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heartforbangtan · 1 day ago

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The only exception | 4

Series Summary: What are the consequences of having your first kiss with your best friend?

Pairing: Park Jimin X Female Reader

Genre: Dancer AU, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Mutual Pining

Chapter Count: 4 /? (ongoing)

Word count: 7,5k+

Content Warnings: explicit mature content

A/N: Hiii, I'm back agaaain. This chapter is a bit spicy 😋😋 just saying 👀

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Our secret moments in a crowded room They got no idea about me and you Dress – Taylor Swift

Busan

You don't know when it started, but suddenly Jimin's favorite hobby was flirting with you without anyone seeing. More and more he said things that drove you crazy. And you never knew if he was telling the truth or just teasing you.

You walked down the school hallway during your break, looking for Jimin who was in a different room in this class.

You hear a voice calling you and look back. A girl you've only seen a few times at school approaches you with red cheeks. You can't remember her name.

“Hey...“ she says with a little smile.” You're Jimin's friend, right?’

Oh, you knew what this was. She was interested in him. Here we go again.

It was a question she knew the answer to, after all, everyone at school knew that you two were friends.

“Uh, yes, I am.”

“So... can you please give him this note?“ She hands you a small piece of paper. ”It has my name and number written on it.’

“Okay…” you agree a little reluctantly, but she didn't even notice because she was too focused looking behind you.

You really didn't understand that. If she wanted to talk to him so badly, why didn't she just give him the note herself? It would give off more of an air of trust than sending others to do her job. You were too tired of that.

When you turn around, you find Jimin across the hall laughing with some friends. Seriously, she's so silly about this.

You take a deep breath and give her a toothless smile. When you turn back to find Jimin, he's already looking at you, smiling. You walk towards him and Jimin separates from his friends and heads further to the right side of the hallway to meet you.

She watches as you go talk to Jimin.

“Hey” you say smiling as you stop in front of him.

“Hi.” Jimin smiles seductively and you know that smile is what makes girls fall in love.

But you won't fall.

“So…” his gaze goes to your hand holding the note.

“You already know what it is." You roll your eyes and he laughs.

“Give it to me.” He stretches out his hand and you hand him the note. Jimin opens it and takes a look, without taking the shit-eating smile off his face.

Jimin leans close to your ear to speak while looking at the girl.

“I only have eyes for you, you know that. “ Jimin chuckles and you are left speechless.

What?!

He gave the girl a wink, but you couldn't see it.

Jimin puts the paper in his pocket and walks away laughing. You blink a few times and then compose yourself. The girl was almost jumping up and down where you left her waiting.

Within seconds you had to process what happened and come up with an excuse for her, because she was already coming towards you.

“So? What did he say?” she asked excitedly, clasping her hands together.

“It’s...He said he'll send a message.”

You felt bad, but what could you do?

“Oh my god, thank you so much“ she hugs you happily and you don't have time to hug her back before she leaves to meet her friends.

The girl, whose name you didn't even care about, leaves happily to meet her friends and tell them what happened. But you remain almost paralyzed in place, still thinking about Jimin's words.

Seriously, who can handle that? There's no way he could have shaken your foundations with just those words. Even though you reminded yourself every day that you wouldn't fall for his charms. Here you are now, blushing like a 15-year-old (which wasn't that long ago). But that doesn't matter.

When the break is over, you're still thinking about the same thing. And when you walk back into the classroom and see Jimin acting like nothing happened, you almost think you've imagined things.

You can't believe the nerve he has. How could he say that to you and then act like nothing happened?

You sit at a table in front of him, but you don't give him any importance. You take your things out of your bag and start organizing them on the table so you have something to occupy yourself with.

Soon the grammar teacher enters the room, arranging his own desk before starting the class.

You sigh deeply. The last thing you wanted was to have grammar class. But finals are approaching and you can't afford to miss them.

While you're distracted looking through your notebook for the last notes from your grammar class, Jimin leans over his desk behind you. His chin stops just above your shoulder, making you jump in your seat and he pulls away.

“Easy, baby.“ Jimin says softly just for you to hear.

You close your eyes tightly, anger taking over your body.

It's obvious he would make fun of you. And the fact that you reacted exactly the way he wanted makes you even angrier. You wish you had more self-control.

“Don't call me that.” you say through your teeth quietly, only for him to hear too.

Everyone is still talking in the classroom, so almost no one pays attention to your little interaction with Jimin.

“Why not?“ he pauses dramatically. ”Baby?"

You turn around so you can look him in the eye and find Jimin looking a little seductive for a thursday morning grammar class.

Jimin subtly runs his tongue across his mouth and your eyes betray you when they fly straight to his mouth. You hate yourself for this once again. Once again you fell into his game. And Jimin is already smiling when he realizes that for a second you looked at his lips.

“You piece of sh…”

“Well, everyone, let's start today's class. Please be quiet.”

You let out a snort and turn around, not before seeing Jimin staring at your mouth and then quickly at your eyes.

He is unbelievable!

The rest of the class passed by in a torturous manner. You could barely pay attention to the new concepts the teacher was talking about because you were too aware of Jimin's presence behind you.

“Or Jimin really likes you or he's gay.” Yuna says with the calmest face you've ever seen, as if she hadn't just made you almost choke on her words.

“What did you say?”

You have to stop your snack to question her. You heard very well what she said, but you can't believe it.

“That's right, you heard it. Don't pretend you don't see it either.“ She raises an eyebrow, showing that she's not joking about the subject.

You shift uncomfortably on the grass of the schoolyard where you are sitting during break.

“I don't think he's gay…” your mind flies to all the moments you had together and a shiver runs down your legs.

“So he likes you.” she doesn't hesitate to say.

Yuna speaks as if she were saying that the weather is sunny today.

“I don't think that's it either. “ your heart was beating fast in your chest.

“Really? So how do you explain the way he looks at you and the care he only has for you?”

Yuna crosses her arms in front of her body.

“It's just... normal. We're like brothers, we've known each other since childhood.” you start to sweat nervously at your friend's question.

You know she doesn't mean any harm. But you weren't prepared to hear today that Jimin seems to have feelings for you.

Exactly this week. After all the wills you had to go through.

Today really wasn't your day.

“My brother doesn't treat me like that. He's always hitting me and calling me a pig for leaving my towel in the bathroom.” She laughs and you force one too.

“It's just the way he is.”

And you're not lying when you say that. Jimin has a gentle way of being that no one you know has. He's just him.

And you're sure he doesn't treat you in any special way. Jimin is kind to everyone and that's easily noticeable. There's no reason to second-guess yourself because of it.

“Oh stop, tell me you don't have a little crush on him” she pushes your shoulder and waggles her eyebrows.

You stay silent for a few seconds, but she doesn't give you time to question yourself.

“Come on!” she almost whines, while continuing to push you with her shoulder.

“Think about his thick lips and... Oh! His hot ass, jesus!”

“Stop it!”

You two are laughing so hard.

“I don't know. Maybe?” you laugh shyly and she widens her eyes.

As soon as the words leave your mouth you regret them.

This was sure to spark gossip. And you really didn't want people to start bothering you about it. Not after you and Jimin had spent so long denying that you liked each other.

“See? I knew there was something there. Hoseok owes me 10 dollars for this.” she celebrates without even paying attention to your terrified face.

Wait. Hoseok?

“Hoseok owes you? What the hell is this?” your face contorts in confusion.

“Oh, honey, we all bet you two have a crush on each other. I just didn't think it would be that easy to get it out of you. “ She laughs and you get a little irritated.

“You mean you don't care about my feelings?” your tone changes and her playful expression falls.

This is so out of line. You didn't expect your friends to make bets involving the two of you like this.

“Y/n, it's not that. Please don't think about it this way. We all want you to be together, trust me.” she holds your hand and has a genuine expression on her face.

You feel like she's starting to get a little desperate in the way she talks.

“You're already assuming he has some kind of interest in me.”

You play dumb to her, even though you know that Jimin is interested in you. But you think that maybe it's not like that. You think that what you two do is just a fun pastime and that it doesn't mean anything deeper than that.

And you know that for you, things are becoming problematic. But maybe for Jimin, it's just fun to have a girl available for him to kiss. And being you, someone he knows, makes everything easier.

And deep down, really deep down, you'd like to hear from an outsider that Jimin seems to like you. Somehow it comforts your heart and your ego, even if you have to ask him directly to be sure. But obviously you're not going to do that.

“Oh, come on. Everyone can see that he has a huge crush on you.”

Your face heats up once more at her words.

“I don't think so.”

“Seriously? Everyone has already noticed you two being clingy with each other. Oh chimchim this, mimi that“ she does a terrible imitation of your voice and you push her aside.

‘Stop it. I'm not like that.” you start laughing, because it's ridiculous.

And it's true.

“Of course it is. Ugh, I can't stand you two, seriously. I wish I had someone like that for myself.”

She rolls her eyes and you both start laughing.

It had been a while since you had shared something so intimate with someone other than Jimin.

Sometimes it was nice to have a girl talk.

“But seriously, is there nothing going on between you two?’ she nibbles on the cookies you are eating.

You stop and think.

It had really been a long time since you had any girl talk. What harm would it do to have some of that now?

You needed that escape.

“Okay, if I tell you, will you promise me two things? “ you say, uncertain, but already implying that you have a secret.

She widens her eyes and finishes chewing the cookie.

“Sure, I promise you even three." You laugh at her face. ”Seriously, no bets now.”

You straighten up on the grass you're sitting on.

“First you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Of course.”

“Second, please don't freak out too much about it. It's really no big deal.”

You know it's a big deal.

“Okay…” she analyzes you, waiting for you to continue.

“Seriously, don't tell anyone.”

“Just say it already”

“So... we've already, um, kissed “ you fiddle with your fingers looking down, because you're dying of embarrassment.

Her jaw drops and she even drops the cookie she was holding.

“I knew it! I knew soo much! My God.”

You glared at her.

“Alright, alright, no freaking out.”

She tries to control herself.

“When did it happen? Like, how? Oh my god, there are so many questions.”

She looks like a crazy person looking at you.

“Okay, calm down. It's not a big deal, it's just kisses.”

“Kisses? In plural?”

Shit.

You cover your face with your hands, blushing. You're starting to think you've said too much.

“You're so dirty! I can't believe you gave kisses to Park Jimin! “ she slaps you on the arm

“It's no big deal, I swear.”

“Okay, but how did this happen? Tell me the details, for God’s sake.”

She shakes you by the arm.

“I don't know. It just happened. I won't tell you too many details…”

“Urgh, okay. But... when was the last time you guys kissed?’

You pause, wondering if you should tell her. She looks at you with a dramatic look, as if to say, “just spill it.”

“Y-yesterday”

Her jaw dropped for the tenth time today. You blushed again.

“Yesterday?! That's insane.”

“Keep your voice down, everyone will hear you.”

You look around suspiciously.

“You're so in love!”

“That's not it!”

“Oh, it is! My God, you guys are so stupid.”

You start to pack your things because the break is almost over. But really you just wanted an excuse to get out of this subject. You're starting to get nervous.

“I shouldn't have told you that.”

“Hey!”

She takes you by the shoulders and makes you face her.

“It's alright, okay?” she looks deep into his eyes, seeing the desperation.” It's okay to like someone, even if it's your best friend.”

You try to let go of her because your heart starts to tighten and you don't want to start crying in the middle of the courtyard.

“He likes you too.”

She says in a last attempt to make you listen.

“This won't lead to anything.”

“Have you told him how you feel?”

She's getting up too and you kind of turn your back, grabbing your backpack.

“There's nothing to say.”

“Y/n…”

“Enough, okay? I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

She looks a little sad, but she understands your request.

“Okay. Just know that I will always support you.”

Your heart softens a little, despite the erratic beats it's making.

“Thank you, really.”

“And I won’t tell Hoseok that I won the bet.”

You slap her arm and she starts laughing.

And you walk together to your next class, with time running out and arriving 5 minutes late.

After all the talk with Yuna, you suddenly became very aware of Jimin's presence and all his actions towards you.

And deep down you wish he liked you too.

Jimin is researching dance schools on the computer in his room. The research has been long and he hasn't been happy with some of the comments. Jimin watched some videos explaining how the selection process works for most schools, and some of the comments on the videos complained about the strict rules of these places.

A random comment said:

Kot878: These places are tough on training. And they don't even let you date!

That couldn't be true, right? About the training maybe, but they couldn't forbid them from dating, right?

Jimim got nervous. He knew he wasn't dating anyone, but he couldn't help but fantasize about it. What if you liked him too? Maybe you could date, right?

Jimin was paralyzed looking at that comment, when he heard the sound of footsteps and the door to his room was quickly opened.

“Boo”

Jimin gets scared by you and quickly closes the browser window.

"Shit! Knock before entering.”

“What are you doing? Watching porn?” you giggle and move closer to him.

Jimin was already nervous because you almost caught him looking at that information, after what you said he got even more nervous.

“O-of course not. Are you idiot?”

“Then why did you close the browser window?”

You raise an eyebrow at him and move closer to the computer.

“I was just looking at some dance schools.”

And suddenly you forgot that you were questioning him. Your face lit up with his words and you became excited.

“Really? And how is it going?”

You sit on his bed, waiting for him to answer.

