hadn't been interested in dating either. He decided that he would agree to get everyone off his back

"Fine, I'll meet her," Joel said as he put his head down and looked up at you. From the corner of Joel's eyes, he can see his daughter and Tommy high-five each other from across the table, while you looked at him with an unreadable expression.

You didn't think that he would agree that easily, but it didn't matter. You couldn't get jealous over someone who isn't yours.

"Great! Tommy and I will go over there to invite them over for this evening and we'll be sure to tell them to invite Tess," Maria winks at Joel.

Before Joel could respond, he was interrupted by Sarah's phone. it began to blow up with messages by the second. Sorry—she said as tried to silence it until eventually, the person called her, making her answer the phone before telling the person on the other line to hold on. Joel was about to scold her until she cut him off, "I gotta take this, I'll be right back. Girl problems!" she tells him with a sheepish expression as she hopped off her chair and started to loudly to talk to the person on the phone as she walked up the stairs to her room.

You all heard her yell into the phone to her friend about some boy before her words became intelligible. You stifled your laugh as you watched the look of defeat washed over Joel's face and he shook his head.

"That girl," Joel whispered, making everyone at the table laugh a bit. When he heard you laugh, he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow, and you did the same.

The split moment between the two of you was briskly intervened by your dad.

"What did you two get into last night?"

You were about to make up some bullshit lie about what you had done last night before you stopped yourself and began to internally freak out because you remembered that Joel caught you smoking weed yesterday and he could easily tell your dad right now if he wanted to. You looked over at Joel with silent pleading eyes not to tell your dad what he saw, but he just looked at you with a blank stare as he proceeded to answer your dad's question.

"Nothing really, I think this one found out there's a balcony connected to her room, you should ask her about it," Joel said before finishing the rest of his food on his plate as he looked over at you. You felt everyone turn their attention to you, making you feel like your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest after Joel said that.

"Oh yeah? How was it, honey?" Your dad asked.

You felt like you had the words guilty written across your forehead, lying was not your strongest suit. You looked around the table and gulped down your spit, noting how amused Joel looked as he watched you become a nervous wreck.

You realized how insane you must've looked at that moment and cleared your throat before speaking up, "it was cool," you said in a composed manner.

"It was just 'cool'?" Your dad asked you, confused by your short response.

There you go again, embarrassing yourself in front of Joel.

"I mean the view was really nice from there, I liked it a lot," you shrugged. Your dad let out a hum, letting you know he was a little more satisfied with your response, making you relax. You looked over at Joel to see him looking at you with a discreet smug look on his face.

...

You had eventually finished their breakfast, to which Joel offered to wash everyone's dishes. Your dad got up from the table with a groan as he grumbled about going to the couch to rest for a bit, while Tommy and Maria headed over to Bill and Frank's house.

You decide to help Joel bring the dishes over to the sink.

"I can help you with that," You tell Joel as placed the mugs down and stood next to him by the sink, grabbing the drying towel that sat on the counter before looking up at him

"I got this, darlin'. You go sit and relax yourself," he said reassured you, yet you made no attempt to move. You shamelessly checked out Joel, watching as he focused on the dish, not even sparing you a glance. He could feel your gaze on him, but he said nothing to you. You peaked down and saw as he gripped the plate with his strong hand as the other rubbed the soap around the plate, the suds were dripping down his wet hand.

You pushed whatever thoughts that were about to appear in your head and looked back up at Joel. "It's fine, Joel. You wash, I'll dry," You tell him. He stops scrubbing before looking back at you, letting out a sigh, and going back to what he was doing.

You said nothing to him as you dried the dishes and Joel said nothing to you as well. There was this weird, awkward tension that lingered between you two. You got a feeling that Joel wanted to say something, he was just waiting on the right time to say it. You decided to break the silence first.

"Thanks for-um-for not saying anything to my dad, by the way,"

"That was nothing, sweetheart. Didn't wanna get you in trouble," was all he said. You weren't sure what to say after that so it went back to being silent.

Joel rinsed off the plate then passed it to you before clearing his throat and speaking up. "So, uh, how'd you sleep last night?" He asked you lowly and passed the plate to you. As you open your mouth to respond and go to reach for the plate, your body stills and your words get stuck in your throat. You had registered what he had said to you.

He was so casual with his words; to anyone else in this house, it didn't seem like anything, it was just Joel asking about you. However, you both knew there was a deeper meaning.

Joel new favorite thing was making you flustered-saying things to you that would catch you off guard and just leaving you hanging. He absolutely loved it.

"Oh come one, sweetheart, I asked you a question. It would be rude not to answer me," he said teasingly as he pushed the plate toward you some more so that you could take it.

You slowly reach for it as you watched him from the corner of your eyes, afraid to even turn your head to him. "I-I slept pretty well. Wha-what about you?" You asked him. You were nervous as hell and you could feel your hands shaking, so you decided to start drying the wet plate in your hand to cover it up.

"Me too, sweetheart," he said to you. You thought that was going to be the end of that conversation, but no, he kept going. "You know what though?" He asked you before turning to face you, got close, and bent his head down slightly to catch your eyes, but never did because your eyes were laser-focused on the now dry plate in your hand. You could feel his warm body close to yours.

"I was sitting on that balcony last night and heard some strange noises comin' from your room, had t'make sure you were alright before I went to bed." He said as he began to speak you again, "but I'm sure you were too busy to notice, right, darlin'?"

Kill me, you thought to yourself, just fucking kill me.

He was right, you were too busy too notice, but you refused to admit that to Joel. Just as you were about to lie to him again, you think back to the night before when he had called you out on lying to him about smoking.

You sat the plate down with the other plates and looked up at Joel, "I don't know what you're talking about," you say innocently as you turn your head to look at him and gave a tight, faux smile, which he returned as well.

This motherfucker.

"Mmm, I'm sure you don't, sweetheart." He says before the phony smile dropped from his face as he got closer to you. Your eyes flicker over to where your dad was sitting, making sure that he didn't see what was going on, before going back to Joel's dark ones.

"But I know what I saw when I looked in that room. I saw the way you fingering that wet cunt, moaning my name," he whispered to you menacingly. You suddenly feel his damp finger gliding across the back of your arm, causing goosebumps to spread around your body. You tried to move put some distance between the two of you, but he followed. "Cummin' all over those fingers while you thought of me."

There is no way your dad's friend is admitting that he watched you finger fuck yourself, while you moaned his name at that. It didn't feel real to you.

You had yet to say anything back to Joel, so he kept going. "Made me cum so hard in my hand. I couldn't help myself, you looked so perfect touching yourself." Instantly, you gasped loudly before looking over at your dad again, and luckily he wasn't paying a lick of attention. The sound of the running water must've covered it up.

Joel's confession should've disgusted you, but it didn't—in fact, it turned you on a lot. Some sick part of you liked that he jerked off while watching you.

Finally, you had gotten the courage to speak up. "You're a sick fucking bastard, Joel," you told him as you push his arm from you and your face scrunched with false disgust. "A sick pervert," You spit out at him as you turn your body to him and point close to his face.

You refused to feed his ego, which was already inflated.

Your words did nothing to him, not even a little bit. "Oh, honey..." he said as his large hand rested on your lower back, "You were the one moanin' my name last night, but I'm the pervert? Now that ain't fair," Joel smirked.

You scoff before you speak again. "Get your hands off me now before I tell my dad."

Instead of letting you go, Joel pulls you into his body, making your hands come up to his chest so you can push away. Still, he didn't budge and kept pulling you closer to the point you could feel the hardness of his cock against your stomach.

What a sick man he is.

"Do it, baby, and I'll tell 'em all about what I saw and heard last night," he says as his hand drifts down to get a quick squeeze of your ass.

"You liked thinkin' about me fuckin' you? Makin' you squirm while you cum all over my fat cock." He whispered. You saw how Joel's eyes darkened with desire as he said this. Truthfully, it was giving you a strong indescribable feeling deep down in your stomach, reaching your core.

For a brief moment, the disgusted expression on your face faltered, your eyes had batted open and shut, and you let out a shaky sigh as you looked up at Joel—hopeful that he hadn't seen your quick moment of weakness. Except, he did. You looked back up at him only to see him deeply observing your face with a small smirk on his face as if he had just accomplished something great.

"You liked that?" He asked you cockily with his hand still resting on your ass. You just rolled your eyes at him as you tried to push yourself away from him a second time. "You like it when I talk to you like that?"

You didn't even have to answer him because he already knew the answer.

"You need to let me go before someone catches us, Joel," You tried to change the subject, but this only made his smirk bigger.

"Aw come on, sweetheart, no one is gonna see us," Joel insisted before looking over at your dad. "They're all doin' their own thing

His actions after this had caught you off guard.

You can feel his big hand trail up your body, while his other one still rested on your ass to keep you close to him; going from the back of your waist to the front and going up to your breasts, giving them a quick, firm squeeze as he cupped them over your shirt. You whimpered as you looked down at the sight between you and looked back up at him.

Joel's hand moved up again, but this time he wrapped his fingers around your neck. He loved the softness of your neck against his rough calloused hand.

His long fingers flexed around your neck, growing firmer as he held your face up at an angle just under your jaw as he bent down. "Or I can take you upstairs if you want..." Joel's grip tightened some more. "Make sure to take my time with you, darlin'," He said as your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. Not because of his hand around your throat—Joel made sure he wasn't choking you to death, but because of his words.

Joel had this seductive nature about him and it was obvious that he knew how to use it to his full advantage. He could probably get you to do anything he wanted.

Fuck—you couldn't believe that you were actually thinking about saying yes to Joel after the way he spoke to you. But again, there was some sick part of you that got a kick out of the way he spoke to you. You weren't exactly sure what it was about Joel that you allowed him to speak to you this way, but if this were anyone else, you were sure that you would have absolutely freaked out on them.

"Fuck, Joel," you whined as you felt him inhale the scent of your perfume that you spritzed a little below your ear earlier this morning.

"Mmm, you smell so good, baby, just wanna taste you," He murmured, taking in your scent. His mouth was so close to your neck, you wanted him to place his plush lips onto it. You wanted to feel the prickly feeling of his facial hair on your neck while he sucked, licked, and kissed it.

"Sweetheart!" You heard your dad call out, instantly pulling you out of the half-conscious state that Joel had you in. Your eyes shot wide open as quickly pushed Joel away from you, making release your neck and causing him almost fall to the ground as he stumbled back. Shit—he cursed out as he caught himself. You really didn't mean to push him that hard, but you were deathly afraid of your dad catching sight of his closest friend choking his daughter behind his back.

"Uh-yeah? I mean, yes, dad?"" You said as you scrambled to fix your clothes and make yourself seem as normal as possible. The adrenaline rush made you feel like your heart was damn near beating out of your chest and made your hands shake with fear.

"Y'all still ain't done with the dishes yet?" He asked, making you tried to voice out some lame excuse, but was unable to. Instead, all you could do was make these odd sounds.

"Anyway, you don't mind gettin' me a glass of water, do you? This damn headache won't go away," he groaned out. You felt relief at the fact that he couldn't hear the nervousness in your voice.

"N-No, I'll-uh-get it for you in a sec," You told him as you looked over at Joel. He just looked at you with a faint worrisome expression on his face—his breathing was just as hard. You gave him an apologetic look before getting the glass of water for your dad.

You made no attempt to look at Joel as you brushed past him, you were too ashamed to look his way. Your hand was still trembling as you walked over to your dad, who was sprawled out on the couch, and handed him the water.

"Here you go,"

"Thanks, sweetheart!" He gave you a weak smile before downing the water, to which you returned as well. You plopped down next to your dad on the large couch as you heard Joel shut the water off in the kitchen and shuffled his way up the stairs.

You sat there feeling guilty as your dad talked to you about whatever was on his mind.

Even though you and Joel didn't go all the way, it still wasn't right to think of him in that way or allow him to do those things to you. You decided that you were going to stop thinking about joel for good.

...

Bill and Frank were great, though Frank was a little more lively. The moment you greeted them Frank gave you a quick side hug with a bright smile on his face, which caught you be surprise, and Bill just stood awkwardly next his husband as he introduced himself to everyone.

And then there was Tess.