“I haven’t found any nearby yet.”

Jimin wasn’t lying. But that random information he read in a comment left a huge doubt in his head. He would have to look better after you left.

“Hm, but you can move to another city if you get in”

But what about you? Would you stay apart?

“But...”

“I could go with you.”

“What!? No.” Jimin says quickly. He didn’t want to change cities.

“Don’t you want me to come with you?” you pout looking at him.

“No, it’s not that. I don’t want to have to move to another city.” Jimin exhales. This whole situation of looking for dance schools has been stressing him out.

“Well, but maybe that’s the only option”

You’re probably right.

“I’ll take a better look later.”

You nod, swinging your feet over the edge of his bed.

“So, what are you doing here?”

You suddenly remember why you came here.

“I need you to teach me how to study.”

“But your grades are good, right? There’s no need for me to teach you.”

“No! I need to do even better this time. My parents will give me the album of the band I like if I do well.”

He gets up from his chair and walks over to you on the bed, coming closer and making you lean back on your arms.

“You enter a boy's room very freely.”

You swallow. He looks so serious. You feel a little nervous at the sudden change in mood.

“It's just you.”

“And?”

“I-I trust you.”

Jimin remains in the same position, too close to you and analyzing you. He thinks that you still don't see him as a man, even though you've kissed several times.

“What is that?”

You look so pretty like this, with a slightly flushed and confused face. Jimin can only think that he wants to kiss you everywhere. But he doesn't want to pressure you and you end up thinking that he's going too far. What if you stop talking to him? He wouldn't be able to stand that.

Then he rethinks and walks away from you.

“Just... Don't go into boys' rooms like that.”

Jimin sits next to you on the bed, not looking at your face. You get more nervous. What did he mean by that?

“Uhh, okay?”

You actually thought he was going to kiss you again for a few seconds. And honestly, you really wanted him to.

You couldn't muster up enough courage to say that you came here not only because you wanted him to teach you how to study better, but because you wanted to be with him. And maybe... you could get some kisses from him.

“What subjects do you need help with?”

“We can start with math.”

You're trying to memorize the stages of cell division in the library, but you can't figure out how to make it happen logically. You keep forgetting the order all the time and it's already stressing you out.

Pro meta ana tel... That's it! You got it-

“So, have you guys done it yet?” Yuna whispers, sitting next to you.

You write down the logical sentence in your notebook and are happy with your idea. You barely paid attention to what Yuna said, focusing your attention on the logic you just created.

“Yeah, we already did the work—”

“You guys had sex!?”

“What? Oh my god, Yuna, I was talking about the history work”

Your voice gets a little loud from the shock you got from Yuna's words. Some of your classmates give you two ugly looks. Your face is already hot and Yuna's eyes are wide open as she stares at you.

“My God, I say. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Stop thinking nonsense and study!” you look away from her and point to the notebooks, organizing your study sheets that don’t need to be organized.

“I’m tired of studying. And your life is cooler than mine, so I want to know more.”

She rests her face in her hands and pouts. You really can’t stand it.

“Stop thinking about it.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re disgusting, you know that?”

“Why? It’s normal to do these things.”

Once again, the subject is turning to things you really don’t want to talk about right now, and certainly not in the middle of the library. You feel like you two are going to be thrown out of the library any minute.

You take a deep breath and try to speak as quietly as possible, and in a way that Yuna will end the damn subject.

“We’re not going to do…that.”

“Why not?”

She looks like a child like that.

“Let's focus on studying, hm?”

She snorts.

“Give me some love advice.”

“Stop changing the subject.”

You grab a sheet of paper with notes and hand it to her.

“Seriously.” She takes the paper and looks at it without interest. “Maybe I like Hoseok.”

“Hobi? Oh my God, I knew this was weird.”

Now it’s your turn to disconnect from your studies. She never told you that.

“And we kissed.”

What? What the hell?

Yuna says it like it's no big deal, still analyzing the sheet you handed her without interest. Now you're totally into the subject, you don't want to study anymore.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You don’t tell me anything about your life.”

“That’s a lie. I told you things I’ve never told anyone.”

“Hey, you two. Be quiet.” The librarian snaps at you and you flinch, nodding.

Yuna comes closer and tries to speak more quietly.

“Well, I’ll only tell you if you tell me what’s going on between you two.”

Yuna shrugs, as if she’s not blackmailing you for information. You can’t believe her nerve. You have nothing interesting to say about this.

“There really isn’t anything going on between us.”

She looks at you with a “seriously?” face and you sigh for the infinite time.

“We just like to kiss each other, that’s it. Now tell me about Hobi.”

She gives up and then starts talking.

“So, we kissed the other day and...”

“You two. I’m going to ask you to find another place to study.”

And you feel so embarrassed about being kicked out of the library that you end the subject there. You really needed to memorize the content for the test.

At the beginning of your 18th birthday, things start to get a little out of control.

“We should stop doing this... “ you say, but your voice isn't confident at all. Not when he's kissing your neck like that.

“This what?”

And on top of that, Jimin plays dumb. He wants to see you admit what you're doing.

He continues to place delicate kisses along your neck and up to your ear. Your heart is already beating hard inside your chest with all the excitement he is causing you.

“This!”

You grab him by the shoulders and pull him away. You were sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard with your notebooks spread out on the mattress. His gaze, his full lips, everything is too tempting for you and your eyes waver. He knows you want to continue.

“Why should we?” he asks, almost pouting.

His voice destroys you. You never imagined you would see him so full of lust. He does it on purpose because he knows how much it affects you.

“We're not focusing on our studies.“ and his eyes couldn't stop looking at his lips.

That wasn't exactly why you thought you should stop this, but it was still true.

It was your senior year of high school. You decided to come home with the excuse that you were going to study for the biology test that would be first thing in the morning tomorrow. And here you were, making out in your room instead of studying.

This whole situation was taking on proportions you hadn't imagined. You both didn't know exactly how it started, but before you knew it, you were already kissing. Neither of you wanted to think too much about it and how far it could go. You were afraid to think about the barriers you could cross if the emotion took over too much.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, you were always interrupted when things were getting too heated. And internally you thanked God, because the fear of making that decision was too much..

You two were almost always getting caught and it became a routine.

“I think we're studying biology very well.” he said in a naughty tone.

And there's that mischievous little smile of his that takes you apart. His hands are already on your waist without you realizing it, squeezing lightly and bringing you closer to him, inviting you to sit on his lap, but not doing so yet.

“Okay, 5 more minutes. But we need to focus, seriously!”

Jimin smiles triumphantly because he knows he won. He doesn't waste any more time, knowing that you really need to focus on your studies after this. He pushes his notebooks aside in a desperate way and it makes you laugh.

Jimin's thoughts are so clouded by lust that he can only think of one thing. So he leaves reason aside.

“Sit on my lap.”

“What?” you get a little nervous with his request, not knowing how to act.

“Come”

His hands push you around the waist and you follow the movement, sitting forward on his lap. His back is against the headboard while his hands caress your legs.

You try not to think too much about the position you're in. You're afraid you won't be able to control yourself when it comes to Jimin. He has a seductive way that only grows as the years go by.

Your lips meet again and your hands caress his soft hair. Everything about him is soft: his hair, his lips, his heart. And you are so addicted that you can't even think straight.

His tongue enters your mouth and you let out a soft sigh. Jimin chuckles as he kisses you, his hands moving from your legs to your hips and then grabbing your waist. He kisses you harder and pushes you down onto his lap. A surprised moan leaves your mouth because you can feel how turned on he is just from kissing you like this.

You're already aroused, too. In fact, you're pretty sure you're already soaking wet. Your parts are screaming for some friction, any movement that will ease that growing throb.

The caresses of his delicate fingers together with his increasingly skilled tongue in your mouth makes you lose self-control and start rubbing yourself on his lap.

You move just enough for that throbbing to stop bothering you. But his kiss is addictive and his hands caress you in such a light way that it makes you lose all the self-control you should have.

His hands holding your hips encourage you to continue rubbing yourself on his lap. Jimin sighs, also affected by the way you are grinding on top of him. He feels like he could explode with lust. Your flushed face, with your lips slightly parted, letting out sighs, is certainly the most erotic image he has ever seen in his life.

The way his hard erection rubs right against your most sensitive spot makes you close your eyes tightly. Slowly letting low moans escape your lips as you still kiss awkwardly.

“Do you like this?”

Jimin kisses your cheek, collarbone, behind your ear, your neck in several parts. He seems to be adoring you and at that moment it was all you needed the most.

“Oh-yes”

You grip his shoulders as you use more strength to shift on his lap. His legs bend to bring you closer, pressing you completely against him.

You can feel the pleasure growing in the pit of your stomach, but the insecurity of finishing in front of him starts to hit you harder. Your moans start to come out without your control and Jimin can sense it. He knows you're controlling yourself, by the way your eyes are closed and your eyebrows are furrowed.

He holds the back of your neck and kisses you. His other hand is on your hip pushing you down while his hips also work to pleasure you.

When you feel him pushing his hips against your core, you know you've already lost. Within seconds of this friction, you feel your orgasm building inside your belly. When you both push together once more, you feel the explosion of orgasm. Your moans can no longer be contained by his kisses. Your walls tighten around nothing and give you a feeling of satisfaction, but emptiness at the same time.

Your hands grip Jimin's shoulders tightly as you still rub yourself against his erection.

“Ah, Jimin…”

Jimin is in heaven listening to you softly moan his name over and over again. He swears he could have cum just from that if it weren't for the underwear and sweatpants squeezing him so tightly.

When you calm down, it still takes a few seconds for you to open your eyes and finally look at him.

You can't believe you just had an orgasm in front of Jimin. Something so intimate and so personal that you just shared it with him, your best friend.

"Did you finish?” Jimin asks, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

You feel his other hand caressing your back, trying to relax you.

It takes you a long few seconds to gather the courage to say yes.

“I'm happy” Jimin kisses your cheek.

You don't get it.

“Why?”

“Because I made you feel good, right?”

You stay silent, staring at him and thinking how he can be so amazing.

At the same time your mind remembers that he is also horny and that he is probably dying because of it right now. You need to do something for him too. You want to do something for him.

“And you? How can I make you feel good?” your face automatically heats up.

“You don't have to do that” he gives a little smile. ”And we still need to finish studying” he looks around, at the mess that is the bedspread and at the study papers that fell on the floor.

“But I want to”

And you really do. But Jimin is hesitant and you can feel it. You just can't quite put your finger on why.

You don't realize it, but what Jimin has is insecurity. He's afraid of forcing you or that you're forcing yourself to do it for him. Maybe you can't even imagine him that way.

Just the idea that you might be forcing him to do this makes him lose his excitement.

When Jimin looks into your eyes again, you take him by surprise, kissing him. Both of your hands go to his face, caressing him as you kiss.

You pull away from him and let your foreheads touch.

“Show me how I can make you feel good too.”

Jimin sees sincerity in your eyes. So, he lets down his walls of insecurity and agrees to let you do it.

Something so simple and that any boy wouldn't hesitate to let a girl do. But he can't be like that. Jimin could never use someone just for his pleasure. He doesn't work that way.

“Okay…”

You sit a little further away, but still on top of his thighs. Just enough so that you can see the bulge in his pants.

Jimin guides your hand to the bulge between his legs and you touch it hesitantly. It's warm and hard and you gasp in surprise. Jimin doesn't miss a moment of your reactions.

You start to caress him over his pants, hesitant and embarrassed. You feel his eyes burning into you. Jimin analyzes your every move.

But you want more. You want to feel and see what it's like.

“Can I touch...?”

“You're touching.”

“Not like this.”

Jimin bites his lips.

You're going to drive him crazy like this.

Jimin takes your hand and puts it on the waistband of his pants. He doesn't stop to think about the situation, otherwise he would lose his courage. And deep down, you're also thinking the same thing.

You help him pull down his sweatpants and underwear, freeing his hard, hot member that rests against Jimin's belly.

You try not to look too surprised, but it's practically impossible. You swallow him with your eyes. This is the first time you've seen a dick in real life.

“What?” Jimin asks, a little embarrassed.

A thousand thoughts run through his head. You didn't like it? Was it what you expected? Maybe you think he is small?

He shifts uncomfortably on the bed and you look at him and notice his discomfort. Finally you answer.

“Nothing, it's... it's just the first time I've seen a... uh…”

“Dick?”

You close your eyes for a second at the way he talks. So dirty and different.

“Yeah…”

You don’t know how to say this, but Jimin is incredible. The shape and size, the veins covering him, the pink, leaking tip. You didn’t know you could get this turned on. Your eyes are glued to him.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, yes.” You say promptly.

Jimin feels a weight lift off his shoulders when he hears you responding so enthusiastically.

“You can touch.”

You bit your lip and reached out to touch him for the first time. You felt him in your hand, warm and hard. It was the first time you were touching him like this and also the first time you had touched anyone like this.

Your fingers closed around his cock and you tested how tight you could get. Jimin immediately closed his eyes and moaned. You glanced up at him, surprised by the sound he made.

Your heart started pounding in your chest and you felt that pulse return to your core. You could never imagine how sexy Jimin would look moaning like that and it definitely turned you on. You wanted to see more of this.

You start to move back and forth carefully, not sure if you should do it that way. You lick your lips and look at him. His eyes are glued to you, practically swallowing you.

“Here, squeeze like this.” He wraps his fingers together with yours and squeezes hard, showing you how much pressure you can apply.

Another moan escapes his lips, but this time Jimin continues to look directly at you.

“Now do it like this” he guides your hand up and down his cock, while he doesn't take his eyes off yours. ”Oh, that's it, just like that.” he moans with satisfaction when you take the rhythm by yourself.

You are fascinated by him. His moans encourage you to continue. Your hand quickly moves up and down his cock.

Jimin is lost in the vision he has of you giving him pleasure. He can't control his mind with the various dirty scenes he imagines the two of you doing.

Your eyes alternate between looking at his cock and watching his reactions. You want to lick it but you're afraid it'll be too much, so you settle for giving him pleasure with just your hand.

“I'm close…”

Jimin moans louder and you feel your parts contracting. It's so exciting to know that he's moaning like this because of you. You feel powerful and confident.

You squeeze him tighter in your hand and the noise is loud and sticky. His hand goes to your face and lifts your chin, caressing your jaw.

“You're so beautiful-oh”

You let out a soft moan because your wrist is starting to hurt, but you don't want to stop. Jimin looks like he's about to cum and you don't want to miss that scene.

Suddenly, you hear the front door creaking. You hear your mother calling your name from the living room, along with the sound of keys being dropped on the counter. Your eyes almost pop out of your head when you look at Jimin.

You quickly pull away.

Jimin stands up and pulls up his underwear along with his pants and tries to fix his hair, which is a mess.

Yours is also a mess and you try to tie it in a ponytail. As soon as you tie your hair, you pick up the notebooks that are thrown on the floor and try to fix the pages that fell.

Jimin sits at his computer desk with a notebook in his hand. He tries to adjust his erection that is painfully pressing inside his pants. He crosses his legs to try to hide it. Jimin runs his hand through his hair, smoothing it back and notices that his forehead is sweaty. He tries to wipe it off while you climb into bed and arrange your study materials.

Your mother knocks on the door at the same time and enters the room. She is surprised to see the two of you, but if she noticed anything, she didn't show it on her face.

“Ah, you're here. How dedicated. ” She says, smiling at the two of you.

“Good afternoon, ma'am.”

“Hi, mom. You're early today.” your voice comes out a little breathless and Jimin gives you a quick look, without your mother noticing.

“Oh yeah. I didn't have much work today so I ended up leaving early.” she explains and you agree. “What are you studying?”

Your mother's eyes scan your notebooks. You swallow.

“Biology”

It wasn't a lie.

But due to the events of a few minutes ago, this information suddenly seemed very funny.

Jimin does his best with his head down on his notebooks to keep from bursting out laughing. The last thing you need right now is to make a mistake in front of your mother.

“Oh, really?” your mother says. ”Next time, study in the living room okay? “ she looks at you two and winks.

Soon she leaves the door and leaves it leaning against it, you and Jimin with your eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

You look at each other and start to laugh softly. You cover your mouth with your hand.

You feel so dirty but at the same time so alive. You can't understand it, you just feel a sense of happiness.

“Do you think she noticed?” Jimin asks

“Well, your hair is practically dripping.” you point out and he quickly starts running his hand through his hair. “I don't think she thinks it's that hard to study biology” you laugh a little

Jimin laughs as he finishes fixing his hair. Your hair isn't perfect either, but the ponytail disguised it a bit. What couldn't be disguised were your completely red cheeks, but that's just a detail.

“We didn't lie, at least.” Jimin says, shrugging.

You throw a pillow at him. He's so cheeky sometimes.

“Let's study for real now!”

You try to sound bossy but it doesn't come out as expected. But Jimin finds your mannerisms cute and agrees.

“Yes, ma'am!”

You really need to focus on something other than reflecting on the events from now.

Things have flowed at such a natural and pressure-free pace that you don’t feel as guilty as you thought you would. And most of all, you trust Jimin, so things are kinda okay.

The thing that bothers you and stayed in your head even when you were already taking a shower to go to bed at night is: things are moving forward gradually and that would be fine, if you weren't best friends.

And your head starts spinning because all of this started under the pretext that you were practicing your first kiss, but look at it now.

You really try not to think about it too much, but as soon as you lay your head on the pillow, the only thing that goes through your mind is: aren't we going too far?

As soon as Jimin enters the classroom early in the morning, the teacher calls on him for a few seconds before starting the class.

“Jimin, I need to talk to you. Please stay at the end of the class” the academic planning teacher says and takes Jimin by surprise.

Jimin agrees and goes to sit in class right behind you. You didn't see him go talk to the teacher because you were talking to the guys and he didn't have time to tell you because class started right after.

He couldn't get it out of his head even during class. Jimin already knew more or less what the teacher was going to say, but he was still nervous. He knew that time was running out and he needed to make a decision about it soon.

At the end of class, you gather your things and wait for Jimin. Everyone has already left but Jimin is still taking a long time.

“Come on, Mimi!”

Jimin is slower than usual. And quieter than usual. You didn't know why. You wanted to ask him on the way home.

“I'm going to have to stay here.”

You don't understand.

“Why?” your face wrinkles in confusion.

Jimin lifts his face and looks at you, he has a serious expression on his face.

“I have a meeting with the academic planning teacher.’

Now you understand. That means it's time for him to decide which dance school he wants to go to, so he can send in his documents and apply. Your heart starts beating faster.

“Oh, that's good, right? Is it about the dance school you want to go to?”

“Yeah…”

You notice that there's something strange about him. Why isn't he happy about this?

“What's wrong with you?”

“It's nothing, I'm just nervous.”

You give him a small smile and move closer to him. It's a big decision, you understand why he's nervous.

“It’s okay, Mimi. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

You know you’re closer than you should be because you can smell his scent and the warmth of his body. But there’s no one around right now and you let yourself be. To be honest, you’re a little tired of pretending you’re not that close in front of others.

Jimin gives you a sad smile. And all he can see are your eyes shining with excitement for him.

If you only knew...

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me”

The room is empty and the school is starting to get quiet because everyone has already rushed out to leave.

Jimin comes closer to you and seals your lips for a few seconds. You are so surprised that you don't even have time to close your eyes.

“For luck”

And you blush.

“I'll go first then.”

Jimin agrees with you and you say goodbye.

"I really think you should apply to that dance school in Seoul, Jimin. It's your best chance, even if it's far away."

Jimin considers the teacher's words, his hands sweating coldly in his lap. Jimin knows the teacher is right, but he doesn't know what to say to that. He hadn't anticipated this whole situation, this whole sudden change of scenery.

He couldn't imagine living in another city alone.

“I know it's a big step to live away from your parents, but you should consider this possibility if it's really your dream.”

Jimin just agrees with everything the teacher says, but he can't say much, even though he's thinking a thousand things at the same time.

"And with your grades and your talent, I'm sure you'll get in."

Jimin is happy, really. But some things hold him back, despite his happiness. And he feels conflicted about his feelings.

When he gets home that day, he knows he's already made up his mind. He just doesn't know how to tell you. And even though you said you'd go with him, he knows that wouldn't be a reality. Your parents are too strict about letting you go to college far from home.

Jimin decides to wait a little longer to tell you about it.

#jimin smut #bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts au #bts x you #bts imagines #jimin x y/n #jimin x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n

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traumadumpwriter · 6 hours ago

Text

JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into drugs, but they're unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Part One

Part Two

Part Three:

After the confrontation at your house a night prior, JJ had only been able to see red, quickly pacing past your mum before making his way to the Chateau, kicking over some bins and verbally abusing some kids on his way.

He couldn't believe that you liked him. That you wanted to be with him. The thought stressed him out and made him regret doing whatever he'd done to get you to fall for him.

It wasn't that he didn't like you back. In fact it was quite the opposite - he'd been entirely obsessed with you ever since you'd arrived in the Outer Banks. His issue was that he'd seen up close just how damaged you were, just how sweet and kind you could be, just how much you deserved the world and everything in it - but not him. He wasn't good enough; not cool enough, not smart enough, not clean enough.

"Why him?" He thought. "Of everyone on this island, why him?"

You could've gone for Pope or John B or even one of the Kooks, at least they would treat you right. It might've killed him inside to see, but it would've been better than the pain he was feeling now, knowing that he'd been unintentionally hurting you this whole time, knowing that he was the one who bore the responsibility of your heart.

He stormed into John B's without stopping, going straight for the blunt in the ashtray and then storming back outside. From his behaviour, the Pogues feared for the worst and Kie's eyes were quickly tearing up, panic settling into her chest.

"She's okay, isn't she?" She followed JJ outside in a pleading tone, shortly followed by Pope and John B. "Please say she's okay."

JJ didn't answer, angrily sucking on the blunt and staring out at the sea, his mind racing.

"Answer me JJ! What's happened?" Kie demanded.

"Is she alright? Was she at home?" Pope questioned.

"JJ- fucking answer us man! Is she at the hospital? Is she- is she okay?" John B shouted.

JJ took another sharp drag on the blunt before solemnly answering.

"She's fine. I mean, she's not, but she's alive."

Kie shoved him with some frustration, her tears quickly drying up but her teeth gritting.

"Why the hell would you scare us like that? What happened?"

"We had an argument... I- You were right Kie. It is my fault."

She blinked incredulously, double taking as she tried to suss out what was wrong with the boy.

"What are you talking about?" She questioned angrily.

He took another sharp drag, even sharper this time, ran his hand through his hair and then turned to the Pogues with exasperation.

"Y/N likes me! And I've been a fucking idiot to not see it. I shouldn't have rubbed all those girls in her face. I didn't think she cared, but.. I guess she did."

"So you're saying that like it's a bad thing. I thought you liked her too." John B proclaimed in a confused tone, shooting a look to Pope who had also been aware of JJ's crush.

Kie was kicking herself for not picking up on that, wishing she’d known and she could’ve told you weeks ago - before you even had the chance to get depressed and pick up a pill again. But she didn’t focus on that thought for too long, more focused on your current wellbeing.

"I do, I just- We all know I'm a piece of shit, okay? I don't deserve someone like her. Hopefully she sees that now." JJ tutted, his eyes darting between each of the Pogues.

The uncertainty of his statement made them all nervous. 'Hopefully she sees that now' - what the hell did that mean?

"What do you mean? What did you do?" Kie hissed, her heart in her throat.

"Nothing! I was just rude. I guess I rejected her. Called her a junkie-"

Kie hit him again, seething with the boy at that point.

"What is wrong with you? Why the fuck would you do that?" She snapped, grabbing the blunt from his hand and throwing it onto the floor. "Go back there now and tell her you love her! She's probably crying her heart out right now."

JJ shook his head, thinking about picking up the blunt from the ground but not bothering. Weed wasn't strong enough to make him feel better anyway. He wanted to follow Kie's instruction, he wanted to hold you and tell you his truth, but he could think of too many reasons why not to - too many reasons why you were better off without him. The rejection may hurt now but you would get over it. You had plenty of other options. You would get sober again and you would be fine. His issue was that whether he was sober or not, he was never fine.

"Being with me would only fuck up her life more and you all know that! You should just convince her to like someone else, someone whose good for her. I can't do this." JJ protested.

"You're not a bad guy, man. Come on." John B said but JJ just shook his head again, walking towards his motorbike.

"So you're just gonna leave?" Pope scoffed as JJ got onto the bike.

"I told her to turn on her phone. Try calling her again." He said numbly before kick starting the bike and speeding off.

Kie groaned, unsurprised that when she called your phone moments later it didn't go through. She sat melancholically next to Pope, leaning on his shoulder whilst John B stressfully kicked a stick around.

"Well that's not what I was expecting." Pope sighed and then turned to Kie. "How long has Y/N been crushing on JJ exactly?"

She shrugged and shook her head.

"I don't know. Forever. But that doesn't matter anyway. I'm worried. It must've taken a lot for her to admit that she likes him, so she's either really manic or.."

"Really high." John B finished her sentence, not looking up from the ground.

"How much do you want to bet it's the second one?" Pope groaned.

"I just don't get why she didn't talk to me if JJ was upsetting her this much. She promised us she'd never use again. She's never broken a promise before." Kie sighed and then stood up. "I'm gonna go to hers. I'm annoyed but.. I'm more worried than anything. I wonder if her mum has clocked on yet… I’ll see you guys tomorrow."

"Love that woman but she's clueless so I doubt it." John B scoffed dryly. "See you tomorrow Kie."

Kie picked up her bike and rode it to your house, her mind racing with all the possibilities of what you could be doing.

"Most likely passed out or crying." She thought, her chest aching as she thought of your pain. You'd been through a lot together, and though she was beyond frustrated with your relapse, she wouldn't stop being your friend because of it.

When Kie eventually knocked on your door, your mum was surprised to open it to her.

"Isn't Y/N at yours? That's where she said she was going. JJ upset her quite a bit earlier." Your mum questioned and Kie was quick to catch on to the lie.

"Oh yeah- yeah she is. She's just so upset right now. She forgot some stuff and I said I would come and get it for her."

"You're so lovely Kie. What would she do without you?" Your mum smiled, letting her in.