You along with Sarah watched the painful sight in front of you as her and Joel introduced themselves to each other. You tried not to listen to their conversation, but you were curious and you couldn't help it. They barely speaking a word to each other besides saying their names and where they were from, which made you a little happy because it meant Joel wasn't interested.

Thank god.

"Well, that was a fail," you heard Sarah say not-so quietly, making you let out a chuckle.

Then Tess came over to us, making you both straighten up. From the moment you met her, she was nothing but nice to you and Sarah. She introduced herself to the two of you, smiled, and shook your hands.

"I'm Sarah, Joel's daughter," Sarah beamed at her.

"It's nice to meet you, Sarah," Tess smiled warmly at the young girl before turning to you, "And what's your name, sweetheart?" She asked. Her calling you sweetheart caught you by surprise honestly.

"Oh, i'm Y/N...that man right there is my dad," you said as you pointed to your father who was a little behind Tess, making her laugh a bit.

"Well, it's lovely meeting you as well." She softly stroked your arm, causing you to tremble with nervousness. Just as she finished her sentence, your dad and Tommy suggested that all the older adults go and hang out in the back while there was still light, to which they all agreed.

"Hopefully I'll catch up with you girls later?" she asked. Sarah and you just nodded your head before she gave the two of you one last smile before walking to the back.

That was weird, you thought for a moment.

"Tess seems nice," you said now that the house was completely silent, making Sarah nod her head in agreement.

"Yeah, she did, too bad my dad didn't seem interested in her," she shook her head, "anyway, what do you wanna do now that it's just us?"

"Mmm," You tried to think about what you could do with her, "I think Maria has some cookie dough in the fridge, you wanna bake cookies and play card games?" You asked the young girl.

"Sure!"

The two of you walked to the kitchen—you grabbed the cookie dough from the fridge and the baking sheet from the bottom cabinet. "You mind preheating the oven?"

Sarah walked over to the oven before staring at it, confused on how to use it. "Um, I think you're gonna have to do it. I'm not sure how to even work this thing," she turned to you.

You let out a giggle as you go to preheat the oven. After you did that, you stood next to Sarah as you both began to place cookies onto the baking sheet.

"You know we're gonna have to make a lot, right?" Sarah giggles out.

"And why is that?"

"My dad is obsessed with chocolate chip cookies," She confessed to you, "he'd probably eat them all if you let him."

This made you laugh.

Joel Miller liking chocolate chip cookies came to somewhat as a surprise to you. He didn't seem like the type to enjoy sweets, but according to his daughter he did and you found it cute.

Once you two had finished putting the last pieces of cookie dough on the sheet, you picked it up and went to open the oven. "Can you put on a time for 15 minutes, please?" You asked her as you place them into the oven.

"Sure," Sarah then began the timer for the cookies right as you closed the oven.

"So what was up with that phone call you got earlier? Sounded pretty serious," you asked her as you sat down at the island next to her.

Sarah lets out a loud sigh before talking, "where do I even start," she groaned. She began to tell you all about the drama amongst her friend group—supposedly, her best friend, Lillian, got with their ex-best friend's current boyfriend and now it's a whole situation. Sometimes you would ask a question or even give your two cents about the situation.

"And you wanna know the kicker to all this? Him and Lillian used to date last year and our ex-best friend got with him while they were dating, so we kicked her out the friend group," Sarah tells you. As soon as you let out a dramatic gasp, the alarm for the fifteen minutes had went off.

You got up and went to the oven, "wait, why would Lillian get back with him again? That doesn't seem smart," You say as you grab the mits from the countertop and took the cookies out the oven.

"I don't know," Sarah sighs out, you couldn't help but to laugh at her frustration at the situation.

Teenagers are so funny.

"You guys are crazy," You tell her as you, "You should tell your friend to leave him alone, he seems like bad news,"

"I have, but she doesn't listen," Sarah said in a disappointed tone.

You just shrugged your shoulders, "cookies are done, we just gotta let them cool for a bit,"

Just as you were letting the cookies cool down, Sarah asked you about your high school experience. You began to tell her all about it—your friend group was small and you mostly stayed to yourself throughout the whole time there. You made sure to focus on your school work rather than getting wrapped up in the silly drama or with boys.

Bill walks into the house and asked where the bathroom was, which you point him to the direction where it was and he went on with his business.

A few minutes later, as you and Sarah were munching on the soft chocolate chip cookies, Bill comes back from the bathroom, "It smells delicious in here," he mumbles as he makes his way to the door.

"You can have some if you would like, Bill? We made sure to make enough for everyone," You told him as you give him a small smile.

"I shouldn't," he said reluctantly, but you quickly reassured him that he could have some if he wanted.

"Well if you insist," Bill grabs a napkin before taking two cookies and said a low thanks as he made his way outside with them.

"I bet they're all gonna come in here to get cookies," Sarah laughs as she finished up her cookie.

And she was right.

They all eventually crowded into the kitchen around the island as they devoured the cookies, nearly eating them all. In between their chews, they spoke loudly to each other.

You tried to engage in with conversation with them, but you were too busy watching Joel. You watched as he had his right arm wrapped loosely around his daughter's shoulders while the other one brought cookies up to his mouth—he looked relax right now.

And sexy too.

You didn't see that Tess was next to you until she spoke up.

"Thank you for the cookies by the way, they were really good," She said to you with a kind smile on her face as she looked at you. Her eyes lingered on your face for a little

"Oh-thanks! I-It was nothing really, we were just really bored and needed something to do," You laughed awkwardly, squirming with nervousness. You couldn't even make eye contact with her while speaking to her.

Tess made you feel nervous in ways that you couldn't describe. Not as nervous as Joel makes you, but close.

"No problem, sweetie,"

...

You were starting to fucking hate this.

Sitting here and pretending to not be affected by watching Joel flirt with the hot, older woman made you want to flip your shit.

You hated to admit it, but your dad and Tommy was right—Tess absolutely was Joel's type. She's hot, smart, a tough woman, yet she was kind, and most importantly, she is close in age to Joel. She was also kind of like the female version of Joel.

At first, there was this awkward tension between Tess and Joel that was almost hilarious to you, but it quickly dissolved as the evening progressed and the drinks began going, making it no longer funny to you.

You had to remind yourself that you decided to back off of Joel that morning, but whatever was happening between the two quickly made you forget about it.

After a little while of being around them in the kitchen after baking the cookies, you sat down on the couch to unwind for a bit. However, that quickly ended when Joel and Tess decided to join on the couch right across from you.

While everyone was still sitting around the kitchen island, listening to music and laughing, you were sipping on your beer and looking at them with no expression on your face.

You didn't even like beer, you just needed something to drink on right now.

Joel was relaxed as he spoke to her, with his muscular thighs spread wide open as he held onto the beer in between them while the other arm rested on the head of the couch. He looked so relaxed and comfortable talking to her.

Sometimes, your eyes would sweep down his body, causing you to catch sight of his pants-covered bulge. You weren't going to lie and say that you weren't looking because you absolutely were.

Next to him was Tess, she sat closely to him with her legs folded up on the couch as she faced Joel, giving him her undivided attention. They both spoke in hushed whispers to each other, occasionally letting out some laughs.

She looked so beautiful as she sat there attentively listening to Joel as she gave him a smirk and flipped her long hair to the side, giving him a view of her neck.

God, you hated how jealous this made you.

And the worst part of this all is that he hadn't given you an ounce of attention since she got here. Ever since the incident in the kitchen this morning, he was distant and didn't pay you any mind—matter-of-fact, Joel just pretended that you didn't exist and that made you even more mad. Whenever you were around, he would avoid eye contact with you.

While you were staring down Joel and Tess, Sarah had suddenly appeared next to you as she plopped down on the seat next to you.

"You alright?" She asked you as you took another sip of your beer. "You look pissed right now."

Was it that obvious? If Sarah can notice the look on your face, that meant so did everyone else.

"Oh, me? I'm good, just some boy problems back at college," You lied to Sarah so she wouldn't know the real reason you looked mad.

Okay—was all she said to you, sounding unconvinced, but didn't push any further.

"My dad and Tess look pretty comfortable now," She leaned over and whispered to you. "Never seen him this way with a woman before,"

Honestly, this didn't seem surprising to you at all.

From the way Joel seemed reluctant to even get to know Tess earlier and the awkwardness when she had gotten here made it very apparent to you. Had you not seen any of this, you would've thought that he was quite the ladies man from the way he spoke to you whenever the two of you were alone.

"Interesting," was all you said as you took a sip of your beer again.

"Anyway, you wanna go to my room and watch a movie?" Sarah asked. "I'm gettin' bored of them already," You laughed and nodded your head in agreement and began to get off the couch, still watching the two across from you. Still, Joel continued to talk to the lady without even spairing you a glance.

You let out a scoff and roll your eyes as you make your way to the steps to go upstairs.

Fuck Joel.

...

It was getting late and Sarah eventually fell asleep a some time after you started the second movie. She was knocked out cold. You were tired as well, but not fully tired to the point that you were ready for bed—you didn't feel like hanging out with everyone down stairs and you didn't feel like seeing Joel and Tess all over each other either so you decided to go to your room for the night.

Before quietly slipping out of Sarah's room, you made sure to put the blanket over her and turn off the tv. Afterwards you brushed your teeth and changed into your pajamas, which was just a tank top and your underwear, before getting into bed.

For a while, you laid in the dark and scroll through Instagram while you blasting music through your headphones. You were tired, but not fully tired to the point that you were ready for bed—you didn't feel like hanging out with everyone down stairs and you didn't feel like seeing Joel and Tess all over each other either.

You suddenly felt the vibrations of a door slamming shut and heard the muffled sounds as well, making you yank your headphones off. It almost scared you to death.

You waited a moment to hear for any sounds that might follow up after. It was silent for the most part besides the sound of Joel's heavy footsteps next door, he must be getting ready for bed. You also assumed that Bill, Frank, and Tess had went back to their place because you didn't hear the music playing downstairs anymore or the sound of them talking loudly.

You were about to put your headphones back on until you heard Joel start to talk. You thought that he must've been on the phone or talking to himself until you heard the tone of a females voice—it was Tess. You couldn't make out what they were saying, but you hear them talking back and forth to each other.

At this point, you were holding your breath as you tried to eavesdrop, completely interested as to what they were doing in Joel's room together.

Joel must've said something funny to Tess because she laughed fairly loud at whatever he said.

He isn't that funny, you begrudgingly thought to yourself.

One of them flopped down on the bed, causing the bed to creak and the headboard hit against the wall. And because the beds were on the same wall, you could hear almost everything. They continued to talk for a while until it went completely silent and the bed creaked again.

You didn't want to jump to conclusions because you weren't sure what was going on in that room and you and Joel aren't anything so it really shouldn't matter to you. You also felt weird sitting there in the dark, snooping on Joel and Tess so you decided to try and get some sleep.

You readjusted in the bed and closed your eyes—occasionally tossing and turning because it felt like there was a million thoughts going through your mind right now.

Your eyes snapped open when you heard faint sounds of the bed screeching and the headboard thumping against the wall. The sounds were unbroken until Tess lets out a low moan, causing the noise to come to an abrupt stop and Joel shushes her.

He was fucking her and you were hearing it.

Joel says something to her and the noise continues again, this time it was a little fast. Your heart was beating against your chest just as fast, if not faster. The sound of your heart beating almost muted the sounds of Joel and Tess fucking.

Joel's grunts got a little louder as Tess lets out a few fucks here and there along with a couple moans. You listen closely to the plap-plap-plap sound that were smothered by the wall.

There's no way that you were the only one hearing this because they were not quiet.

It probably would've been best if you put your headphones back on, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. There was something about it that made you furious, yet aroused. It shouldn't have, but it did and so much to the point that you felt a throb begin to form at your core.

You needed to relieve the ache somehow and suddenly this bright idea popped into your head. You slipped your underwear off and threw them somewhere off the bed before grabbing a pillow as you get onto your knees on the bed and tucked in the sides a bit, and straddled it.

You began to steadily rocking your hips back and forth, feeling your folds grind against the pillow and the wetness spreading as you became increasingly wet, as you tried to match the pace. Quiet whimpers escaped your mouth though you were trying to stay silent.