When Kie went up to your bedroom and picked up a bag to strengthen her lie, she was concerned to see that your phone was still on your bed. Wherever you'd gone, you hadn't brought it. She turned on the phone in hope that it would give some clue as to where you could be, but all that came through were the missed calls and messages from the Pogues.

Kie couldn't let herself panic though. You were grown enough to look after yourself.

"Maybe she just went on a walk. Or a bike ride even. That's most likely. She probably just went to clear her head. I'll try again tomorrow." Kie thought to herself, but she took the phone anyway, hoping that when you came back you would have to come get it off her. She scrawled a note onto your mirror with an eyeliner from the side; "Got ur phone. P4L. - K"

The next day, Kie waited until the afternoon to leave her house, waiting for your knock on the door that never came. She decided that she would go back to your house and confront you there, but when she arrived there was no one inside. Your mum would be at work - that made sense - but after pounding on your door loud enough to wake you up from whatever slumber you might be in and getting no answer, she started to panic.

All of the worst possibilities sprung into her head - a horrific vision of you overdosed and alone, bent over the toilet and throwing up uncontrollably or even passed out and foaming at the mouth - so she quickly rushed to find the spare key under one of the many plant pots and slammed it into the door. She ran up the stairs, loudly repeating your name as she did, and paced into your room.

"Y/N, please be okay." She said before opening the door, her heart dropping when you weren't in the bed.

Nothing in the room had moved, not the crumpled up bedding, the pile of clothes in the corner nor the note on the mirror. You hadn't come back.

"Shit. Where the fuck is she?" She muttered to herself before pacing around the house, desperately searching for you but finding nothing. "Need to find her."

Now her mind raced to even darker corners. Perhaps you'd fallen into one of the many bodies of water on the island, high and uncoordinated, and drowned. Or maybe you'd crashed your bike into an oncoming vehicle. Maybe you'd passed out somewhere and someone had called an ambulance, or maybe you’d put yourself in danger without even realising it. She had no idea how spot on she was with the last prediction.

Kie had told Pope of her plan to force you to come to hers by keeping your phone, and all of the boys had assumed that the confrontation had been over and done with by that point, so they were confused when she turned up at the Chateau without you.

"Did you speak to YN?" JJ asked, springing up from his seat as soon as he spotted Kie.

He'd hardly slept, tossing around in his bed all night as he thought of all the things he wanted to say to you but couldn't. "It was better this way." He tried to convince himself "She's better off thinking I don't want her. Maybe she didn't even mean what she said. Maybe she was just high." He couldn't push the image of him holding you and loving you from his head though.

"No. She never came to mine." Kie huffed, wheeling her bike over with furrowed brows. "And before you ask - yes I went to hers, she's not there. Doesn't look like she's been home at all since I went there last night."

"So where is she?" John B questioned, his posture tightening.

"Do I look like I know?" Kie snapped. "I'm seriously worried."

"Shit." JJ hissed, instantly jumping into a panic. He was quick and erratic. "Okay. We should all split up and look for her. I'll check the marsh and the forest, Kie you should check figure eight, Pope you check town, and John B you take the boat and check the waters. Report back here in two hours."

He rushed towards his motorbike before anyone could even answer, but stopped in his tracks when Pope suggested a disheartening idea. It was an idea that had occurred to both John B and Kie as soon as JJ had announced his plan, though it didn’t surprise them that he didn’t think of it. He was someone who always lived in a somewhat state of denial.

"Don't you think one of us should check the hospital too? You know, just in case."

JJ swallowed, catching the lump in his throat before it could properly form, and nodded.

"Y-Yeah. You do that." He said without turning around. He wanted to argue - to say that the idea was ridiculous and a waste of time - but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Pope might be right, and if he was... JJ had to cut his thoughts off before they got too hard to bare. He jumped onto his bike and sped off, heading straight to the marshes.

His search was obviously fruitless. He waded through knee high mud and lifted up heavy logs. He dug through thick bushes and climbed up trees. He shouted your name at the top of his lungs and prayed to God that you would appear.

But none of it worked.

By time the two hour mark had hit, he'd searched miles of forestry and worked up quite a sweat. Still, he wouldn't stop until he knew you were safe.

"Maybe one of the others have found her." He thought desperately to himself, jumping on his bike and heading back to the Chateau. They'd all tried to convince themselves with the same hopeful thought and been sorely disappointed when they eventually returned to their friends. JJ was the last to arrive.

"Any luck?" He shouted from his bike before he'd even got off it, springing across the lawn.

The rest of the Pogues were stood in a circle, also damp with sweat and breathing heavily. They looked upset which was understandable given the situation, but JJ felt his heart jump into his throat as he worried that the unimaginable had happened.

"Pope! She wasn't in the hospital, was she?" He asked with urgency, pacing over to the boy.

Pope was breathing heavily, still catching his breath from the run back to the Chateau.

"Pope!" JJ repeated in an almost shout, shaking his friends shoulders.

"No- No." Pope panted out.

"Chill, JJ. None of us had any luck." John B patted him on the back with a sympathetic look.

It didn't calm him down though. Instead he started to anxiously pace, running his hands through his hair and repeating to himself "Think, JJ. Think!"

"She might just be at someone's house. Who knows, she could be having a great time right now while we're thinking the worst." John B suggested which Kie rolled her eyes at.

"The only people she’d ever hang out with other than us are druggie degenerates, so it's not exactly great if she's with them either. Those people wouldn't care if she was on the floor foaming at the mouth."

"Well I don't know what you want me to suggest, Kie! We've looked everywhere else. Should we start banging on the doors of every junkie we know? Because that could take a while!"

As John B and Kie bickered, JJ continued his pacing, racking his mind for ideas until one shot into his head like a bullet.

"Wait-Wait. What did you just say?" He turned to his arguing friends.

"That she's probably with some drugged up degenerate?" John B answered in a sarcastic tone.

"That's it! She's probably at her dealers house. And I know only one scum bag who sells that prescription shit."

JJ ran back to his bike without saying another word, ignoring the questions from the Pogues as he kick started it and sped off - some hope finally in his mind though it was still mostly clouded by worry.

"Should we follow him?" Pope asked.

"Probably." Kie answered, heading towards the Twinkie with a sigh.

It was ten minutes later that JJ pulled up by Barry's house, carefully parking his bike around the corner so that the dealer wouldn't see him. They'd had their fair share of arguments already about JJ's dad and due to this JJ knew that he had a gun. It wouldn't do him any good to get caught on his property.

The blonde paced through the overgrown front lawn and almost jumped for joy when he saw your bike strewn lazily into one of the bushes - the signature ugly green paint instantly catching his eye. You would just be sat on the sofa smoking a joint or something. He could knock on the door, distract Barry without getting shot somehow and get you out of there in no time.

Then the sound of a large vehicle coming towards the house reached his ears, and he quickly ducked around the corner and crouched under one of the windows, anxious to not be caught by one of Barry's customers either. They typically weren't the most reasonable people after all. He was relieved with his decision when Rafe Cameron jumped out of the truck, music blaring and obnoxiously announcing himself as he knocked loudly on the front door.

JJ's ear pricked as he heard Barry's voice from inside, not having realised that the window on the wall above his head was open.

"Shit." The dealer tutted, followed by the sound of a zip. "Why now?"

Barry's breathing was heavy, like he'd been doing exercise, and it peaked JJ's curiosity. Was he working out whilst you watched from the sofa? That would be fucking weird. There was no way you would be lifting weights with him.

JJ listened carefully, waiting for the sound of the front door to open and the start of a passive aggressive conversation between the two men before he stood up and looked in the window. If either of them caught him, that would be a lot of trouble.

He wasn't at all prepared for what he saw through the glass though.

The sound of the zip suddenly made sense, and the heavy breathing. You were there, lying in an unmade bed, stripped naked and seemingly asleep. Even unconscious your face looked so sad and your body looked tired; thin, with random bruises scattered about your limbs and dirty looking hickies on your chest.

Had you let Barry do this? Surely not. Surely you had more self respect than that.

The thought of any other man touching you was enough to make JJ feel upset, let alone a scumbag dealer that he knew you would never have any real feelings for. But then it dawned onto him - that if you hadn't wanted Barry to have sex with you, that didn't make it any better. In fact, it made it a whole lot worse.

It meant that... you'd been tricked or forced or coerced in some way. It meant that you'd been raped. And maybe you didn't even know it. Maybe you were so knocked out that you would have no idea what Barry had done. Maybe he had drugged you on purpose so that he could do it.

JJ's blood boiled, so much so that he felt himself getting physically hotter, his teeth grinding and his fists clenching. He tapped on the window, hoping to get a response from you, but you stayed stiff and still, your eyes closed and your breathing shallow.

How much had you taken? Had he given you something too strong? Did the dealer even know if you were on the boundary of never waking up? Did he care? Either way, there was no way you could've rightfully consented to doing anything sexual with anyone. Not when you were clearly out cold.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." JJ hissed to himself, trying to quickly brainstorm a way to get you out of there without getting killed by Rafe or Barry.

He pulled out his phone and went to text John B before remembering that he'd ran out of data, cursing himself for not paying his bill once again. Then he decided to creep around the back and listen in through another window, hoping that he'd overhear something to help with his plan. All that he heard didn't serve to help though, in fact it made his rage all the more fiery and his brain even less able to come up with a good idea. The desperation was becoming torturous.

"Where's Y/L/N then? I can see her ugly ass bike out the front." Rafe asked in a mocking tone.

"She's in bed, sleeping. What's it to you country club?" Barry answered.

Rafe scoffed. "I caught you mid fuck didn't I? Sorry for being a cock block bro. Can't say I'm not jealous. Bet she's a total freak in the sheets."

JJ could practically hear the smug smirk on Barry's face.

"Yeah, tits like you've never seen. And pussy like a vice grip. You wanna come take a look? She's out cold."

"You already know my answer to that, bro." Rafe chuckled.

JJ's eyes widened, a deep panic settling into his chest. You would be mortified to know that Rafe Cameron had been ogling your exposed form, let alone the potential that Barry might actually let him sleep with you. He ran back around to the other window and banged on it one more time in hopes of waking you up before quickly ducking down again just as the two men entered the room. He couldn't stay down and listen to their crass remarks this time, he couldn't bare it. He had to cause a distraction.

With a rush of inspiration, he picked up a rock and lobbed it at Rafe's truck, creating a loud thud as it dented the exterior. The two degenerates stormed outside at that and JJ heard the sound of a gun clicking.

"What the fuck was that?" Barry muttered whilst Rafe angrily proclaimed "Something dented my ride!"

"If there's anybody out there, you better come out now!" He shouted, his voice echoing around the vacant lot of overgrown swampland.

Then right on cue, the Twinkie pulled around the corner, a very confused looking John B in the drivers seat with Kie and Pope sat behind him. Rafe scoffed something bigoted about the Pogues before stamping over to the van, knocking so hard on the window that he was almost punching it. JJ would've been glad for his friends arrival if not for the pistol in Barry's hand.

"You dented my fucking car. Get the fuck out here!" Rafe demanded as Kie slid open the door, pacing at him with a scowl.

"We didn't do shit to your car. Now where the fuck is Y/N?"

"Didn't do shit? Look at the dent! You're paying for this Kie - since I know you're the only one with any money."

"I'm not paying for something I didn't do. Now tell me where my friend is. I can see her bike there and I swear to god if either of you have hurt her-"

"What are you gonna do? Huh?" Rafe cut her off with an intimidating smirk, stepping so that he was inches from her face. "You can't do shit."

Pope jumped out of the van and quickly got in between them, his nostrils flaring as he eyed the sociopath. John B quickly jumped out too, though before he could open his mouth to say anything Barry had cocked the gun and pointed it at the trio.

"Y/N ain't here. She bought her pills and wondered off into the marsh. Left her bike behind. Now if you want to find her before the gators do, you lot best be on your way."

No one moved an inch, horrified by the revelation of Barry's statement.

"And you just let her go? What is wrong with you? She could be dead!" Pope hissed, an unexpected volume to his voice.

JJ could no longer sit and silently listen knowing that his friends were about to embark on another wild goose chase. You were there, mere feet away. This was their best opportunity to do something before anything else could happen to you.

Feeling that the dealer was sufficiently distracted, JJ decided to fully open the window and climb inside, struggling slightly with the old frame as he pushed it up. Once he was in, he instantly rushed to your side, gently shaking your shoulder in an attempt to wake you up again.

"Y/N it's me. We've got to go." He whispered, only getting a groan back from you.

Your hair was splayed messily around your face like the petals of a flower, making him think to the mornings he'd spent with you in the past. How he'd woken up beside you after a night of drinking and wanted to kiss you, but held himself back in fear that you would find it weird. That you would remind him that you were only friends with the occasional benefit. That you'd laugh in his face. If only he'd known how wrong he was.

Perhaps he didn't deserve you, but if being by yourself meant that you were going to do this to yourself... he would have to fight until the end of the earth to be with you.

In that moment, he regretted so many of his past actions. From the random girls he'd kissed in front of you to his recent rejection of you, he knew that once you were safe and awake he would do anything and everything to take it all back.

You would be his. No one else's... This could never happen again. No one other than him would touch you. He wouldn't allow it.

He looked around the room in a panic, picking up your shirt from the floor and lifting your head so that he could pull it over your body. Your body weight was resisting his actions, dead and heavy, but when he found your underwear and started to pull them up your legs, you finally flinched awake - even if it was only slightly.

"No Barry. Not again." You mumbled, lifting your leg to kick him away.

"It's me - JJ. We're gonna get you out of here." He said quietly, pulling your panties up so that you were covered and then slipping his arms underneath you to hoist you up bridal style.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, your heart jumping into your throat.

"JJ?" You whimpered, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"It's me baby. It's me." He repeated in a hushed tone. "You're safe now."

Then he heard the sound of the van starting outside and knew that he had to be faster. He looked around the room for a weapon and was pleased when he spotted a shotgun leant against the wardrobe, an idea springing into his head. He quickly put you back down on the bed.

"No. No. Don't leave me." You choked out, your breathing becoming rapid with panic. It broke JJ's heart to hear.

"I'll be two seconds. I promise you'll be okay." He mustered the softest tone that he could, stroking your face and placing a delicate kiss on your forehead before picking up the gun and charging out of the room.

As soon as you were out of his sight, his bubbling anger returned. No longer would he be able to put on a calm front, that time had ran out. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his skin went hot again, thinking of the vile words he'd overheard.

He pumped the gun one time, making sure it was loaded, and then slammed open the front door, quickly drawing the attention of the bickering degenerates outside. John B also quickly noticed his friend too, instantly stopping the Twinkie from reversing and jumping out again as he watched JJ in disbelief. The scene moved so quickly that none of the Pogue's were able to immediately process it.

With a cry of anger, JJ lifted the gun above his shoulder and then slammed the butt of it as hard as he could into Barry's head, knocking him out instantly. The dealer fell to the ground and dropped his own gun, and before Rafe could reach for it, JJ pressed the barrel to his chest. Rafe held his hands up in nervous surrender, though it didn't mean much.

"I should fucking kill you both!" JJ shouted. "You fucking piece of shit. You like girls when they're passed out? Huh? You like girls that can't say no?"

"Woah man. Chill. I didn't touch her." Rafe tried to calm him down, his eyes wide with fright. "It was all Barry. I just got here!"

At the realisation of what JJ had alluded to, the three other Pogues ran to join in the confrontation again. They felt sick at the idea that you might've been hurt - especially by two such unsavoury characters.

"Where is she?" Kie shouted, throwing punches into Rafe's side whilst Pope picked up Barry's pistol from the floor and kicked his body a few times.

"Inside." JJ answered through gritted teeth, staring Rafe down and struggling to not pull the trigger. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

Rafe stumbled for a moment, swallowing before he collected himself and answered confidently "I didn't even touch her. Kill me and you’re going away for life! There’s not gonna be any of my DNA on Y/N, I can promise that! I’m not into passed out chicks. That’s all Barry.”

JJ didn’t move for a second, thinking on the boys words before lowering the gun slightly. He would make him suffer another time. In that moment, Barry deserved his attention much more.

"Get the fuck out of here." JJ eventually hissed.

Rafe did exactly that, backing away quickly to his truck and speeding off. The blonde turned his attention to Barry now, who was groaning as he slowly arose from the ground. Without hesitation, JJ bent down to his level and started to throw punches, blinded by fury and bloodlust. His nose cracked first, then his cheekbone, then his eye socket. JJ didn't know how long he'd been attacking him for when he felt John B's touch on his shoulder and heard his voice in his ear. The brunette had found you in the house and lifted you into the Twinkie during JJ’s raging, stood and watched for a moment and then decided to stop his friend, worried for your welfare despite enjoying the show very much.

"Come on JJ, that's enough."

Barry's face was an unrecognisable bloody mess, but he couldn't stop.

"J, you're gonna kill him."

That didn't matter.

"We need to get Y/N out of here. Let's go!"

The sound of your name did halt him. His knuckles were bruised and his chest was panting.

"He raped her, John B. She was passed out in there and naked when I found her!" He turned to his friend with a desperate expression. "We need to kill him."

"I know, I know. But he's not worth the prison sentence, J." John B struggled to bite back his own rage but managed to do so, speaking in a soft tone as he tried to calm his friend. "We'll make him suffer, don't you worry. But right now we need to go."

The blonde boy finally nodded in agreement, feeling somewhat dizzy from the adrenaline as he stood up and made his way to the Twinkie. Once he saw you inside, your half dressed body curled up on Kie's lap as you cried, the guilt came back to him in an agonising gut punch.

"This entire thing had been practically all his fault." Was all he could think. "From the relapse to this. He'd fucked you up without even trying."

He ignored his friends shouts as he paced back to his bike and said nothing as he rode off, deciding that he would go to a bar and drink his thoughts away for the night. As John B had said; it wasn't worth getting a prison sentence for murder, but that didn't mean he couldn't find some other random people to fight.

Hiiii I hope y’all enjoyed. I might make a part 4 depending on feedback. Stay safe!!

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redbo-and-simbo · 2 days ago

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(So..he probably would've left her around the workshop, right?)

(Probably.)

(I haven't been by there in a while. I've mostly been with Seawatt or following the android. Maybe he's got some new gadget I could mess around with.)

(Or steal.)

. . .

(sculk sensor goes off)

(machinery starts whirring)

Wait- What?

ACK-!

(A wind charge?? From where??)

(vent grate is opened with a triggered lever)

WOOAH-!

(weight falls onto a pair of arms)

Got you.

(sounds of struggle)

Let go of me!

Would you quit squirming? I'm getting so sick of you running away.

(weight slams against a tabletop)

(pained hiss)

(a metal clasp clicks)

Wh- Hey! What are you doing? Get away!

(a sneaker slams into a visor and it clatters to the floor)

Shit-! Ow- I knew I should've done the legs first.

(another clasp clicks)

Whatever. Would you stop struggling? It's only going to make things harder for both of us.

Hey, don't you-

Stay still. Please.

(another)

I'm not going to hurt you.

You're literally strapping me to some weird table!

Touché.

(the final click of metal)

You just have to believe me. I don't want any harm to come to you.

(sounds of struggle continue)

..But you're only going to hurt yourself if you keep trying to escape again. You're dumber than you're supposed to be if you think you can break those clasps.

And stop looking at me like that. You're not in danger. I just know that you're stubborn, and you know how to worm your way out of problems. I knew I wouldn't be able to speak to you without you running off.

It's not favorable, but I'd advise you calm down, or else I'll just have to administer a drug to make you.

How can I be calm right now, man? I don't trust you.

Just take it easy..

(head suddenly slams into the table)

Get your hands away from me.

You're not in any danger, it's alright.

(breathing picks up)

(Does he really have to put his hands in my hair? Seriously?)

(Crap, right. He's an Evbo, too. He knows all my weaknesses.)

(I hate all this, but..)

(breathing slows and becomes more steady)

(His nails feel so nice..)

Theeere we go. Good.

Let's get that mask off of you.

(click)

(deep breath)

(gas mask is set aside)

Feels better?

...

Right. I should've guessed you wouldn't be so eager to speak.

Well, I still have questions. So as I observe you, I'd like for you to answer them. Sound good?

..I don't really have a choice, do I?

No, I assure you you do. There's no consequence to not answering.

(Get your hands of my face, dude. Ugh- My eyes are closed but I can still feel him staring at me.)

I suppose my first question is simple: you were sent to me by the Creator, yes?

(He'd kill me if I was just some rogue Evbo..)

Y..Yeah. I was.

What are you? Are you him? Or are you another one of his creations?

(I've gotta play into his insane ideas.)

No. I'm just- Something of a prophet. Is the um..best way I can put it.

So I was right..

What does he want from me? What do I need to do for him to accept me as his only marionette?

I can't say.

You can't say?

I'm..just supposed to tell him when the time is right.

(sigh)

I suppose it's beyond my understanding. I'm not sure why he picked you of all Evbos. You're no different than the rest.

(rustle of cloth being pushed up)

(sharp breath)

As far as visible physical differences—chapped lips, longer hair, decreased muscle mass—they're all just results of external factors. Wearing that mask, time, and, I'd assume, hiding in the vents so often you don't eat properly, respectively.

That hand feels so weird.

Hm?

(I didn't mean to say that out loud..)

The textureless one.

I figured.

..This undershirt's not yours. I suppose my theory about you finding Seawatt is correct?

...

Right. Then I suppose my project was worth pursuing after all.

Do me a favor and stay still and calm for me. I need to run some diagnostic tests.

What kind of tests?

I need to examine your physiology, and your brainwaves.

(two latches click open)

You're not even going to put up a fight?

My legs are still trapped. I can't really do much.

But you could still struggle, attack me, make a commotion until someone stops by to help you out. Yet you're doing none of that.

I'd almost say you enjoy having my hands on you.

...

(chuckle)

Your silence is telling, "Simbo."

(Ugh. Hate this guy.)

(rustling of cloth)

(a hoodie and shirt are dropped on the floor)

(clasps click again)

(visor is picked up from the floor)

I just have to hook up some stuff, alright? And don't worry, I wouldn't hurt someone sent by the Creator. That's too precious a resource to lose.

(..I know this is just a facade, but..I kind of like feeling important..)

. . .

(machine whirring)

(incoherent, analytical mumbling)

(writing)

...How's Widget, by the way?

Oh. That's right. You named her, didn't you?

The Viewers were saying you wanted to see her?

Yeah. And then I got stuck here.

(chuckle)

Right. I apologize for all this. It won't have to be like this next time. If you don't run off, anyway.

..I'll take your word for it.

Still skeptical, I see. I can't blame you. Regardless, I suppose you could pay her a visit before you head back to the vents.

She's in my room. Feel free to rest there, if you'd like.

Wh- Oh- Really?

Of course. You're welcome to at any time.

Right. Gotcha.

. . .

Alright, that's all the data I need to collect.

(clasps click one by one)

(shifting)

(clothes are grabbed off the floor)

..Thanks.

(clothes rustling as they're pulled back on)

No problem.

I'm gonna dismantle the machine I set up in the vents to get you down here. My room's the door over there.

Right. Uh.. Cool.

. . .

(door creaks open)

(sneakers step across a wooden floor)

(bed creaks as weight sinks onto the edge)

Hey there, kitty.

Mrrp!

#simulation evbo #simbo #redbo #redbo and simbo blog #pvp civilization #parkour civilization #parkciv #pvpciv #ask blog #rp blog #evbocest

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tetedurfarm · 1 day ago

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also in case anyone was wondering - i did not forget about my desire to help people get into rabbits. i have not really stopped thinking about it since november and it's only getting to be more and more in the forefront of my mind. i am waiting on the last few bits of art and information from others that i need to launch my website, which will hopefully be up by the end of the month. it won't be 100% as complete as i'd like, mostly just because i haven't been able to film all the video i need since showing is slow right now, but it'll be usable and worthwhile at least.

second, i am still looking into maybe doing in-person classes or over zoom or something, too about raising rabbits and especially butchering since that is a question i got a Lot. unfortunately as you can imagine it might be hard to find somewhere to let me do in-person butchering classes since, y'know, usually places don't want you getting blood on the floor, but we'll see. those sorts of events won't be happening until spring/summer, though, just because of weather and also because rabbits don't like to breed in winter and i want to have growouts available to use for those tutorials.

lastly, i am also still damn serious about helping people get started if you are able. i will help you find rabbits, equipment, etc. i am planning on breeding litters of good meat mutts that i can give away to local people (but you gotta actually take me up on them!) again, i don't have anything really right now, but in summer/fall i will probably have animals coming out of my ears. please, let me give you rabbits lol. i want you guys to have safe meat in these upcoming years. plus they're cute :)

anyway. just wanted to put this out there in case anyone was wondering. i care a lot about this and it's something i'm good at and i have resources i want to share, i just gotta figure out a good way to do it that is as inexpensive and accessible as possible while also allowing you guys to get some hands-in experience.

#there's a lot of small rentable spaces in seattle which is where most of the people i would be teaching are probably going to live #but will they let me kill rabbits in their space?#ag halls may let me butcher but they are going to be way out of the way for anyone who lives in a city #and sorry guys you aren't coming to my house. i want to be helpful but i'm not crazy #so ...y'know. logistics :')#ag talk

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revvethasmythh · 2 days ago

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so like please dont block me but do you have anything you've liked about cr 3?

i'm going to be honest here: this is a valid question (the answer to which is "yes, obviously. I didn't sit around watching 119 4-hour long episodes because i'm THAT dedicated to hating things") but prefacing it with the idea that i'd block someone for being positive (or asking me a positive question) about c3 is a rather ugly supposition about me that I don't appreciate. if i don't fuck with something i'll talk about it in my own space, as is my right, but if someone DOES fuck with something i'll never impose my own negativity on that and i would, undoubtedly, have responded genuinely about what i liked without any prefacing required. i really don't think i've ever presented myself as the type of person who would respond to a simple query in that manner.

of course there are things i've liked about c3. chetney and orym and dorym and watching imogen evolve into someone i DO like (while awkwardly watching laudna devolve into someone i don't, granted). fcg's character arc, the complicated family dynamics of pretty much every PC, and EVERYTHING about life on ruidus and the idea of what the world will look like with ruidians on exandria proper. shithead the bird. the party split. professor vitro isham and the entire city of yios. the volition and gaz tomo. fuck, man, i have effectively garnered a reputation as the #1 relvin AND rashinna stan, and it's not because I hate everything in the campaign. i think the pacing was weird and the plot has been clunky and the pcs aren't ideal fits for the story being told and the issue with the gods isn't supported by the text. these are things being heavily discussed now that we're in an endgame phase. but it only takes a glancing look through my tags or archive to find the things i do and HAVE liked for the past three years. if i'd hated it all, I wouldn't be here watching the end of it live

#asks #starry-river-serval #additionally a lot of the complaints i've had in the entire campaign have been directed at fan responses almost more than the text itself #the fandom has been a MESS #cr tag

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baggebythesea · 11 hours ago

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Guys… I.. I just want to tell you that to have two of my fics - no, scratch that, chapters and snippets - so casually remembered and referenced is really heartwarming. Thanks for making my day! I love this fandom.