You felt like a creep listening to them and you knew you would feel ashamed of your actions later, but right now you didn't care, you just wanted to touch yourself.

At that moment, you thought back to earlier, remembering the way that Joel sat on the couch, sprawled out as he talked to Tess. You imagined him under you, seated the same way while you were on top of him grinding against his hard cock. His warm, rough hands would be gripping at your waist underneath your tank top, as he guided your hips. One of his hands would trail up to your braless breast and cup it while he would thumb at your erect nipple.

You grab onto the headboard, picturing it was his shoulders you were holding onto.

"Feel so good, daddy," You breathed out as if he were actually under you. "Makin' me feel soo good,"

"Atta girl, you like grindin' your pussy against this cock? Huh, baby?" he would ask you before letting out a loud grunt as he tried to hold back from cumming over his stomach and between your thighs.

Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you imagined this and your hips move faster against the pillow, making the headboard hit the wall harder.

"Yes, Joel," you moaned out as if he were actually there, not even realizing how loud you were.

You assumed you weren't being loud at all, but in actuality, you were. Tess and Joel had heard everything from the moment you started. Due to the wall and the fact that you were just so caught up in your own fantasies, you couldn't even hear them talking about you.

"S-she can hear us, Joel," Tess groaned out to Joel, but not once did Joel stop his thrust. He kept going because knowing that you were pleasuring yourself turned him on.

"Yeah? Let her hear," Joel purred as he felt Tess pulse around his cock. His thrust got faster, intensifying the harsh sound of the frame striking against the neighboring wall.

Just on the other side of the wall, you were hunched over listening to them and humping against the poor pillow. "P-Please, daddy, don't stop," You shook your head as you go to grip the pillow under you so you could get more friction. You could feel the sweat dripping down your face from how intense this whole thing was, but you didn't dare to stop.

You were barely listening to Joel and Tess anymore as you were close to your orgasm.

"Don't fuckin' stop," your torso was stiff as you opened your legs wider and pushed your core down on the pillow harder. Your toes wiggled and curled as you were seconds away from cumming. You whimpered Joel mindlessly the closer you got.

You needed this badly, you need him.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cumming," was the last thing you rasped before biting down on your lip. Not once did you stop nor slowed down the thrust of your hips as you shook with pleasure. You kept going as you chased your climax, hardly even breathing.

Right after you, Joel came shortly after.

"Aw, fuck!" he grunted loudly as he held onto Tess' hips. His seed spilling into the condom. Because his thoughts were so hazy at the moment and the only thing he could think of you, he nearly moaned out your name while fucking Tess, but thankfully he stopped himself before it could roll off his tongue.

"Shit, Joel," Tess groaned, cumming around his cock. Joel stayed behind her for a moment, still holding onto her buckling hips.

Eventually, Joel pulls out and collapses next to her before pulling the condom from his cock, tying it, and sat it on the nightstand. Tess does the same. They both say nothing to each other as they lay there.

Joel wondered what you were doing now.

Meanwhile, you were still trying to catch your breath, still holding onto the headboard as you tried to calm yourself.

You heard the talking as they got out the bed and moved around the room to put on their clothes you assumed.

Finally, Joel's door opens and you can hear them walking out of the room and go down stairs.

The front door opens as they quietly exchanged a few words to each other.

Joel eventually shuts the door and makes his way back upstairs. Once again, you could hear his heavy footsteps as he trot up the steps.

You decided that once he goes back in his room, you were going to dash to the bathroom to clean up the mess you made on yourself.

You were about to get out of the bed so you could clean yourself until heard Joel's feet about to shuffle past your door before he stopped right in front of it. You sat down on the middle of the bed, waiting for him to go to his room.

Joel hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should knock on your door, but he decided to do it anyway.

Joel's hard knuckles knocks at your door making your body go stiff. You were going to pull the blanket over your body and answer him, but you decided to pretend to act like you were sleeping.

You thought that this worked until your door suddenly swung open, revealing the large outline of Joel Miller. You scrambled to pull the duvet over the bare bottom-half of your body, hoping that he didn't see anything.

He stood there a moment before speaking up. "You good, sweetheart?" Joel asked you. He obviously knew you were awake.

It took you a few seconds before you replied as you were trying to calm your beating heart after he scared you. "Yeah, i'm fine, Joel," you said, thinking that he would just fuck off and go back to his room, he didn't. Instead, he came fully walked into the room and closed the door behind himself before making his way over to the bed.

"W-What the hell are you doing, Joel?" You asked him, caught off guard that he would just come in here.

Joel was going to speak until he realized something got caught onto his slipper as he approached the edge of your bed, making him suddenly stop and look down. Because it was dark in the room, he could tell what it was, but it was obvious that it was a piece of clothing. He bends down and grabs it, feeling a slight dampness to it before coming back up and holding the material out in front of him.

Joel goes to flick on the lights and your heart flutters when you see what he was holding. You look at Joel with a panic look on your face and see that he had this surprise, yet smug expression on his face.

It was your fucking underwear that you threw off.

"Look what we have here, sweetheart," He says as he walks closer to the bed, making you clutch the duvet closer to your body. "These yours?" He asked you even though he knew the answer.

"Can you put them down, please?" You pleaded with him silently as your face burned with embarrassment. He doesn't answer you, instead he brings the damp fabric up to his nose and inhales your scent, closing his eyes as he took it in. You let out a squeak, surprised that he was doing this.

Again, if this were anyone else you'd probably be creeped out by this, but there was something about Joel that made you want him badly.

"Smells so fuckin' good," he says as he pulled them away from his nose. You just look at him, mouth agape as he opens his eyes, balls up your panties into his hand, and sits on the edge of the bed. As if your grip couldn't get any tighter, you pull at the duvet again, hoping that Joel wasn't seeing anything under it. He immediately noticed you doing this and looked at you curiously with his dark eyes, making you feel nervous.

"What's under the blanket, baby?"Joel asked as he pointed at your lap.

You shook your head and avoided eye contact with him, "please don't make me do this, Joel," you begged him again, but he didn't budge one bit.

"Oh come on. Be a good girl and show me what you're hiding under there," He said sternly. You didn't need much convincing because you quickly gave into his demand. You slowly move the blanket off of you, shaking as the feeling the air hits between your legs.

Joel groans at the sight. "Baby, look at you," his deep southern voice says so softly as he brings his warm on on top of your thigh, making your thighs clench together.

"No no no, you don't close those legs unless I tell you, you understand me?" You nodded your head and let him pull your legs open.

"So beautiful up close," He groans out. His hand moved to the inside of your thigh and slid up, making you whimper. Your core throbbed again, longing for him, but he never did.

"Touch me, daddy, please." You whispered to him, so desperately.

"Mmm, not tonight, baby," He says, while his fingers continued to tease you. "Can you do somethin' for me?" He asked softly.

"Yes, Joel," you said and nodded your head without a second thought, ready to do anything he asked you.

"I want you to show me how you were touchin' yourself when you were listenin' to me and Tess,"

You stilled once he said this, you didn't know that he heard you moaning. "W-what?"

"Don't be so surprised, girl. You weren't bein' very quiet." He teased you before speaking up again. "Now, I want you to show me,"

You sat there for a moment, embarrassed that you were about to do this in front of Joel. You grab the cum-soaked pillow before getting up onto your knees on the bed and stradling it, trying not to look at him.

"Look at me." He orders. You look at him, feeling nervous as he watched you with his intense gaze. "Now, ride the pillow. Slowly."

At first, you were reluctant as you began to slowly grind against the pillow, so embarrassed at the moment that you couldn't even enjoy the pleasure. And the look on Joel's face made you want to die.

He brings his hand onto your thigh making your stop, "Relax yourself," he mutters.

You nod your head before you let out a loud sigh. You try to calm yourself down before you lean forward, making your back arch and held onto the pillow with one hand while the other kept you up.

You began to move your hips, this time feeling a little more comfortable as you did so. You let out a weak whine as the pillow grazed against your wet clit.

"Good, darlin', go a lil faster now,"

You didn't need any convincing with that, you instantly went faster, making the bed frame to knock against the wall.

Joel's cock jumped in his pants as he watched you with greed in his eyes. He wished he could take you right there, make you weep and bite into the pillow as he pounded into your wet pussy.

"Look at ya, humping that pillow like a slut," he groaned, thinking about you riding him the same way. "You like being a slut, don't you?" Joel asked you.

"Mmhmm—I love it so f-fucking much, Joel," You moaned as you convulse on the pillow, nearly cumming.

"P-please—" was all you said. You couldn't even get the words out of your mouth as the the uncontrollable waves of pleasure passed through your body.

"Please what, baby? What do you want?" He pressed for you to continue your sentence.

"Please touch me, I need to feel you right now," You grab Joel's hand from the bed and bring it up to your breast, taking him by surprise.

Such a needy girl, Joel thought as he felt your hard nipples through the cotton. He fumbled and teased at them before pinching your nipple, making you yelp loudly and your back arch more.

"Baby, you gotta be quiet or someone will hear you." He whispered to you, trying to get you to be quiet.

Instead of just being quiet, you shook your stubbornly, closed your eyes in pleasure, and bit your lips, loving the feeling you were experiencing right now.

"I don't give a fuck," You said as you breath out a humorless chuckle, after releasing your lip from your teeth.

The way you were acting right now in front of Joel surprised him a bit—it was different than the way you were this morning, even minutes ago. He didn't mind though, not one bit. Joel actually enjoyed seeing you this way. So wild, allowing your pleasure to take over.

"Oh shit, I'm gonna cum," You gasped out.

"Yeah? You gonna cum?" Joel teased. Mmhm, you whimpered in response as he releases your breast and starts to move his hand up your shirt, starting from your hips and going up your tank top. He palms your breast again, feeling the goosebumps rise on your skin, and flicks your nipple hard.

"Come on, cum for me, sweetheart. I wanna hear you moan for me," He eagerly said as he watched your body tremble, ready to fall apart for him. Your moans got louder and louder before your breathing hitched and got caught in your throat.

You came almost immediately, your body shook and your hand went to your clit as you keep on grinding on the pillow, intensifying your orgasm. "Daddy, oh fuu-shit!" you squeaked.

"Look at you, my pretty, slutty baby. Cummin' so hard f'me," he purred, but you couldn't get out your words. You were so overwhelmed that you nearly fell over as you tried to keep yourself up, but luckily you didn't.

Joel continued to spew out teasing comments as he egged on your climax, until you eventually calmed down a bit. He removed his hand from your shirt as your slumped against the bed with exhaustion.

He let out a chuckle as you face plant into the bed before giving your back some rubs as he tried to calm you down. You were breathing heavy as your body trembled and your hips rolled against the pillow, causing you to let out a dreamy moan.

"Oh darlin', come on, get up so you can lay down right...gonna hurt your back laying like that," Joel said to you softly. You were tired as hell and on the verge of falling asleep right there, so you stayed there for a little before getting up.

Once you did get up, you fell back into the soft pillows with your eyes closed as you felt yourself relax into them.

You can feel as Joel grabbed the pillow from that you humped from between your legs. You thought that he was going to put it to the side or something, but that wasn't the case at all.

"Oh, baby, look at the mess you made," you hear him say, almost moaning. Your eyes shoot open, which you catch him running his finger through your wetness on the pillow, bringing it to his mouth, and licking it off. He groaned the moment it touches his tongue, which made your eyes widen with shock and you let out a gasp.

To Joel, you tasted as good as you smelled and he loved it.

"Joel, why would you do that?" You asked him, shocked that he would do that.

He gives you a wide smirk, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. "Why not, baby? You taste so good."

You say nothing after this, feeling flustered by his actions.

It was quiet between the two of you until you remembered that you didn't have anything on from the waist down.

You were tired, but you gathered the strength to get up from the bed.

"Where you goin', sweet girl?" Joel asked you as you made your way to your bag.

There's that name again. You loved it when he called you that.

"Just grabbin' some shorts," you looked over at Joel as you bent down to grab your shorts and put them on, feeling his eyes on you, watching you so intensely. "I can feel you watching me, Mr. Miller," you tease him.

"Mr. Miller, huh?" You turned around and made your way back to the bed to find Joel still watching you.

You just nodded your head as you plopped down onto the bed a lay down. You pat the spot next to you, trying to get him to lay down next to you, which he obviously got the hint.

"Want me to lay with you, darlin'?" He looked over to you, searching your face for permission.

You quickly nodded your head as you scoot over to make room for Joel, making him crack a small smile on his hard face.

God he looked so handsome when he smiled.

"Alright, baby."

Joel laid on his back on the pillow next to you, making readjust yourself as you snuggled into him with your head and hand resting on his chest. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pressing you closer to his body.

You laid there listening to his steady heart beat, your heavy eyelids almost closed.

You noticed that he had all the chances to touch you, even have sex with you, yet he never did and it made you wonder why.

Before you could stop yourself, you called his name."Joel?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He asked

You hesitated before speaking up again, afraid of what you might hear from him, but fuck it.

"Why won't you touch me?" You asked him curiously, the sleep was audible in your voice.

He was quiet for a moment, making your wrench with rejection, until he spoke up. "One day, baby. Just not right now, okay?"

You nodded your head against his chest before answering. "Okay," You said softly, feeling somewhat content with his response, but still feeling a little rejected.

At least he didn't say never, you thought to yourself.

"Good girl, now get some sleep." He said, making you nuzzle into his chest and close your eyes, almost instantly drifting to sleep as you felt his hard body under you.

============================================

#smut #the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #neighbor!joel #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dads best friend #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf!joel x you

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e-dubbc11 · 10 months ago

Note

Ik the summer sleepover is long gone 🥲 But i got hit with Matt Murdock feels and I saw the angst prompt list. Feel free to ignore this!!!!!

So this is for my fave catholic hoe 🫠

"You have to let go." - Y/N's already dead and he keeps hallucinating that she's still there

"I give up. You won." - Y/N breaks up with Matt because he always keeps her at arms length but it reaches breaking point when Elektra comes back

Chose wisely 😭💖

I could never ignore anything you send me, my dear friend ♥️ I hope you like what I did. I went with the first one BUT your second prompt reminded me of a Matt fic I wrote awhile back called Unsung Hero, so if you’re feeling ambitious, I’ll leave it linked HERE.

Thank you for always sending me things that pop into your brain, I love them ♥️

Letting Go

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: Death, dealing with grief

Word Count: 1.4K-ish

Summary: You’ve been gone for awhile yet Matt still feels you everywhere he goes, he swears you’re there with him but you’re not and in order to start processing his grief, he has to say goodbye

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

It hit him every time he walked into the apartment. It was here where he felt an overwhelming sense of your presence…only you weren’t there, you had been dead for 8 months now.

Reminders of you were scattered all over the apartment like stray pairs of earrings on the nightstand, a bottle of your favorite perfume, or the blanket you used to when you were quietly reading on the couch.

Not having his sight, Matt was never exactly sure what you looked like. He only had the pictures in his mind. Based on the description you had given him, he knew your eye color, your hair color, and the tone of your skin but he remembered the softness in your voice, the curves and hollows of your body, and the sound of your heartbeat as you slept soundly next to him.

Matt could never see your smile but he knew when you were smiling. He felt it tug on his heart as it stretched across your face when he did something to make you laugh or when he called you “sweetheart” but it also crushed him to taste the salt in the air if you had been crying.

He loved the smell of fresh flowers you would bring home every Friday for your date night at home but you always bought ones that didn’t have a strong scent because you didn’t want it to be too overwhelming for him. He loved how considerate you were, worrying about overloading his senses, like if the music was too loud or if cleaning products were too strongly scented.

Matt’s only wish was that he could have kept you safe, he wished he could have protected you, and more than anything he wished he wasn��t the first one to hear your heart stop beating.

Everywhere he went, he felt you with him, and he swore you were there. When Matt stopped for his morning coffee or Thai food, he had to stop himself from ordering your usual. He just couldn’t believe you were gone. You were dead and never coming back.

The guilt ate at him every day. Matt blamed himself and his nights as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen suffered because of it. “What’s the point in doing this if I couldn’t save the one person I loved the most?” He had asked himself after a particularly bad night.

Talking to Father Lantom helped but not as much as he hoped it would. Matt wanted answers that Father Lantom didn’t have. He would just tell him that “God had his reasons.” And Matt just thought he was being punished in every way possible. It was the typical Catholic guilt.

“I know you don’t wanna hear it but you know exactly what I would do, Red. I’d make sure they’d never get back up again.” Frank had said.

By asking Frank for advice, you knew Matt’s desperation was apparent as he had seriously contemplated taking their life. He knew it wouldn’t bring you back but maybe it would make him feel better knowing he avenged your death.

Maybe the hallucinations would stop, maybe he would stop hearing your voice in his head, and just maybe it would stop him from reaching for you as he was trying to fall asleep at night. The scum of Hell’s Kitchen felt his wrath every night and with every punch he landed, with every drop of blood that was spilled, he had hoped he would start to feel better but he didn’t.

And what about the tortured and unspeakable dreams where he would have to hear you cry out in pain over and over again. The heartbreak Matt felt left him miserable enough to be vulnerable whether he was awake or asleep.

At least when he was awake, he could throw himself into his work, talk to Foggy and Karen, and you would be far away from his mind. It was the alone time that left him confused, angry, and ashamed. Those feelings infiltrated his body where his heart was scorched and irregular with spasms.

“I still feel her here, Foggy! I can still smell her perfume, feel her smile against my lips, and hear her laugh. I swear she’s still here!” Said Matt, emphatically.

“But she’s not Matt, she’s gone.” Foggy had said.

You knew all of this was true because you were stuck in between worlds, you could see him. And like an angel on his shoulder you were there with him, protecting him as he was protecting his city.

As he sat perched on the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen, you would reach for him, gently brushing his shoulder, and you were positive that he could tell you were there by the way his head would tilt to the side. You knew you couldn’t stay with him forever, but long enough to be able to tell him goodbye and that you were alright.

With his cheeks flushed with rage and his mouth twisted in anger, Matt left the office and headed for home even though that’s where he felt your presence the most.

He decided not to go out that night but instead he set aside the random belongings that you had left behind, held them in between his fingers, and gently inhaled the scent of your perfume one last time.

“You’re here with me now, aren’t you angel. I know you are; I’m not crazy like Foggy thinks I am.” Said Matt.

You’d give anything to be able to touch him again, to feel his days-old stubble against your cheek, or run your fingers through his soft brown hair.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling but knew you didn’t have much time so you moved in close to look at him one more time.

Matt was so handsome. You were going to miss his hazel colored eyes with the little flecks of gold like autumn leaves, the dimple on his cheek when he smiled, his soft full lips against yours, and the low gravelly tone of his voice. It always sounded so calm and soothing to you except on the night you died.

His screams could probably be heard for blocks in every direction but he was the last thing you saw before your world went dark and you were suddenly looking down at your body while Matt tried and then the paramedics tried to revive you.

After your funeral, Matt stayed after everyone else had left and apologized profusely for not being able to save you. Matt had to let you go but he told himself that burden of guilt rested on his shoulders. Although, you knew it wasn’t his fault.

You knew he couldn’t hear you but you replied anyway.

“I’m here, Matty, but I have a feeling not for much longer.” You said, trying to touch his hand but it just passed straight through and maybe you willed him to hear you as you spoke again. “You have to let go.”

You sensed he was ready to say goodbye which pained you more than that mugger’s lethal stab wound ever could.

“I don’t want to but I have to let you go, sweetheart.” Matt said as his eyes shined with unshed tears. “I’ll always love you, y/n.”

If you were capable of crying, you would have.

“I’ll always love you too, Matt.” You said with a warm smile and “touching” his face.

He closed his eyes and let out a long exhale just as you swept your hand across his cheek, almost as if he could feel your touches.

A slight smirk stretched across his lips as he said, “You’re trying to tell me you’re ok, aren’t you.”

Your hand ghosted against his other cheek and he smiled again.

“I’m ok, Matty. It’s alright, you can let go now.” You said.

The light at your back was calling to you. It was time to go. Although you didn’t know where you were being called to, you wished with all your heart that Matt would be alright and deep down, you knew he would be.

As you turned to walk away, you gazed at Matt one last time, committing to memory what he was wearing, the look on his face, and any other small things you never wanted to forget about him.

You loved the way he adjusts his glasses, rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up, the way he puts his suit on in the morning, or anytime he kissed you and told you he loved you.

You wondered if he had little things about you he committed to his memory, and if he did, what were they? It made you sad that you’ll never know what they could be but you hoped that Matt Murdock would never ever forget you.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @chezagnes @elgrandeavocados @freshabogados @matt-erialgirl

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @k-marzolf @fluffyprettykitty @hellskitchens-whore

Thank you for reading, I appreciate it! I’ve only tagged a handful of people. If you liked it, you can tell me, I don’t bite. I know I haven’t written for Matt in awhile, no pressure.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock angst

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isthiscoinsidenceorasign · 1 month ago

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She's Theirs: Blame It on the Tequila

Title: Blame It on the Tequila Summary: Nichole meets Bradley and Jake for the first time at The Hard Deck. Word Count: 10,341 Warnings: Drinking, drunk sex, flirting, threesome, oral sex, P in V, double vaginal penetration, slight praise kink Tags: Smut Author Notes: Hey guys! This is my first official TGM story. It's a bit different then the stories you're probably use to reading, being that it's polyamorous. There's also going to be A LOT of smut!!! I didn't intend for there to be as much as there is but y'all have seen Glen and Miles. It's honestly there fault for looking so good and causing me to think dirty, smutty thoughts. I also would like to warn readers that a lot of the chapters are very long. I'm trying to go through what I've already written and see what I can break into different chapters so they're not as long. And I'm also trying to keep the chapter length in mind for anything new I write. Hence why I put up a poll asking about story length. So if you like long chapters this story is definitely for you! If not I'm sorry in advance! Anyways I hope y'all enjoy the story!

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Nichole sat at the bar sipping her beer that Penny had gotten her moments ago.

Penny had decided to offer live music and scored a local popular band, Fuselage, to play out on the deck. She decided to invite her boyfriends daughter Nichole to the first performance.

As she took a swig of her beer she noticed a man in a Hawaiian T-shirt and white wife beater appear next to her.

Nichole glanced sideways at the newcomer, her eyebrow arching slightly as she took in his attire. The clash of tropical print and stark white undershirt was almost as jarring as his sudden appearance at her elbow. She took another sip of her beer, savoring the crisp taste as she waited to see if Hawaiian Shirt Guy would make a move.

"Nice night for some music," he said, leaning casually against the bar.

Nichole smirked, her father's trademark expression playing across her features. "I'd say it's a nice night for a lot of things," she replied, her tone playful but guarded. Let’s see what kind of angle you’re working here, Hawaiian Shirt Guy, she thought to her self. She took another sip of her beer, watching him over the rim of her glass like a cat sizing up a new toy.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Penny watching their interaction, a knowing look on the older woman's face. Nichole suppressed a grin, wondering what sage advice her father's girlfriend would offer later about this encounter.

The band could be heard setting up on the deck.

"I'm Bradley," Hawaiian Shirt Guy said, offering his hand with a confidence that suggested he wasn't accustomed to rejection.

"Nick," she replied, giving his hand a firm shake that matched his own.

"Nick," he repeated, holding her gaze a beat longer than necessary. "Short for Nicole, I'm guessing?"

"Nichole," she corrected, emphasizing the 'h' with a slight tilt of her head. "But only my mother calls me that when she's pissed."

Bradley laughed, a warm sound that seemed to rise from somewhere genuine. "Fair enough. And what brings you to The Hard Deck tonight, Nick?"

She gestured toward Penny, who was now expertly mixing cocktails down the bar. "A friend invited me. You?"

"I fly with the squadron based at North Island," he said, the statement simple but carrying weight. "This place is something of a tradition."

Nichole's interest piqued, though she kept her expression neutral. Growing up around pilots had taught her to recognize the subtle tells—the straight posture, the calculated awareness of surroundings, the underlying intensity beneath the casual demeanor. This guy was definitely a naval aviator.

"North Island, huh?" Nichole swirled the remaining beer in her bottle, her gaze steady on Bradley, as if trying to gauge the depth of his confidence "You must know your way around an F/A-18 then."

Bradley's eyebrows rose slightly, surprise and intrigue flashing across his face. "You know your aircraft."