I love your ideas and I'd love for you to expand on them (and I'm delighted that you use Glimmer dates everyone and Friendship Wrench as a part of it), but as for me - I'm honestly pretty happy with what we got, because from where I stand we got a wonderful, heartfelt mutual apology between Glimmer and Entrapta.

My take on their relationships is that despite they both hurting each other a lot, it's not personal. It's about their own relationship to the world.

Glimmer has very strong feelings about Entrapta, but she doesn't know her all that well. The problem is that - just as Glimmer rubs against Entrapta's insecurities (it's in her princess alliance Entrapta feels left out), Entrapta does the same to Glimmer.

Entrapta seemingly died trying to rescue Glimmer, which directly lead to the princess alliance dissolving, thereby demonstrating Glimmer's inability to keep her allies safe. This lead to Glimmer's and Bow's ill fated rescue attempt of Entrapta, that led to both the humiliation when they kidnapped Catra, and the devastating reveal that Entrapta didn't want to be saved, striking a blow both against Glimmer's ego and the fundament of the new princess alliance. Scorpia could be explained away as indoctrinated, but if Entrapta switched sides is not the princesses against the Horde any longer.

Entrapta froze the whispering woods. Entrapta built the portal. Glimmer realizes that there is no malice behind those acts, but since Glimmers worldview is so shaped by the war, she doesn't get WHY Entrapta did it.

When the tension between Glimmer and Adora reaches its peak Scorpia puts fuel on the flames by telling them about Entrapta on Beast Island. Yet again Glimmer gets what she wants in the worst way possible. She desperately wanted to save Entrapta - and now she has the chance. But if she does, she risks to lose Brightmoon. And after that, after all betrayal and desperation and isolation, and after finding it in herself to make peace with Catra, and even be forced to look at Hordak more emphatically than before, Entrapta was instrumental in saving her. With no reproach, no "I told you so", just happily doing her part. While Glimmer's stomach churns with guilt, Entrapta just happily moves on (or rather, has already processed her feelings towards the princesses).

This puts Glimmer in a similar position as Catra, emotionally. And if we had seen an onscreen apology from Glimmer, it would have been just the same. Perhaps Entrapta would need some more prompting to figure out just what 'the pink one' was apologizing for, but she would accept it just as casually.

The thing is, that Glimmer's big problem with Entrapta is not really what Entrapta has done - not even the truly damaging stuff like the whispering woods or the portal. It's that Entrapta's choices put Glimmer's own choices in question. It threatened Glimmer's idea of herself. And by the time they reunite, Glimmer has already been thoroughly humbled. She KNOWS she was wrong to trust Light Hope, know that she should have gone to Beast Island with Bow and Adora (please note that this isn't about what would have been objectively right in that situation - this is what Glimmer herself believes), she should have remembered that no princess is left behind.

And Glimmer rebuilt from that. She apologized to Bow and Adora. She was immediately on board with rescuing Catra. In short, she worked really hard to be the person she SHOULD have been when Entrapta needed her to be.

And if that's not an apology in a language Entrapta understands, I don't know what is. I truly love Glimmer during those episodes in the middle of S5 when she works so hard to be the BEST at friendship to make up for her little boo-boo in s4.

Glimmer didn't say a single word to question Entrapta during this entire time at Darla. She's completely onboard with refueling on the crystal planet. She has no issue with the name of the space ship or steering into an asteroid field. She follows Entrapta's directions on Krytis without questions. The closest she came to disagreeing with Entrapta was asking if dying was a possibility during the infiltration of Horde Prime's ship, and wrecking Prime's computer while Entrapta was working on it. And most importantly, Glimmer jumped to accept Wrong Hordak. Entrapta brought a stray clone? Sure, absolutely. It's not like Glimmer just beat up a room full of them or anything. This is Entrapta's clone, that mean he is OK. He's Glimmer's baking buddy now. Glimmer's every action after Catra rescues her speaks of trust in Entrapta.

Glimmer and Entrapta both hurt each other during the run of the show, but they both grow into a version of themselves that can do better. They demonstrate this to each other in a way they fully understand - and I think that's beautiful.

Bonus: Glimmer clinging to Entrapta during atmospheric reentry

Wow, that was a bit of a ramble.

TLDR: Glimmer and Entrapta's conflict was not personal, but they both hurt each other. Their apology consisted of working hard to be the person the other needed.

I’ve been trying to come up with my own head canons for this and I felt like I made a break through with Bagge’s Fic: “Glimmer dates everyone” but how would you have imagined her and Entrapta’s reunion after rescuing her in space?

Considering Glimmer’s earlier decision to abandon Entrapta on Beast Island and after everything how do you think she’d go about apologizing and trying to make up for that?

Sorry if this ask is kind of incoherent. I’d just like to hear an interpretation from someone who understands Entrapta better than I feel I ever could.

Ah, well; I don’t know how well I understand Entrapta, but I do have something of an opinion on what you ask!

Personally, I would have enjoyed Glimmer and Entrapta’s reunion to have involved an acknowledgement of Hordak. Given how Glimmer was very... let’s say “less enthusiastic” about rescuing Entrapta, while Entrapta was very much instrumental in rescuing her, I feel like a good way to deepen their relationship and actually cement a friendship between them would be Glimmer making an effort to help Entrapta regain what she’s lost (AKA Hordak).

And I know this might seem difficult, given that Glimmer is Bright Moon’s queen and has a less-than-positive stance on Hordak, but! She saw what happened to him on Prime’s ship. She saw what he actually was, what his life was actually like. And having a front-row seat to that... I think it would be meaningful for her to offer Entrapta comfort, and to have some level of conflict in her views on the situation. Especially given how she embraces Wrong Hordak.

Obviously not something that happened in the show, but I would have enjoyed it!

#spop #glimmer #entrapta

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makoodles · 1 year ago

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ミmy daddy didn't love me so i guess i've moved onto you

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, daddy kink, undefined age gap, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, both reader and price have a daddy kink that they indulge in with very little discussion, allusions to reader having a bad relationship with her father (but nothing concrete), price uses a lot of pet names for reader and also calls himself daddy several times

title is inspired by the song peter bogdanovich by my queen CMAT

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you’re damn good at your job.

You have to be in order to survive in this ridiculous goddamn base. There are protocols to be followed, risk assessments to carry out, weapons and equipment requisition requests to send off, and you have to handle almost all of it for Task Force 141. That’s one thing about working with the military – they’re all about action, and rarely have the patience to fill in their paperwork, and then when they do it’s never done properly.

You’re patient when you need to be, willing to push when you have to, and you make sure shit gets done. It’s not an easy job; you work your ass off, and it’s often thankless. Most of your job is done behind the scenes, whether that’s requisitioning on-the-fly tactical or strategic airlifts, liaising with other units, or trying desperately to smooth over any little problems that might crop up with the higher-ups.

It’s challenging and exhausting, and you love it, but damn, it can be fucking infuriating. Working in a male-dominated environment is a little bit soul-destroying, with every condescending comment and lascivious gaze that lingers over your body. But none of that matters, because you don’t need male approval to excel at your job. You don’t need male approval for anything.

You repeat it to yourself on the daily, which is something that you’ve never had to do before. But before, you weren’t working with Captain John Price.

He’s not… rude, per se. If anything, he’s always coolly polite. But it’s obvious, so obvious, that he just barely tolerates you. He’s gruff, short, to-the-point, and never speaks to you outside of brusque orders. It takes weeks for him to start trusting you with even the most basic of files, and even then chunks of information are often redacted. And it shouldn’t matter; you’ve worked for men like him before, you know how it goes, and if anything he’s one of the better ones.

In the beginning, when you had first been assigned to the task force, Price had not been happy about it. It had been a tough transition; your assignment had been approved by Laswell in order to take some of the strain of liaising off both her and Price, but the Captain hadn’t been too pleased about it. He had seen you as a sort of interloper, a silly little pencil-pusher sent in by the brass to do the grunt work of administration that no one else wants to do.

But you work hard, you always have done. And maybe… maybe, part of the reason that you end up busting your balls so hard is because you want– no. Maybe you need his approval. You’d prefer not to think about it; it’s easier to throw yourself into your work, and pretend that you’re doing it for you.

You’re not even sure how it started, but at some point, Price starts looking at you differently. Maybe he realises that you’re competent at your job, or maybe he just needs to get used to you. Maybe, you hope, he’s finally starting to realise that you’re good at what you do; that you can be an asset to the team, so long as they actually work with you.

Whatever it is, he eases off. Stops being such a hard-ass, starts giving you space to do your thing. Eventually, he starts delegating too — stops hoarding the work like a miser, and finally starts treating you like you’re capable of something more than just photocopying.

He’s not a bad boss, not by a long shot. He’s kind, determined, patient when it matters, with a wry sense of humour. He’s also fiercely protective over his team, and that includes you now.

But he’s also older, by at least fifteen years, and he’s not always the most diligent with paperwork. Typical man of action, you’ve seen it a hundred times before. There’s always something more important to do, and while he’s always so cognisant of your workload and careful not to add to it, he is also all too happy to let you take the reins when it comes to bureaucracy. You like to think that you’ve proved yourself to him, but maybe he just respects competency.

That should be it.

But you’re so ashamed to admit that even when Price stops treating you like you’re a hostile target, you can’t stop hoping for his attention. Your mental chants of I don’t need male approval for anything, I don’t need male approval for anything become a daily thing, and sometimes a several-times-a-day thing.

Because the thing is, Price can be a difficult man to please. He’s always so busy that he doesn’t have time to give you the approval that you’re straining for, but when he does it gives you the most shameful warm glow in your belly.

A brief nod or a low grunted ‘Thanks, sweetheart’ is enough to fuel you for days now. Even better is when you’re walking along beside him, briefing him on the latest update from the higher-ups, and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back. Ostensibly, it’s to lead the way and guide you out of the path of the running cadets, but it just toes the line of professionalism and you flounder under the touch.

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. He’s just a coworker, and you need to keep your issues to yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You’re perfectly self-aware enough to admit when you’re in a bad mood.

You start the day tired, and when you check your reflection in the mirror first thing that morning you’re greeted with the sight of a big, fuck-off pimple on your chin. It’s big, it’s throbbing, it practically has its own fucking heartbeat. You barely restrain the urge to pick at it, though you can feel it even when you’re not looking at it.

Your mood doesn’t improve when you get to the small kitchenette by your office and find that someone has used the last of the fancy French Vanilla flavoured coffee that you’ve stocked for yourself. As if that’s not bad enough, your little stash of chocolate digestives you keep for yourself for emergency bad days have disappeared too.

You clench your jaw and continue about your business. Whatever. You can survive without your coffee and chocolate.

Your resolve falters when you see the pile of paperwork on your desk, but whatever. It’s all part of the job. A little chocolate biscuit to nibble on would definitely make your job easier, but you’re a big girl and you’re just going to have to go without.

Then you get the phone call. One that makes you want to bang your head against your desk hard enough to knock yourself unconscious so that you don’t have to deal with this.

It’s time to update the TF141 personnel files. Orders from above, since there’s been significant changes to medical and surgical history in the last couple of months from injuries on missions.

Normally, that’s not such a big deal. It just involves updating their medical and technical files, making sure that nothing major has changed with regards their addresses or other personal information, even though a big portion of it ends up redacted anyway.

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy.

Gaz is happy to come to your office when you text him, and he stands obediently for you as you take his picture. He’s gotten a metal plate fitted in his kneecap from the last time his file has been updated, and he sits and chats easily with you as you go through his information. He’s a sweet guy, and so easy to talk to, and you sigh with the knowledge that no one is going to make your job as simple and leisurely as Gaz just has.

After he leaves, you target Soap. He comes to your office as easily as Gaz, but he’s significantly more difficult to photograph.

He just keeps smiling, no matter how many times you tell him to quit it.

“It’s a personnel file photograph, not a photo for your Instagram.” You sigh, irritated. “I need you to have a blank, neutral expression. It’s like a passport photo, Sergeant. It’s for a government document.”

“Can’t help it, lass.” Soap says easily, that stupid grin not even dimming. “I see a camera, I smile. It’s muscle memory.”

You think that your irritation is only encouraging him, which only worsens your mood. In the end, you don’t get a single usable photograph of him for his file. You have to give up on him, swearing that you’ll come get him to try again later. He leaves your office still chuckling, like he thinks your frustration is cute.

You have tougher targets to tackle.

The difficult part isn’t even taking Ghost’s photo — the difficult part is catching him in the first place.