"Let's just say I've spent some time around hangars," Nichole replied with a cryptic smile.

As she glanced at Bradley, Nichole noticed a shift in his posture. The easy confidence he'd exuded just moments ago seemed to harden, his frame growing taut like a wire pulled just shy of snapping. His shoulders squared subtly, his gaze sharpening as though scanning for an incoming threat—or perhaps, an unavoidable confrontation. It wasn’t alarm exactly, but there was a guarded precision in the way he held himself now, a readiness that piqued her interest. Before she could put her finger on it, a voice cut through the din of the bar. Bradley had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The familiar voice drawled, a hint of amusement coloring the words.

Nichole turned, her green eyes lighting up at the sight of the mystery hunk standing next to her. She had never met him before but could sense that Bradley had.

Nichole's gaze flickered between the two men, sensing the sudden tension crackling in the air. The newcomer exuded cocky confidence, his smirk a mirror image of her own trademark expression. She couldn't help but feel a spark of intrigue.

"Hangman," Bradley said, his tone carefully neutral. "Didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"What can I say, Rooster? I'm full of surprises," Hangman replied, his eyes never leaving Nichole. "And who's this lovely lady you've been keeping all to yourself?"

Nichole raised an eyebrow, amused by the obvious rivalry between the two pilots. She decided to take control of the situation.

"Nick," she said, extending her hand to Hangman. "And I assure you, no one's keeping me to themselves."

Hangman's grin widened as he took her hand, holding it a fraction longer than necessary. "Jake Seresin," he introduced himself, his voice dropping to a silky timbre. "Though most people just call me Hangman."

"Let me guess," Nichole said, withdrawing her hand with deliberate slowness. "Because you've left a trail of broken hearts hanging."

Jake laughed, a rich sound that seemed to vibrate through her. "That's one theory. I prefer to keep people guessing about the origin story."

Bradley shifted his weight, the movement subtle but enough to remind them both of his presence. "Hangman here is one of our squadron's more... memorable pilots."

"What Rooster means," Jake interjected, leaning closer to Nichole, "is that I'm the best damn pilot in the program."

"Second best," Bradley corrected with practiced calm, though Nichole noticed the slight tightening around his eyes.

"Is that what they're teaching you in those simulators now?" Jake shot back, his smile never wavering even as the barb hit its mark.

Nichole suppressed a smile, watching the two men circle each other verbally. Their rivalry had the well-worn feel of something that had been simmering for years. She folded her arms over her chest, leaning back slightly as though preparing to enjoy the show.

"Nichole raised her beer in a mock toast, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she glanced between the two pilots. 'Now, now, boys, let's not make it a competition... unless there's a trophy involved.'

Jake's eyes darkened at her double entendre, a flash of heat passing between them that made her pulse quicken. "I'd be happy to give you a personal demonstration sometime."

"I bet you would," Nichole replied, her voice dropping to match his. She took another slow sip of her beer, letting her lips linger on the glass’s edge.

Bradley cleared his throat. "Nick was just telling me she knows her way around an F/A-18."

Jake's interest visibly heightened, his posture shifting subtly toward her. "Is that right? Aviation enthusiast or something more?"

Nichole shrugged, enjoying the power of withholding. "Let's just say I've spent my life around flyboys. Takes more than a call sign to impress me."

The band struck their first chord outside, the vibration of bass pulsing through the wooden floorboards. The deck was beginning to fill with patrons, their silhouettes backlit by the string lights Penny had hung earlier that day.

"Dance with me," Jake said suddenly, the request carrying the weight of a command.

Jake’s words hung in the air, charged and deliberate. Nichole blinked, the faintest trace of surprise flickering in her eyes before a slow smile curved her lips. Bold move, she thought, her fingers tracing the rim of her beer bottle as if weighing her stien. She let the silence stretch, savoring the tension, before Bradley cleared his throat behind her.

"We were in the middle of a conversation, Hangman." Bradley's jaw tightened.

"Were we?" Jake's eyes never left hers.

“I'll dance with you but only if Bradley can join us.” She admitted, not wanting to choose between either man.

Jake's eyes widened slightly, his confident smirk faltering for just a moment before he recovered. "Both of us? That's...a first."

"I'm an unconventional girl," Nichole replied, setting her beer down with deliberate precision. "Besides, I've always believed in equal opportunity."

Bradley's expression was unreadable, but something flickered behind his hazel eyes—surprise, curiosity, perhaps even a hint of desire. "I don't think that's—"

"Afraid you can't keep up, Rooster?" Jake challenged, already extending his hand to Nichole.

The band had shifted into something with a heavy, insistent beat that seemed to match the sudden tension between the three of them. Nichole slid off her barstool, her movements liquid and confident.

"Coming, Bradley?" she asked over her shoulder, already being led toward the crowd.

Seeing the look she gave him he didn't think twice and followed after her and Jake.

On the way outside Nichole stopped when saw one of the bar workers passing out complimentary shots on a big tray. She picked up three shot glasses of tequila, one for each of them. The worker gave her a knowing smile before moving on to pass out more drinks.

Nichole handed a shot to each of the pilots, her fingers brushing against theirs deliberately. "To new adventures," she said with a mischievous glint in her eye, raising her glass.

Jake and Bradley exchanged a glance for a few moments before clinking their shots together with Nichole's. The tequila burned a path down their throats, setting the tone for what promised to be an interesting night. Nichole shook her head, letting the alcohol warm her body.

As they stepped onto the crowded deck, the music enveloped them. Nichole moved between the two men, her body swaying to the rhythm. She reached back, grabbing Bradley's hand to pull him closer while maintaining eye contact with Jake.

"Let's see if you flyboys can keep up," she challenged, her voice barely audible over the music.

Jake's hands found her hips, his touch confident and possessive. Bradley hesitated for a moment before placing his hands on her waist.

Nichole felt the heat of their bodies pressing against her as she moved to the pulsing beat. The tequila warmed her veins, lowering her inhibitions just enough to make this deliciously dangerous. She rolled her hips, feeling Jake's grip tighten in response. Behind her, Bradley's breath hitched as she pressed back against him.

The song shifted, the tempo increasing. Nichole raised her arms, letting her fingers trail along Jake's jawline before reaching back to tangle in Bradley's hair. She could feel the tension radiating off both men, their rivalry momentarily forgotten as they focused solely on her.

"You're playing with fire, Nick," Jake murmured in her ear, his lips brushing against her skin.

She turned her head, meeting his intense gaze as her pulse quickened. "Maybe I like getting burned," she replied, her voice husky.

Bradley's hands slid further up her waist, his fingers spreading possessively across her abdomen. The boldness of his touch surprised her, sending a delicious shiver up her spine.

"You should know," he murmured against her ear, his voice low and unexpectedly commanding as his mustache gently tickled her skin, "that we take our competitions very seriously."

Nichole turned her head slightly, catching the dangerous glint in his eyes. This steady, controlled pilot had depths she hadn't anticipated. The revelation sent a rush of heat through her core. She allowed Jake to twirl her around before pressing herself further into Bradley. Almost grinding against him.

"Is that what this is now?" she asked, deliberately rolling her hips between them. "A competition?"

Jake's laugh was dark and promising as his hands trailed up her sides, fingertips just grazing the curve of her breasts. "Everything between Rooster and me is a competition, sweetheart. The question is—" his lips brushed against her neck, "—

"—who are you going to declare the winner?"

Nichole's breath caught at Jake's bold words and Bradley's firm grip. She was acutely aware of being sandwiched between two powerful, competitive men, their bodies moving in sync with hers to the pulsing beat. The air around them felt electric, charged with an intoxicating mix of rivalry and desire.

"Bold of you to assume I'll choose just one," Nichole purred, tilting her head to give Jake better access to her neck while pressing back against Bradley's solid chest making him readjust his stance. "Maybe I want to see how you both perform."

Bradley's fingers flexed against her stomach, his touch searing through the thin fabric of her tank top. "Careful what you wish for," he warned, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

Another bartender was walking nearby with a tray full of tequila shots. Nichole gave the woman a knowing look, beckoning her to her.

Jake's lips curved into a wicked smile against her skin. "—oh, I think she knows exactly what she's asking for," Jake finished, reaching past Nichole to snag three more shots from the passing tray.

The bartender gave them a sly smile before disappearing back into the crowd. Jake handed a shot to Nichole, his fingers lingering against hers, then passed one to Bradley with a challenging look.

"To performance reviews," Jake said with a smirk, raising his glass.

Nichole's lips curved into a smile as she clinked her glass against both of theirs. "May the best man... or men... win."

They downed the shots in unison, the tequila burning a familiar path down her throat as before. She closed her eyes letting herself savor the way the liquid felt going down her esophagus.

The music seemed to intensify, the bass thrumming through her body as she resumed dancing between them.

Nichole felt the tequila hitting her system, amplifying the heat radiating from the two men pressed against her. She let her inhibitions slip away, losing herself in the pulsing rhythm and the electric tension between them.

Her hands roamed freely now, one reaching back to grip Bradley's neck while the other traced the firm planes of Jake's chest. She could feel their breathing grow heavier, their touches becoming bolder with each passing moment.

Jake's lips found her pulse point, teeth grazing lightly against her sensitive skin. A soft gasp escaped her, encouraging him further. Not to be outdone, Bradley's hands slid lower, fingers hooking into the belt loops of her jeans and pulling her hips back against him.

The competitive energy between the two pilots was palpable, each trying to outdo the other in their attentions to Nichole. She reveled in it, playing them off each other.

"You boys certainly know how to make a girl feel appreciated," Nichole purred, arching her back to press herself more firmly against Bradley's chest. One of her hands moving to casually brush against Jake's crotch.

"So what's it going to be, Nick?" Jake's voice was rough against her ear due to casual sensation, his breath hot on her skin. "His place or mine?"

Nichole laughed, the sound low and throaty as she turned in their embrace, somehow managing to keep both men close. "Aren't you two getting ahead of yourselves?" she teased, though her eyes told a different story.

Bradley's gaze darkened as he watched her, his usual restraint wavering. "Maybe. But something tells me you've already made up your mind."

She looked between them, her green eyes glittering with mischief in the string lights overhead. She noticed a flicker of vulnerability in Bradley's eyes. As if he felt she wouldn't choose him.

The band had shifted to something slower now, the sultry notes wrapping around them like a caress.

"I have. I decided we should get another round of shots.” She smirked.

Jake groaned, his hands tightening possessively on her hips. "You're a tease," he accused, but his eyes sparkled with appreciation for her game.

"Not teasing if I plan to follow through," Nichole countered, stepping out of their embrace but catching both their hands. "I just believe in... thorough evaluation."

Bradley's laugh was unexpected—deep and genuine. "Careful, Hangman. I think we've met our match."

They gripped her hands as they made their way back to the bar, the crowd parting for them as if sensing the charged energy between the trio. Penny caught Nichole's eye from behind the bar, raising an eyebrow at the sight of her flanked by the two clearly interested pilots. Nichole responded with a subtle wink that made Penny shake her head in amused disbelief.

"Three tequilas," Nichole called over the loud music. “Hell make it six.”

"Six it is," Penny replied with a knowing look, lining up the shot glasses and filling them with golden liquid. "You sure you know what you're doing, honey?"

"Never been more sure of anything," Nichole answered, her voice carrying a confidence that made both men shift closer to her.

Jake leaned against the bar, his body angled toward her. "So, Nick," he said, rolling her name across his tongue like he was tasting it, "what exactly does this thorough evaluation of yours entail?"

Bradley's eyes never left her face, his quiet intensity a counterpoint to Jake's open challenge.

Nichole picked up two shots, handing one to each pilot. "First test—following instructions." She lifted her own shot glass. "These two are for drinking. The next two..." She leaned in, lowering her voice so only they could hear, "I'm thinking body shots.”

Jake's eyes darkened with desire, while Bradley's expression remained carefully controlled, though Nichole noticed his pupils dilate at her suggestion.

"Body shots," Jake repeated, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes widened slightly with pleasant surprise. " Finally, something I can get behind."

"Question is," Bradley said, his composed demeanor belied by the intensity in his gaze, "who's going to be the canvas?"

Nichole downed her shot, relishing the burn as she set the empty glass on the bar with deliberate precision. "Me first," she decided, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Then we'll see about taking turns."

Jake and Bradley exchanged a look—half challenge, half something deeper that Nichole couldn't quite decipher. They knocked back their shots simultaneously, neither breaking eye contact with the other.

Penny slid the remaining three shots toward them, a hint of amusement playing across her features.

Nichole gave the boys a playful wink before she hopped up onto the bar, her movements fluid despite the tequila coursing through her system. She lay back, the cool wood pressing against her skin as she lifted the hem of her tank top, exposing a strip of toned stomach.

She felt completely exhilarated as she looked up at both men. A rush of heat cursing through her veins.

"Who's first?" she challenged, her voice husky with anticipation.

Jake stepped forward, his eyes raking over her body. "Ladies' choice," he said, his trademark smirk in place.

Nichole smirked before her gaze flicked to Bradley, noting the way his jaw clenched as he watched them. There was slight hesitation etched across his features. "What do you say, Bradley? Care to show us how it's done?"

Bradley hesitated for a split second before moving closer, his usual reserve cracking under the weight of desire. He took the shot glass, his fingers brushing against hers deliberately.

"Hold still," he murmured, his voice low and commanding.

Nichole shivered as Bradley's warm breath ghosted across her exposed skin. With extreme slowness, he poured the tequila into the shallow dip of her navel, his steady hand never wavering. Their eyes locked as he leaned down, his lips just brushing her stomach as he lapped up the liquid.

A soft gasp escaped her as his tongue swirled against her skin, taking his time to ensure he didn't miss a drop. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with barely restrained hunger.

"Your turn, Hangman," Bradley said, his voice rough as he stepped back.

Jake didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed the next shot, his movements more aggressive than Bradley's as he poured the tequila onto Nichole's stomach. She arched slightly at the cool sensation, earning a low growl from Jake.

Jake dipped his head, his lips and tongue making contact with Nichole's skin in a searing caress. Unlike Bradley's methodical approach, Jake was all passion and urgency, his teeth grazing her flesh as he lapped up the tequila. Nichole couldn't suppress the moan that escaped her lips, her body arching into his touch.

When Jake finally pulled away, his eyes were dark with desire. "Damn," he breathed, his voice husky.

Nichole sat up slowly, her skin tingling where their mouths had been. She could feel the heat of their gazes on her, the air thick with tension and unspoken promises.

"My turn," she announced, sliding off the bar with feline grace. She picked up the last shot, her eyes moving between the two pilots. "Shirts off, boys. Let's see who makes the better canvas."

Jake didn't hesitate, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion to reveal a muscled torso. Bradley followed suit a moment later, his movements more measured but no less enticing as he stripped off Hawaiian shirt followed by his white wife beater.

Nichole's eyes roamed appreciatively over both men's sculpted physiques. "Well, well," she purred. "Looks like all those flight hours pay off in more ways than one."

She approached Jake first, the shot glass held delicately between her fingers. With deliberate slowness, she poured a thin line of tequila along his collarbone, watching as it trickled down his chest.

Jake's breath hitched as Nichole leaned in, her lips brushing against his skin as she licked a path along the tequila trail. She took her time, savoring the salt of his skin mixed with the burn of the alcohol.

Nichole's tongue continued to trace a slow, deliberate path along Jake's collarbone, following the trail of tequila down his chest. She could feel his muscles tense under her touch, his breathing growing ragged. When she reached the end of the liquor's path, she placed a light nip on his pec, eliciting a low groan from Jake.

She pulled back, her eyes dark with desire as she met his heated gaze. "Not bad, Hangman," she murmured, her voice husky. "But let's see how Rooster measures up."

Turning to Bradley, Nichole saw the barely contained hunger in his eyes. His usual composure was cracking, replaced by an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. She approached him slowly, the remaining tequila sloshing in the shot glass.

With calculated precision, she poured the golden liquid into the hollow at the base of Bradley's throat, watching intently as it pooled there before trickling down the defined planes of his chest. Unlike Jake's eagerness, Bradley stood perfectly still, his control evident in every taut muscle.

Nichole leaned in, her lips hovering just above his skin. "Let's see what you're made of, Rooster," she whispered before her tongue dipped into the hollow of his throat.

Bradley's sharp intake of breath was the only indication that her actions affected him. His hands remained at his sides, though she could see his fingers curling into fists as she slowly licked the trail of tequila down his chest. When she reached his sternum, she looked up at him through her lashes, purposefully maintaining eye contact as her tongue made one final, lingering sweep across his skin. She let one of her hands move to slide down his chest. Loving the feel of his toned body underneath her small hand.

Both men were equally attractive in there own ways. But one thing they had in common was how horny they were making her.

"Jesus," he muttered, his voice strained.

Nichole straightened, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she observed both pilots' reactions. The tequila had left her pleasantly buzzed, her inhibitions falling away like autumn leaves.

Three more shots were placed on the bar. They were probably for someone else but she didn't care. Nick passed one to both men, leaving the third for herself. She quickly downed it causing the two pilots to follow suit. She the watched them for a moment, loving the way they practically worshiped her with there eyes.

"I think," she said, her voice low and sultry, "that further evaluation requires a more... private setting."

Jake's eyes darkened with desire. "My place is ten minutes from here."

"Mine's closer," Bradley countered, the competition between them intensifying.

Nichole laughed, the sound rich and full of promise. "Boys, boys," she chided, trailing her fingers down both their chests. "Why choose?"

Their expressions shifted simultaneously, surprise giving way to intrigue as they processed her meaning.

"You're suggesting..." Bradley began, his usually composed voice rough with want.

"Both of us?" Jake finished, his trademark cockiness momentarily replaced by genuine surprise.

Nichole's lips curved into a wicked smile as she traced a finger along Bradley's jawline and then Jake's. "What's the matter, flyboys? Can't handle a little... unconventional mission?"

The challenge in her voice was unmistakable, hanging in the air between them like a gauntlet thrown. For a moment, the two rivals exchanged a loaded glance—something unspoken passing between them that transcended their usual competition.

Jake recovered first, his trademark smirk sliding back into place. "Sweetheart, there's nothing I can't handle," he drawled, moving closer until his chest brushed against her back.

Bradley's eyes darkened, his gaze intense as he stepped forward, effectively sandwiching Nichole between them once more. "You sure about this, Nick?" he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Her answer was to reach up and pull Bradley's face down to hers, capturing his lips in a searing kiss that left no doubt about her intentions. He responded immediately, one hand tangling in her dark hair while the other gripped her hip possessively.

Jake growled behind her, his lips finding the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. His teeth grazed her skin, sending shivers cascading down her spine as his hands slid around her waist.

When Nichole finally broke the kiss with Bradley, she was breathing hard, her pupils dilated with desire. She turned her head, meeting Jake's hungry gaze before pulling him into an equally passionate kiss. Bradley's lips moved to her exposed neck, his controlled demeanor giving way to something primal.

"So," she breathed when she finally pulled away from Jake, "whose place is it going to be?"

"Mine," they answered in unison.

Nick laughed. “We'll go to my place. I have a California king bed.” She winked.

Both men paused, exchanging glances that contained equal parts surprise and competitive interest.

"Your place it is," Bradley said, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that made heat pool in Nichole's belly.

Jake's fingers traced patterns along her hip. "Lead the way, sweetheart."

Nichole grinned wildly before she disentangled herself from between them, immediately missing their heat. Both men grabbed there discarded clothes and immediately put them on. She grabbed her jacket from the barstool and caught Penny's knowing look from behind the bar. The older woman raised an eyebrow that clearly said "be careful," but there was no judgment in her expression—just concern wrapped in understanding.

Nichole gave her a subtle nod before turning back to the pilots. "My car's out front."

Both men said no at the same time.

“I'll order us an Uber.” Jake insisted.

With the alcohol they had tonight it was wise that neither one of them drive.

Nichole grinned at their synchronized response. "Smart boys. Uber it is."

Jake already had his phone out, fingers moving across the screen. "Seven minutes," he announced, his eyes never leaving her face.

The anticipation between them crackled like electricity as they made their way to the exit. Nichole felt Bradley's hand at the small of her back, a possessive gesture that Jake quickly mirrored on her opposite side. The competing touches sent delicious shivers up her spine.

Outside, the cool night air did little to dampen the heat building between them. They stood in the parking lot, the string lights from the deck casting them in a soft glow. Nichole found herself sandwiched between them again, Bradley in front of her, Jake behind, their bodies creating a cocoon of warmth and mounting desire.

"Second thoughts?" Bradley murmured, his eyes searching hers.

Nichole shook her head, her green eyes gleaming with certainty. "Not a single one," she replied, running her hands up Bradley's chest. "Though I am wondering which one of you is going to take charge." She said slow walking her fingers up Jake's chest.

Jake's laugh was low and dangerous against her ear. “Sweetheart, you’re in good hands.”

The intensity in Bradley's gaze deepened, something primal emerging from beneath his controlled exterior. "We might be rivals in the air," he said, his voice dropping to a commanding timbre that made her pulse quicken, "but we know how to work together when the mission requires it."

The Uber's headlights swept across them, illuminating the three figures locked in their intimate tableau. Reluctantly, they separated, though Jake's hand remained firmly at the small of her back as they approached the vehicle.

The ride to Nichole's place was charged with tension, and it didn't help when she placed a hand on each of there legs.

The car ride was a delicious kind of torture. Nichole sat between them in the back seat, the tight quarters forcing their thighs to press against hers. Every bump in the road pushed them closer together, creating friction that had nothing to do with the vehicle's suspension.

She kept her hands on their legs, fingers occasionally tracing small circles that inched higher with each passing minute. Jake's arm draped across the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing Bradley's shoulder in what might have seemed accidental if not for the loaded glance they exchanged above her head.

Nichole softly started to sing to a song that came on the car's radio, her voice impressively steady despite Bradley's hand finding its way to her inner thigh, his touch firm and possessive. On her other side, Jake's lips brushed against her ear as he murmured, "You have a beautiful voice. I bet you make even prettier sounds in bed."

A shiver ran through her at his words, her breath catching slightly. She turned her head, meeting Jake's intense gaze. "Why don't you find out for yourself?" she challenged in a whisper.

Bradley's fingers flexed on her thigh, a subtle reminder of his presence. Nichole's other hand found his, intertwining their fingers as she held Jake's stare.

Nichole's fingers danced higher up their thighs, her touch deliberate and teasing. Bradley's breathing deepened while Jake's jaw tightened visibly. When the driver hit a pothole, she let her hand brush briefly against the growing bulge in Jake's pants, eliciting a barely suppressed groan.

"Behave," Bradley murmured in her ear, though his own hand had drifted dangerously high on her thigh.

"Where's the fun in that?" she whispered back, turning to meet his gaze with a challenging look.

The Uber pulled up to her building, a modern apartment complex with a view of the bay. As they stepped out, the cool night air did nothing to dampen the heat between them. Jake's hand found the small of her back as they walked toward the entrance, while Bradley stayed close on her other side.

In the elevator, the tension between them reached a fever pitch. As soon as the doors closed, Jake pressed Nichole against the mirrored wall, his lips crashing down on hers in a searing kiss. She responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

Bradley watched for a moment, his eyes dark with desire, before stepping forward. His hand cupped the back of Nichole's neck, gently but firmly turning her face away from Jake and towards him. His kiss was slower, more controlled, but no less passionate.

Nichole moaned softly into Bradley's mouth as Jake's lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. She was acutely aware of being sandwiched between their hard bodies, the heat of their desire palpable in the small space.

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at her floor. They broke apart, all three breathing heavily. Nichole's eyes were dark with desire as she looked between the two pilots.

"Last chance to back out, boys," she said, her voice husky.

Jake's trademark smirk returned. "Not a chance in hell, sweetheart."

Bradley's response was more subtle - a slight tightening of his jaw and an intensity in his gaze that sent shivers down Nichole's spine.

She led them down the hallway, fumbling slightly with her keys as she reached her door. The anticipation was making her hands shake. Finally, she got the door open and stepped inside, flicking on the lights.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jake spun her around, pressing her against the door as his lips found hers in a hungry kiss. Bradley moved behind her, his hands sliding under her tank top to caress the smooth skin of her stomach. Her jacket that she was holding fell from her hand with a semi loud thud to the floor.