You spend almost three hours trying to track him down (because he won’t read your texts and your phone calls go unanswered), wobbling all over base in your stupid high heels and somehow missing him by mere moments every time. You arrive in the gym, the mess, the firing range, even the barracks, only to see the man’s enormous broad back disappearing out of the other door as soon as you get there.

You can only assume that Soap had given Ghost the heads up that you were on the prowl with a mission and a camera, because the lieutenant is avoiding you like the goddamn plague.

So yeah. You’re in a real bad fucking mood. But you can’t help it — some days your job is entirely thankless, and your mood drops so low that you feel like going home and crying. But you can’t, and you don’t want to show weakness in front of these military idiots, so all you can do is lock your jaw and go about your business the best you can.

You go back to your office, jaw and fists clenched tight, and collapse at your desk with your head in your hands. You have to take a few deep, slow breaths to try and calm yourself, but then you make the mistake of checking your reflection and your mood sinks lower again when you see that the stupid pimple on your chin has worsened.

God, this is just not your day. You have to get these stupid files updated, or it’ll fall on your head.

Eventually, you reluctantly stand up. There’s no point moping; you have a job to do, whether you like it or not, and your next victim is Captain Price.

You walk to Price’s office swiftly, your feet aching in your stupid heels. You wish you had worn something more sensible, but… well. Even subconsciously, you want to impress.

When you reach his office, you throw the door open and march inside without even bothering to knock.

Price is sitting behind his desk, and his head snaps up as soon as you walk in. His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is. You guess you don’t exactly pose much of a threat, so he sees no use in posturing.

“I need you for a moment.” You bite out, allowing the door to slam shut behind you.

You hear Price sigh, before he leans back and settles into his chair, making himself comfortable. He’s wearing the same dark compression shirt that he usually wears for training exercises or to the gym, and he’s recently groomed his beard down too. He looks good, though it takes a colossal amount of effort for you to not notice, because you have other things you need to focus on right now.

“Hello to you too, love.” He grunts, wiping a hand over his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

You struggle not to react to that, his low voice both soothing and igniting something in your blood. You take a breath, try to calm down. You’re a professional, and you’re not here to embarrass yourself in front of the captain.

“I’m updating personnel files,” You say, and this time it comes out calm and steady, “I need to take a picture of you.”

Price’s gaze lingers on you, his stern brow softening a little. For a moment, you think that maybe this is actually going to be easy. That he’ll just stand up and take the fucking picture, so that the two of you can go back to your jobs and relax for the rest of the day.

But then–

“Jesus, kid.” He sighs, already shaking his head. “I’m up to my eyes right now. Leave it ‘till tomorrow.”

For a moment, you don’t react at all. You just stare at him, letting those dismissive words settle over you. He’s already looking back at his paperwork, mission briefings and maps littering the desk, and you feel so effectively dismissed. You feel small, so silly and stupid standing in front of him in a way that you haven’t felt since you first started working with the task force. You had thought that you were past this, that you had earned some meagre sort of respect from him.

“I need it done today.” You say, and your voice comes out a little hollow to your own ears.

You don’t need male validation. You don’t. But damn, you’ve had a rough day and the fact that your captain isn’t even bothering to look at you makes you want to cry.

Price sighs, and rubs at the crease between his eyes. He looks just as tired as you feel.

“Yeah, well. I don’t have time. Tomorrow.”

You swallow, pursing your lips. He’s so effortlessly dominant, which means that his careless dismissal stings all the more.

“I have to get the whole team done,” You say, struggling to keep your voice firm. “Soap wouldn’t stop smiling for the camera, I couldn’t find Farah anywhere, and Ghost–”

Price gives a sharp, derisive snort. “Forget Ghost.”

You scowl. “I need to do the whole squad.”

“Not Ghost.” Price repeats, this time slower and with more emphasis. “Simon doesn’t do photos.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You’ve been working alongside the task force for a while now, and you’re familiar with Lieutenant Riley’s penchant for covering his face. It’s not something you have a problem with – usually.

“There’s no reason for him to be the exception to personnel photos, Captain.” You say through gritted teeth. “Everyone else is being photographed. The task force might be covert, but Lieutenant Riley is no more–”

“Christ, enough.” Price snaps, his voice a deep boom that has your mouth closing with a click. “The One Four One is my squad, in case you’ve forgotten. I know these lads, and I’m telling you to leave it out.”

You stare, a little taken aback by the harshness in his voice. He hasn’t been this sharp with you in months, not since you had started to prove yourself competent, useful. Now, you can see the warning signs of his bad mood; the circles under his eyes are pronounced, his skin dull in the ugly fluorescent lights of his office. He looks exhausted, his skin lined and dry like he hasn’t been drinking enough water.

You realise, a little too late, that you might have been pushing your luck by insisting on something as silly as personnel file photos. TF 141 had only returned from deployment at the beginning of the week, and Price has no doubt been drowning in reports since.

“This is why I told Laswell you weren’t necessary,” His snarl is entirely unlike him, and he rubs his face furiously, his palms rasping through his beard. “I don’t need someone coming in here and making demands of my squad for– for fucking photographs.”

You inhale shakily through your nose; to your utter horror, you can feel your eyes burn with hot wet tears. It’s stupid – you’ve dealt with far crueller words from far harsher men. The nature of your job often puts you in the firing line for frustration, and when it bubbles over it’s frequently directed at you.

But this… this feels different, for some reason. You’ve been working your ass off to try and earn some recognition from Price, to show him that you’re a valuable asset to the team, and so his sharp, frustrated dismissal of you cuts deeper than it should.

You hate that your eyes are burning like this. You don’t want Price to think of you as useless, or as the silly little girl who was put on the team by the brass who can’t even do her job right. He was just starting to think of you as competent, and it hurts your ego to have to go to him for help with something that you should be more than capable of handling yourself in the first place.

“Right,” You say, and even you’re startled by the sharpness in your tone. “Fine. Forget the file updates, then.”

You step forward, jaw clenched hard, and toss the files you’ve been carrying around all day onto his desk. They hit the surface with a smack that feels uncomfortably loud in the tense silence that’s fallen over the room.

“I’ll tell the higher-ups that you’re handling it.” You continue, your voice coming out brattier than you’d like. “Since obviously I have no idea what I’m doing–”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Price sighs, as though you’re the one being unreasonable. “What I’m saying is, if you’re going to work with the team, you have to understand the team–”

That, you think, might just push you over the edge.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You snap out, and Price’s mouth closes. “D’you think I’m– that I’m some kind of idiot?”

Price blinks. It seems like you’ve managed to take him by surprise, as though your bad mood rivals his just enough to pull him out of his own grumpy form entirely. He opens his mouth again, but you’re not ready to hear him speak again just yet.

“I’m here because Laswell put in a request for me to work with you and your squad, Captain. I’m considered an asset to the teams that I work with,” You’re scowling thunderously, all the tension and frustration that’s been mounting all day spilling over. “And I don’t have to put up with being dismissed and unappreciated when I know that I would be respected in other squads for the work that I do.”

Price raises his hands, a frown creasing his brow. “Kid, that’s not–”

Usually, being called ‘kid’ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that you’re absolutely not interested in examining, but this time it only lights an infuriated fire in your belly.

“Don’t!” You snap, your breath juddering unsteadily. “God, you think I enjoy being treated like an idiot? You think I haven’t had to deal with this from men my whole career? My whole life? Even my father–”

To your abject horror, a lump forms in your throat and you can’t finish that sentence. Your eyes are hot with unshed tears, and you’re pretty sure your lip is trembling.

Price stands, his stern expression slackening into something like uncomfortable surprise as he moves to step around the desk.

“Hey,” He soothes, lifting his hands. “I’m not your father.”

“I know that!” You snap, irate. You’re frustrated with yourself, embarrassed at what you’ve unintentionally given away. “I wouldn’t want you to be!”

Price’s expression flickers, as though he can’t decide quite how to react to you. You’re more than aware that you’re being childish, but you find yourself unable to temper your overreactions. In the face of your tears and your frustrated anger, Price looks like he’s at a loss.

“All I’ve done is work hard, and tried to take the burden off you to make your job a little easier.” You continue before he can interrupt again. “And all I get in return is stress, and my chocolate biscuits eaten, and breakouts, and– and–”

“Kid–”

“The only person who wasn’t an absolute dickhead to me today was Garrick,” You rage, on a roll now. “Everyone else has just been so– and look how bad my skin has gotten from the stress of having to deal with men who want to act like children–”

Price watches you with an expression that is plainly bewildered as you gesture at the stupid pimple that’s been throbbing on your chin all day. You don’t even think you’re making sense, too lost in your frustration and humiliation to be properly aware of what you’re saying.

“Your… skin.” He repeats, a little disbelieving.

You whirl away, agitated. You’re not getting your point across well, and Price must think you’re simply demented.

“Hey,” He says slowly, approaching from around the side of his desk. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t doing a decent job–”

“Whatever.” You mutter, running your hands over your skirt in an attempt to straighten out the creases. “Whatever.”

It’s too little, too late. He’s always been a bit of a hardass, and you’ve always tried so hard to please him, to impress him. But you can’t bear to make a fool of yourself like this any longer.

“I’ll leave the paperwork to you. Update it, or don’t. It doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, turning on your heel and marching towards the door.

“Wait,” Price calls out. His voice is firm, echoing with the grim certainty of a man who is used to being obeyed.

But you’re not one of his soldiers, and his command falls on deaf ears. Your skin is still prickling with humiliation; you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get away from the Captain before.

“Sweetheart, just wait a minute,” Price says, and this time you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “I understand that you’re stressed, that’s normal. Everyone gets stressed in this line of work. But you can’t just go and get your knickers in a twist because some of the lads are bein’ difficult–”

“My knickers are none of your business!” You yell. Truthfully, it’s more of a shriek, high-pitched and unsteady enough to have Price’s eyes widening and darting towards the door as though worried about someone overhearing from the corridor.

“Whoa, okay,” Price says with the air of trying to soothe a spooked horse. “You're right. Your... knickers... ain't my concern. But helping keep this squad running smoothly is, and that can't happen if my admin is on edge."

“Oh, give me a break!” You’re beyond on-edge now, sailing right into fury. “You ignore me most of the time when you're not on deployment, you dismiss me when I’m just trying to do my job, but now you’re telling me you need me to not be on edge?”

You’ve reached the door now, your hand clenched tight around the doorhandle as you take one last moment to turn and look at him. He’s stepping towards you, no doubt with the intent to stop you before you can leave, but you don’t plan on giving him the chance.

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

“Sort the files yourself, or do whatever you want.” You bite out, yanking the door open but pausing in the doorway. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s your squad, you do it.”

Price takes a breath, visibly fighting for patience. Truthfully, you don’t know how he hasn’t lost his head with you already. He was already exhausted and in an obviously bad mood when you had stormed in here, and it couldn’t be more obvious that you’ve just made it worse with all of your frenzied anger and borderline hysteria.

The fact that Price is staying calm and level even in the face of your stress-induced meltdown only makes you feel all the more ridiculous. You wish he would get angry, that he would snap at you like he had when you had first walked in – at least that way you could pretend that you don’t notice the way his stressed scowl had melted into a look of concern as soon as he had seen the tears welling up in your stinging eyes.

“And you don’t have to wear that stupid hat, we’re indoors!” You yell, your voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat before you hurriedly bolt out of the room, escaping into the corridor before he can stop you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

“— just thinking that maybe I’d be better suited with another team, that’s all. I heard Kortac’s liaison is approaching maternity leave—”

“That position is going to be filled internally,” Laswell’s voice is calm over the secure phoneline, a stark contrast to the shaky undertone of stress in your own. “Besides, organising a transfer like that is more trouble than it’s worth.” There’s a pause, then a sigh crackles over the phone. “You still haven’t explained what happened. As far as I can see, you were doing good work there.”

Yeah, you think sourly, because all you see is the paperwork end of it.

“... Internal conflict.” You mutter, playing with the fraying edge of your sweater sleeve.

There’s a long pause, protracted enough that it makes you squirm. You know what she’s thinking – in your line of work, it’s impossible to avoid clashing with some of the big dominant personalities who are used to getting away with whatever they want. But you’ve always been able to handle it, well-versed enough in diplomacy to know when to stand your ground and when to bow out to avoid unnecessary strife.

“Internal conflict.” Laswell repeats, her voice as bland as you’ve ever heard it. “Meaning?”

God, it feels like you’re disappointing your mom or something. You scrub a hand over your face, pacing in the living room of your small apartment.

“I know how it sounds,” You say, “But– they don’t want to work with me. There’s only so much I can do if I’m being met with resistance at every corner–”

“You’ve worked with resistant squads before,” Laswell interrupts. “It’s part of the job.”

“Yes, but…” You start, before trailing off.

She has a point, of course. It is part of the job. There’s no way to professionally explain to your superior that the reason this assignment is so difficult is because you have a mortifying crush on the Captain of the Task Force. It’s making you stupid, making all the stupid bullshit that you’re usually able to look past feel so much worse, especially because all you’ve ever wanted was Price’s approval.

Another sigh. This one, at least, sounds a little more sympathetic.