Nichole moaned into Jake's mouth as Bradley's fingers traced up her ribcage, grazing the underside of her breasts. She arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against Bradley's chest while pulling Jake closer by his belt loops.

Jake broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he looked over her shoulder at Bradley. Some unspoken communication passed between them, and suddenly Nichole found herself being lifted, Jake's hands under her thighs as he carried her towards the bedroom.

Bradley followed close behind, already taking off his button up shirt. As Jake set Nichole down on the edge of the bed, Bradley knelt in front of her, his hands running up her jean-clad thighs with intentional slowness. His eyes, usually so controlled, now burned with undisguised hunger.

"Been thinking about this since I first saw you at the bar," Bradley murmured, his fingers finding the button of her jeans.

Jake moved behind her, his chest pressing against her back as his hands slid under her tank top. "For once, I agree with Rooster," he said, his voice rough against her ear. "Sweetheart,my thoughts would make you blush."

Nichole laughed, the sound turning into a gasp as Bradley popped open the button of her jeans and slowly dragged the zipper down. "Care to share those thoughts, Hangman?" she challenged, tilting her had. “Because if you think I'd blush at yours, I'd love to see what you’d do with mine.” She said as she dragged a finger a long his jawline.

Jake's lips curved into a wicked smile against her neck. "Let's just say they involve seeing how many times we can make you come tonight."

Nichole's breath hitched as Bradley's fingers hooked into the waistband of her jeans, tugging them down her hips with agonizing slowness. The cool air kissed her exposed skin, making her shiver—or perhaps it was the hungry look in his eyes as he revealed her black lace underwear.

"I like the way you think," she purred, lifting her hips to help Bradley remove her jeans completely.

As Bradley tossed her jeans aside, Jake's hands slid under her tank top, his calloused palms rough against her smooth skin as they moved upward. In one fluid motion, he pulled the garment over her head, leaving her in just her matching black bra and panties.

Both men paused, drinking in the sight of Nichole's toned body clad only in black lace. Jake's hands skimmed down her sides, his touch feather-light and teasing. Bradley's eyes darkened as he took in every curve, his fingers tracing the edge of her panties with exaggerated slowness.

"Beautiful," Bradley murmured, his voice rough with desire.

Jake hummed in agreement, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind Nichole's ear. "Absolutely stunning," he added, his breath hot against her skin.

Nichole arched into their touches, her body thrumming with anticipation. "You two are wearing far too many clothes," she observed, her voice husky.

As if on cue, both men began to undress. Jake stepped back, quickly shedding his remaining clothes. Bradley stood, his movements more measured but no less urgent as undressed. He then kneeled on the bed and leaned forward.

Bradley's fingers brushed against the clasp of her bra, unhooking it with practiced ease. As the lace fell away, Jake's hands cupped her breasts from behind, his thumbs grazing over her hardened nipples.

"Fuck," Bradley muttered, his composure slipping as he watched Jake's hands on her. The rivalry between them transformed into something different—a shared mission to unravel her completely.

Nichole gasped as Bradley dropped to his knees again, his lips trailing hot kisses across her stomach while Jake continued his ministrations. Their choreographed movements suggested they'd done this before, though she doubted they'd ever shared a woman quite like her.

"Bed," she commanded breathlessly. "Now."

They complied immediately, Jake lifting her with surprising gentleness while Bradley pulled back the covers. As they laid her down, Nichole got her first

unobstructed view of both men fully naked. Their bodies were sculpted by years of rigorous training—Jake leaner and more wiry, Bradley with broader shoulders and a more solid build. Both equally impressive in their arousal.

"Like what you see?" Jake asked, his trademark cockiness returning as he noticed her appreciative gaze.

"Very much," Nichole purred, beckoning them both toward her. "Now come here and show me what those pilot hands can do."

Bradley reached her first, his body covering hers as he captured her lips in a searing kiss. His weight pressed her into the mattress, the delicious pressure making her arch up against him. Jake moved to her side, his lips finding her breast while his hand slid down her stomach.

Bradley's mouth moved from Nichole's lips to her neck, trailing hot kisses down her throat as Jake's tongue circled her nipple. She moaned, arching into their touch, her hands gripping Bradley's shoulders.

"God, you taste good," Bradley murmured against her collarbone, his usual restraint crumbling with each passing second.

Jake's hand slid lower, fingers tracing the edge of her lace panties before dipping beneath the fabric. He groaned at the wetness he found there. "So ready for us," he said, his voice rough with desire.

Nichole gasped as Jake's fingers found her center, circling with deliberate slowness. Bradley captured her moan with his mouth, kissing her deeply as his hand joined Jake's exploration, tugging her panties down her legs.

"Tell us what you want, Nick," Bradley commanded, his voice dropping to that authoritative tone that sent shivers racing down her spine.

Nichole arched into their touch, her body aflame with desire. "Everything," she breathed, her green eyes dark with need as she looked between them. "I want everything you both have to give."

Jake's fingers continued their torturous exploration, circling her center with expert precision. "Be specific, sweetheart," he urged, his trademark smirk playing across his lips as he watched her reaction. "We're pilots. We need clear instructions."

Bradley's hand joined Jake's, his touch more deliberate, more controlled. The contrast between their styles—Jake's intuitive intensity versus Bradley's methodical precision—was driving her wild.

"I want your mouth," she gasped, locking eyes with Bradley. His pupils dilated at her command. “And I want you in mine.”

Bradley's eyes darkened at Nichole's command. Without hesitation, he moved down her body, trailing hot kisses along her stomach as he positioned himself between her thighs. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as his mouth found her center.

Nichole gasped at the first touch of his tongue, her back arching off the bed. Jake watched with heated interest, his hand stroking her hair as Bradley worked her with his mouth.

"That's it, sweetheart," Jake murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Let us hear how good it feels."

As if on cue, Nichole let out a low moan, her fingers tangling in Bradley's hair. Jake took the opportunity to shift, positioning himself so that his hardness was level with her face.

"My turn," he said with a smirk, his hand cupping her cheek.

Nichole turned her head, her lips parting to welcome Jake as Bradley's tongue continued its relentless assault on her senses. She took Jake into her mouth, moaning around him as Bradley hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"Fuck," Jake hissed, his hand tightening in her hair. "Your mouth is even better than I imagined."

The dual sensations were overwhelming—Bradley's methodical, precise attention between her thighs and Jake's controlled thrusts between her lips. Nichole felt herself spiraling toward the edge, her body tensing as pleasure built within her.

Bradley sensed her approaching climax, his pace increasing as his hands gripped her thighs more firmly. Jake watched her face intently, his own pleasure evident in the tightening of his jaw and the quickening of his breath.

"That's it," Jake encouraged, his voice strained. "Let go for us Nick.”

Nichole's body trembled as the wave of pleasure crested. She cried out around Jake, her back arching off the bed as Bradley's relentless attention pushed her over the edge. Waves of ecstasy coursed through her, intensified by the dual sensations of Bradley's mouth and Jake's hardness between her lips.

Jake groaned, pulling back slightly as he watched her come undone. "Fuck, that's hot," he muttered, his hand gentle in her hair as she rode out her orgasm.

Bradley didn't let up, his tongue working her through the aftershocks until Nichole tugged at his hair, overwhelmed by the intensity. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire, lips glistening.

"God, you're beautiful when you come," Bradley said, his voice rough as he moved up her body.

Nichole pulled him down for a deep kiss, tasting herself on his lips as Jake watched with hooded eyes. The intensity between them shifted, the rivalry between the pilots temporarily forgotten as they focused entirely on her pleasure.

When she broke the kiss with Bradley, Jake immediately claimed her mouth, his tongue teasing hers as Bradley's hands continued to explore her body. She moaned into Jake's mouth as Bradley's fingers found her center again, still sensitive from her orgasm.

"You ready for more?" Bradley murmured against her neck, his voice carrying that commanding edge that made her shiver.

"God, yes," Nichole breathed, her body already responding to their touches. "I want you both."

Jake pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting Bradley's over her body. Something unspoken passed between them—a silent negotiation born of their competitive history.

"How do you want us?" Jake asked, his voice husky.

“At the same time.”

The words hung in the air between them, electric and charged with possibility. Jake's breath caught audibly while Bradley's eyes darkened to almost black.

"You sure about that?" Bradley asked, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that made heat pool in her belly.

Nichole's eyes glittered with challenge as she looked between them. "What's the matter, flyboys? Too advanced a maneuver for you?"

Jake recovered first, his trademark cocky grin sliding back into place. "Sweetheart, there's no maneuver I can't handle." His hand trailed down her stomach, fingers dipping between her thighs to find her still wet and ready. "The question is, can you?"

Bradley watched Jake's fingers work their magic, making Nichole arch and gasp. Rather than competing, he seemed to be studying, learning her responses. When he finally spoke, his voice was pure velvet command.

"On your hands and knees, Nick."

The authoritative tone sent shivers down her spine. Nichole complied eagerly, positioning herself in the center of the bed. Jake moved behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he lined himself up. Bradley knelt in front of her, one hand cupping her cheek as the other guided himself to her lips.

"Ready?" Jake asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Nichole nodded, her eyes locked on Bradley's as she opened her mouth to take him in. Jake pushed into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to the fullness. She moaned around Bradley, the vibrations making him groan in response. Jake's grip on her hips tightened as he began to move, setting a pace that was slow and deliberate at first, allowing her to adjust to the sensation.

"God, you feel amazing," Jake breathed, his usual cockiness replaced by genuine awe. His thumbs traced circles on her lower back as he gradually increased his tempo.

Bradley's hand tangled in her dark hair, guiding her movements as she took him deeper. His usual composure was cracking, replaced by raw desire as he watched her lips stretch around him.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice strained. "Just like that, Nick."

The room filled with the sounds of their pleasure—Jake's low groans, Bradley's controlled breathing, and Nichole's muffled moans. The competitive energy between the two pilots had transformed into something more collaborative, both men working in tandem to drive Nichole wild. Jake's thrusts grew more powerful, his fingers digging into her hips as he found the perfect angle. Bradley's hand remained gentle in her hair, guiding but never forcing as he matched his movements to hers.

Nichole was overwhelmed by the dual sensations, her body caught between them in the most delicious way. Each thrust from Jake pushed her forward onto Bradley, creating a rhythm that had her teetering on the edge of another climax.

"So good," Jake murmured, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. "You're taking us both so well, sweetheart."

Bradley's composure was slipping, his breathing growing ragged as Nichole took him deeper. "Look at me," he commanded softly.

She raised her eyes to meet Bradley's intense gaze, the intimacy of the moment striking her even in the midst of their passionate encounter. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else there too - a tenderness that made her heart skip.

"You're incredible," Bradley murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek.

Jake's pace increased, driving Nichole closer to the edge. She moaned around Bradley, the vibrations making him groan in response. The tension was building, a coiling heat in her core that threatened to overwhelm her. Jake shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and suddenly stars exploded behind her eyes.

"That's it," Jake encouraged, his voice strained.

Bradley's hand tightened in her hair, not painfully, but enough to ground her as the sensations threatened to sweep her away. "We've got you," he assured her, his voice rough with desire.

"I think she's close," Jake said

"I can feel it," Bradley replied, his voice strained as Nichole's mouth worked him with increasing desperation. Her body trembled between them, caught in the perfect storm of sensation.

Jake's rhythm faltered slightly as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against Nichole's back. "Come for us, sweetheart," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear as one hand slid around to find her center. "Let us feel you fall apart."

The added stimulation was too much. Nichole's body tensed, waves of pleasure crashing through her as she came hard around Jake. She moaned around Bradley, the vibrations pulling a deep groan from him as his control slipped further.

"Fuck," Jake hissed, his pace becoming erratic as Nichole's body pulsed around him. "So fucking good."

Bradley gently pulled back, allowing Nichole to catch her breath as she rode out the intense waves of her orgasm. Jake's movements slowed, his hands caressing her back as she trembled between them.

"You okay?" Bradley asked softly, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.

Nichole nodded, her eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure. "More than okay," she managed, her voice husky.

Jake carefully eased out of her, eliciting a small whimper at the loss. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. "You're incredible," he murmured, his usual cockiness replaced by genuine awe.

Bradley helped Nichole shift onto her back, his hands gentle as he arranged her comfortably on the bed. Jake stretched out beside her, propping himself up on one elbow to watch her face.

"Give me a minute," Nichole said.

Nichole took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath between the two pilots. Their heated gazes raked over her body, neither man fully satiated despite the intensity of what they'd just shared.

"A minute is all you get," Jake murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across her stomach. His trademark cockiness had softened into something more intimate, though the hunger in his eyes remained unmistakable.

Bradley stretched out on her other side, his usual controlled demeanor returning as he watched her with those intense hazel eyes. "No rush," he countered, shooting Jake a pointed look over her body. "We've got all night."

Nichole laughed softly, the sound husky from exertion. "Look at you two, still competing even now." She turned her head to press a kiss to Bradley's jaw, then did the same to Jake. "For the record, you're both winners in my book."

Jake's trademark smirk returned, though it was softened by a genuine warmth in his eyes. "High praise coming from you, sweetheart." His hand continued its lazy exploration of her body, tracing the curve of her hip.

Bradley's lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes never leaving her face. "I think we can agree on that," he murmured, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

The tension in the room had shifted, the frantic energy of their earlier encounter giving way to something slower, more deliberate. Nichole could feel the heat building again, she stirred under their touch, her body responding despite the lingering sensitivity from her earlier climaxes. Her minute was up, and both men seemed to realize it simultaneously. Bradley's hand drifted lower, tracing the curve of her breast with intentional slowness, while Jake's fingers skimmed along her inner thigh.

"My turn," Bradley murmured, his voice carrying that quiet authority that made her shiver.

“You know when I said I wanted both of you at the same time I was thinking more along the lines of double penetration. But this is good too.”

Jake's eyes darkened at her bold words, his breath catching audibly. Bradley went completely still beside her,

His typical calm demeanor briefly broke as he absorbed her suggestion.

"Jesus, Nick," Jake finally managed, his voice rough with desire. "You don't hold back, do you?"

A slow, wicked smile spread across Nichole's face as she propped herself up on her elbows, looking between the two pilots. "Life's too short for holding back," she purred. "Besides, I thought you flyboys were up for any challenge."

Bradley's expression shifted, that controlled exterior giving way to something primal as his eyes met Jake's over her body. Another silent communication passed between them—rivalry temporarily set aside in favor of mutual appreciation for the woman between them.

"Well I think we're up for the challenge don't you Hangman?" Bradley asked, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that sent heat pooling in her core.

Jake's eyes flashed with a mixture of challenge and desire. "Oh, I'm definitely up for it, Rooster," he said, the familiar competitive edge creeping back into his voice. His hand slid boldly up Nichole's thigh. "Question is, how do you want us, sweetheart?"

Nichole's breath quickened as she considered the possibilities. The tequila still buzzed pleasantly through her system, lowering her inhibitions just enough to make her bold suggestion seem like the most natural thing in the world.

"I want you here," she said, reaching for Jake and guiding his hand between her legs. "And Bradley..." She turned her heated gaze to him. "I want you here." Her free hand bring Rooster's to lay next to Jake's.

Jake's eyes darkened at her touch, his breath catching as understanding dawned. "Fuck," he muttered, the word more reverent than crude. Bradley's composure slipped further, his pupils dilating until only a thin ring of hazel remained.

"You sure about this?" Bradley asked, his voice rough with desire but still carrying that underlying concern that seemed intrinsic to his nature.

Nichole nodded, her green eyes gleaming with certainty. "Very sure," she replied, her voice husky. "I've thought about it before... just never found the right partners." Her gaze flickered between them. "Until now."

Jake recovered his trademark cockiness, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Well, we are the best pilots in the Navy. Only makes sense we'd excel at this too."

Bradley rolled his eyes at Jake's boast, but couldn't suppress a small smile.

"Alright, flyboys," Nichole purred, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Show me what you've got."

Jake and Bradley exchanged a loaded glance, years of rivalry and unspoken communication allowing them to wordlessly coordinate. Jake moved first, positioning himself behind Nichole as she knelt on the bed. His hands gripped her hips, steadying her as Bradley knelt in front of her.

Bradley cupped her face, his thumb tracing her lower lip. "We'll go slow," he promised, his voice low and intense. "Tell us if it's too much."

Nichole nodded, her breath quickening with anticipation. She felt Jake's hardness pressing against her from behind, while Bradley's hands guided her hips forward. The initial stretch as they both entered her simultaneously was intense, bordering on overwhelming. She gasped, her fingers digging into Bradley's shoulder.

"Breathe, sweetheart," Jake murmured against her neck, his usual cockiness replaced by genuine concern. "We've got you."

Nichole took a shaky breath, focusing on relaxing her muscles as they slowly filled her. The initial discomfort gave way to a delicious fullness that had her moaning softly.

"Is this okay?" Bradley asked, his eyes searching her face intently.

She nodded, unable to form words as she adjusted to the new sensations. Jake's hands caressed her sides soothingly while Bradley pressed soft kisses along her collarbone.

"God, you feel amazing," Jake breathed, his voice strained.

Nichole felt overwhelmed in the best possible way, caught between the two pilots as they filled her completely. The initial discomfort had faded, replaced by an intense pleasure that had her gasping for breath.

"Move," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

Jake and Bradley exchanged another look over her shoulder, before they both nodded. They started slow, Jake pulling back slightly as Bradley pushed forward, creating a rhythm that had Nichole seeing stars again.

"Fuck," she moaned, her head falling back against Jake's shoulder.

Bradley's hand cupped her cheek, guiding her gaze back to his. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was also an intensity there that made her breath catch. "Stay with us," he murmured, his voice rough.

Jake's lips found her neck, trailing hot kisses along her sensitive skin as his pace increased. The sensation of both men moving inside her was unlike anything Nichole had ever experienced—a delicious fullness that bordered on overwhelming. Bradley's eyes never left hers, practically melting her with her with his gaze.

"You're taking us so well," Bradley murmured, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining his composure. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as Jake's fingers dug into her waist from behind.

"So fucking good," Jake groaned against her neck, his usual cockiness replaced by raw need. His teeth grazed her shoulder, sending shivers cascading down her spine.

Nichole felt suspended between them, caught in a perfect storm of sensation. Every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, building toward something that promised to be earth-shattering. She moaned, her body trembling as they found a perfect rhythm together.

"God, I'm close," she gasped, her fingers digging into Bradley's shoulders while Jake's grip tightened on her hips.

"Let go for us, sweetheart," Jake murmured, his voice rough against her ear. His movements became more urgent, more demanding as he felt her body tensing against his.

Bradley's hand slid between them, his fingers finding her center with unerring precision. "Come for us, Nick," he commanded, his usually controlled voice breaking with desire.

The added stimulation was too much. Nichole violently cried out, her body shattered between them, waves of pleasure crashing through her with an intensity that left her gasping for breath. Her vision blurred, every nerve ending alight as the most powerful orgasm of her life tore through her. She cried out, the sound raw and primal as Jake and Bradley continued their relentless pace.

"Fuck," Jake groaned, his rhythm faltering as Nichole's body pulsed around him. "I can't—"

Bradley wasn't far behind, his composure finally breaking completely as Nichole's climax triggered his own. His fingers dug into her hips, his usually controlled expression giving way to raw pleasure.

Jake followed a moment later, his body tensing against Nichole's back as he found his release. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her steady as they all rode out the waves of pleasure together.

For several moments, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing as they remained entangled, coming down from the intensity of their shared climax. Nichole felt boneless between them, supported only by Jake's arms around her waist and Bradley's steady grip on her hips.

"Holy shit," Jake finally managed, his voice muffled against Nichole's shoulder.

Bradley let out a shaky laugh, resting his forehead against Nichole's. "That's one way to put it," he agreed.

Nichole hummed in agreement, too blissed out to form coherent words. She felt Jake carefully ease out of her, eliciting a small whimper at the loss. Bradley followed suit, his movements gentle as he helped her lie back on the bed.

"You okay?" Bradley asked softly, brushing a lock of sweat-filled hair aside.

“…you seem to ask that a lot.” she giggled.

Jake slid to her side, his usual cocky demeanor softened by the aftermath of their shared ecstasy. "Can you blame him? That was..." He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words—a rarity for Hangman.

"Intense?" Nichole supplied, her voice deliciously raspy. She stretched languidly

between them like a satisfied cat. The pleasant ache in her muscles was a delicious reminder of what transpired tonight.

She was surprised that she enjoyed herself as much as she did. It caused a single thought to cross her mind and that was, that she could get use to this.

Bradley chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest where she rested against him. "That's putting it mildly." His fingers traced lazy patterns along her shoulder, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast to the commanding presence he'd embodied moments ago.

"I've gotta say," Jake murmured, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her, "when you walked into The Hard Deck tonight, this is not how I expected the evening to end."

Nichole laughed softly, the sound vibrating through her chest. "What, two rival pilots in my bed wasn't on your bingo card for tonight?"

Bradley's lips quirked into a small smile. "Definitely not on mine."

"Speaking of rivals," Jake said, his eyes meeting Bradley's over Nichole's body, "we might need to revisit our definition of competition."

"Truce?" Bradley suggested, his expression uncharacteristically open.

"At least in this arena," Jake agreed with his trademark smirk, though there was genuine warmth behind it.

Nichole watched the exchange with interest, fascinated by the shift in their dynamic. "So you two can play nice when properly motivated."

"Don't get used to it," Jake quipped, though his usual cockiness was tempered by a newfound warmth. "We've still got plenty to compete over in the air."

Bradley nodded in agreement, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns on Nichole's skin. "Though I have to admit, this kind of... collaboration has its merits."

Nichole hummed contentedly, luxuriating in the afterglow and the feeling of being sandwiched between two incredibly attractive pilots. "Well, boys," she purred, "if you ever feel like engaging in some more 'collaborative exercises,' you know where to find me."

Jake's eyes lit up with interest, while Bradley's expression became thoughtful.

"Careful what you wish for, sweetheart," Jake murmured, his hand sliding possessively over her hip. "We might just take you up on that offer."

She involuntarily yawned. “I have a spacious shower…maybe we can take our exercises there in the morning.”

Jake's eyes glinted with a mixture of exhaustion and renewed interest. "Morning showers, huh? I like how you think, Nick."

Bradley's arm tightened around her waist, his chest warm and solid against her back. "Get some rest first," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. "We've got plenty of time."

Nichole smiled drowsily, her body pleasantly sore in all the right places. The tequila buzz had faded to a gentle warmth that, combined with post-orgasmic bliss, was quickly lulling her toward sleep. "Is that an order, Rooster?" she teased, her eyes already drifting closed.

"Consider it a strong recommendation," Bradley replied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Jake reached over to pull the sheets across their entwined bodies.

“Because I was ready to say yes Sir and salute you. Nick giggled again.

Jake chuckled, his body vibrating against hers in a deliciously intimate way. "Maybe save the 'yes sir' for round two," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise against her ear. "I've got a feeling it'll come in handy."

Bradley's expression darkened with renewed interest, despite his obvious exhaustion. "I'm starting to think we've created a monster," he said, though the way his hand tightened on her hip suggested he didn't find this problematic at all.

"Please," Nichole scoffed, fighting another yawn. "The monster was already there. You two just happened to find the perfect key to unlock the cage."

Jake's trademark smirk returned as he settled more comfortably against her. "Lucky us."

“Lucky me.” Nichole murmured, her voice growing heavy with approaching sleep. She nestled deeper between them, savoring the warmth of their bodies on either side of her. Bradley's steady breathing behind her and Jake's arm draped possessively across her waist created a cocoon of satisfaction and security.

Bradley's lips brushed against the nape of her neck, the gesture surprisingly tender. "Sleep, Nick," he whispered, his commanding tone softened to something almost affectionate.

As she drifted toward unconsciousness, Nichole couldn't help but smile. What had started as a simple night out at her father's girlfriend's bar had evolved into something she'd never thought would happen.

She reached for Jake's hand that was around her and pulled it tighter to her stomach, loving the feeling of being held by not just one man but two men.

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