“Look,” Laswell says, and this time her voice is a little gentler. “I’ve never given you an assignment that I didn’t think you could handle. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it. You’re a capable girl, and the One Four One is far from the most difficult team you’ve had to deal with. There might be some big personalities there, but nothing that you shouldn’t be able to tackle.”

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

“Sort out whatever’s going on with you.” Laswell’s tone leaves no room for argument, her suggestion falling just short of a command. “If whatever issues you’re experiencing continue, I’ll talk to John–”

“No!” You blurt.

God, you can’t think of anything worse. You’ve already made a show of yourself in front of him, the last thing you need is for him to learn that you’ve gone crying to Laswell about the whole thing. You don’t want him to think of you as any more of a useless little girl than he doubtlessly already does.

“No,” You repeat, calmer this time as you clear your throat. “I’ll… sort it. Sorry to bother you with this, ma’am.”

Laswell hums, and you can imagine her eyes narrowing. Judging by the wind whistling in the background of the call, she’s not anywhere near her cushy office. You’ve interrupted her on whatever assignment she’s on, and she’s been kind enough to listen to your silly little complaints for at least fifteen minutes of her valuable time. You feel more ridiculous than ever, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose.

“... Right.” She says. “Fine. Keep me updated on the situation. I want a sitrep by the end of the week, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You understand what’s not being said. Laswell expects you to work your own shit out, but you can hear the concern in her voice when she demands an update. All you can do is agree. Laswell has been by your side throughout your whole career, always having a hand in your assignments and your progression, and she’s always been an advocate for you and what you’re capable of. Now, after this conversation, you feel silly for getting so overwhelmed in the face of what is a relatively minor obstacle.

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

You hum, wish her goodbye and good luck, and hang up the phone.

For a long moment afterwards, you sit in silence in your living room. God, how did all of this spiral into such a mess?

For the last few days, you’ve been avoiding the base entirely. You have a few PTO days built up, and you’ve taken the opportunity to just chill out. It’s the first chance you’ve had to relax properly in months, since you had started working with the task force. The space is good, and it’s needed.

You get out of the headspace of work, and reports, and files and requisitions and debriefs, and instead treat yourself with full body self-care. You exfoliate, you moisturise, you use a hair mask, you take bubble baths. You even catch up on the trashy Netflix romance series that you had put on hold for ages, just waiting for some free time to indulge.

And you almost, almost, forget about why you’re hiding away in your little flat in the first place.

But your third day off creeps around, and you can’t help but feel as though your little bubble of isolation is about to pop. There’s only so much time away from the office that you’re able to swing, and the longer away the more you feel that your position on the team is untenable. No matter how you currently feel about the task force and your place with them, you’re not willing to let your hard work go down the drain just because you’re too cowardly to face them again after your little meltdown.

So, you go back to work after your little break away.

You manage to slink into your office mostly unseen, other than polite hello’s from other admin staff as you slip through the halls. Your office is far from prime real estate when it comes to office space on base – it’s well out of the way, down several corridors that no one ever goes down, and once you get past the main thoroughfares you don’t come across anyone. Even still, it feels a little like you’re doing a walk of shame, but you walk with your head held high before you finally get your office door closed behind you.

To your surprise, your desk is clear. Typically, any slight break away from your desk results in work piling up on it, just waiting for your attention once you get back. You don’t know what to make of the absence of work; you can’t help but wonder, somewhat uncomfortably, if Price had taken your words to heart and dealt with all of the paperwork himself.

You check the drawers of your desk too, just in case, and come up empty yet again.

Well. Okay, then.

You sign into your desktop, waiting for the encryption program to load before accessing your emails. There’s a lot to catch up on, so you spend the next hour or so organising your to-do list in order of urgency.

You get lost in making your little lists, allowing yourself to relax into finding order in your schedule. You barely even look up until there’s a soft knock on your office door, and by the time you’ve raised your head the door has opened and Farah has slipped inside.

“Oh,” You straighten up in surprise. “Commander. What can I do for you?”

It’s a surprise to see her, especially since you hadn’t received any email correspondence. Your office is tucked away down a remote corridor, and soldier’s usually prefer to just email you their requests rather than make the trek down.

Farah offers a polite smile, approaching your desk. “I hear you are taking photographs.”

Your smile slips a little. “Oh. No, actually, I wasn’t–”

“Captain Price said I was to be photographed,” She says, pulling the chair out opposite you and watching you expectantly. “I tried to find you yesterday, and the day before, but I believe you weren't on base.”

You shift, feeling abruptly rather awkward. “Right. I was– Price said that to you?”

“Mhm.” Farah leans back in the chair, her dark eyes alert as they track over your face. “He said that you have been stressed.”

You feel your face heat, mortified. Oh, god. How embarrassing. Has Price given the team a goddamn debrief on your little meltdown? Farah tilts her head as though she knows what you’re thinking, and a tiny smile quirks at the corner of her lips.

“That’s all he said,” She says. “That, and that we should try to make your job a little easier.”

“Oh.” You shift, embarrassed and awkward. “I– Listen, I had a… rough day at work a few days ago, that’s all. I’m not– things are fine.”

Farah just nods as though that’s perfectly convincing, and you find yourself wildly appreciative of her for a moment.

“So, then,” She says, and raises her eyebrows. “The picture?”

You can’t find a way to explain that you had thrown that particular responsibility right back at Price in a fit of pique, but it turns out you don’t have to. Farah produces a slim folder that you hadn’t noticed her holding, and you realise with another flush of embarrassment that it’s her personnel file.

“There wasn’t much to update, just a recent blood work test.” She says as she lays it on your desk.

“That’s… thanks.” You say weakly, taking the file in hand. You flick through it briefly, feeling something in your stomach squirm at the sight of Farah’s details all filled in – Price’s handwriting is unmistakable, the small neat blocky letters standing out amongst the messy scrawl of Farah’s medical report.

You dig out your camera, still a little flustered, and direct Farah to stand against your plain white-painted wall. She’s an easy subject to photograph; she stands perfectly still, unsmiling, and you get the perfect picture after only a couple of attempts.

“Lovely,” You murmur, flicking through the pictures. “Thank you.”

Farah hums. You’re expecting her to dismiss herself, and it takes a moment for you to realise that she’s still lingering. You glance up, blinking, only to find that she’s standing with her lips pursed, obviously considering something.

“The Captain is worried about you.” She says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is everything alright?”

You gape at her like a moron, camera still hanging loosely from your hands. You feel uncomfortably seen; there’s no way that Farah could know what happened, but she’s looking at you with an awful lot of sympathy right now.

“What?” You squeak.

“You fought?” Farah speaks slowly, obviously conscious of overstepping her boundaries. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just…”

“No, that’s okay.” You say hastily. “We didn’t– there was no fighting, exactly.”

She just nods, as if you’re making perfect sense, then smiles politely. She gathers herself up and steps towards the door, and you feel your head spinning as she turns to go.

“You look tired,” Farah murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it. “When Price wants to fix things, let him.”

“Mhm.” You nod quickly without really hearing her. You’re pretty sure you’d agree to anything right now just to escape the knowing intensity of Farah’s gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

After Farah leaves, you feel like you need another day off. It’s all you can do to just sit in your comfortably padded office chair and groan like a moron, because Jesus Christ you’ve made such a mess of things.

It was bad enough when you were pining like an idiot from afar; you’ve had crushes before, and you know that you would have outgrown it eventually. But then you had your stupid little meltdown in front of Price, and revealed more than you intended, and all of a sudden you’ve made yourself into a fool in front of the squad you’ve tried so hard to impress these last few months.

You have to try hard not to spiral. In fact, it’s a challenge not to cave and grab your phone to call Laswell all over again to demand a reassignment right this second. You have a pretty good idea of what she’d say to you in response, but still, the impulse remains.

All you can do is put it from your mind. You potter about, printing Farah’s photograph so you can tuck it neatly into her file with a paperclip, and then decide to start replying to the many emails that have built up in your absence.

The emails vary in tone, from polite enquiries to not-so-polite demands for you to solve some administrative issues, and you sigh quietly as you respond to some of the more snotty messages from upper management. And if you’re a little bit passive aggressive, then you don’t think anyone can blame you.

Your mind has finally quietened, focusing on your work as the buzz of your thoughts settle down, when another knock sounds out from your door. This one is firmer than Farah’s soft knock from earlier, and a little louder, though this time you don’t look up from your screen.

“Come in.” You call, chewing at your lip as you struggle to keep the wording of your email civil.

You’re half-expecting it to be Soap this time around, or maybe one of the recruits hoping to get you to sign off on their leave. So when you finally glance up only to catch sight of the broad, thick-shouldered figure of Captain Price stepping into your office, you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

Email abandoned, you half jolt to your feet before changing your mind mid-movement and attempting to sit back down. It ends up being a humiliating sort of jerky motion, and you pray that he somehow missed it entirely.

“Captain.” You wheeze, your voice coming out a little weak.

Price’s cool blue eyes dart over your face and then down the length of your body, and you become suddenly, mortifyingly aware of the state you’re in. You might not want to admit it, but your wardrobe definitely changes when the Captain isn’t on deployment. Instead of professional trousers, you wear your tight knee-length pencil skirts and fitted shirts, and totter around in your heels. And it’s silly, but… well, you can’t help but notice the way Price’s eyes follow you when you dress like that, and you like his attention on you.

Except today, you hadn’t been planning on running into Price. You hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so you had dressed for comfort — you’re wearing a pair of frumpy grey wool trousers and a super over-sized soft purple sweater that practically swallows you whole. You haven’t even done your hair nicely, and you curse yourself. This has to be the least sexy you’ve looked in months.

“D’you’ve a moment, love?”

His voice seems loud in the quiet of your office, even though realistically you know he’s only speaking in a murmur. In the quiet days you’ve spent alone in your apartment, you’d almost forgotten how lovely and low and gruff his voice is, and you feel your toes curl in your shoes at the sound of it.

It’s not as though you can refuse him, though you’re already embarrassingly aware of the way in which you had stormed off the last time you had seen him.

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly in an attempt to strengthen your voice, but it still comes out high and thready. “Sure.”

As if he had just been waiting for permission, Price steps into the room properly and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, the room feels a little claustrophobic. Price is a big man, broad-shouldered and thickly built with a soft layer of fat cushioning those hard muscles, and you can’t help but feel as though his presence is sucking all of the air out of the room.

But still, he approaches slowly, like you’re some kind of feral cat. Those sharp eyes of his are still tracking over you; he never misses a beat, and you know that he’s taking stock of you in the same way he would for an enemy out on the field. You feel raw, uncomfortably vulnerable. You find yourself wishing wildly and ridiculously that you had worn your usual fitted shirt and pencil skirt, or at least put on a bit of makeup.

“You look rested.” He notes, coming to a slow stop just in front of your desk.

You suddenly curse your last minute choice to stay seated, because now Price’s big body is towering over you in a way that’s honestly making your head swim a little.

“Yeah.” Your voice is a little hoarse. “I guess.”

Price nods, inhales through his nose. A moment passes before he clears his throat and reaches out to place a handful of files on your desk. Despite the plain manila envelopes, you recognise them for what they are almost immediately; the personnel files for 141.

“Finished ‘em off for you while you were gone.” He says gruffly, as though it were no big deal. “Nearly had to nail Soap down to a chair for that damn photo.”

You stare at the files for a long moment, making no move to open them. You find yourself totally, utterly lost for words.

“This is–” You start to say, and truthfully you’re not sure where you’re going with that. You think you’re about to thank him, but he doesn’t really give you the chance to.

“Why don’t we talk?” He says, and motions to the dinky little couch in the corner of the room as if he owns it.

You hesitate a moment, a little peeved about the effortless way he takes command in your own office, but relent and push yourself up from the desk. You don’t make eye contact with Price as you step around him, walking to the corner, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same.

The couch had come with the office, and you don’t even really want to think about how old it is, but you sink down awkwardly onto it anyway. The cushions are worn and threadbare and the springs creak gratingly when you settle your weight onto it, but it’s fine. It does the job.

You’re half-expecting Price to drag the spare chair at your desk over so he can sit opposite you – you’re not expecting him to step right up next to you before he drops down next to you, sighing as his thick thighs spread wide.

You barely bite back a squeak, a little bewildered. You’re not surprised that he’s asked to talk to you. Your behaviour had been wildly inappropriate, and you couldn’t exactly protest if he’s decided to caution you or something.

But you had expected it to be a more formal affair; sitting together on the pathetic, dingy little couch in your office feels entirely too casual for the dressing down you’re sure you’re about to receive.

“Think we’re due a discussion about the other day.” He says, gentler than you had been expecting.

You avoid his eyes, though you can feel his stare boring into the side of your face. Ugh. Time to eat humble pie, you think miserably.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You keep your voice as dispassionate and prim as possible. “My behaviour was unprofessional and entirely unacceptable, and I have no excuse. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

It’s as professional an apology as you can manage, and you chance a quick side glance at him to see his reaction. Your stomach sinks when you see that his brow is creased in a frown, and you panic a little at the realisation that your apology hasn’t helped matters at all.

“Well,” His voice is gruff enough to elicit a little shiver from you. “I wasn’t–” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t looking for an apology.”

That finally makes you turn properly, your eyes darting nervously over his face. He’s already watching you, his blue eyes searing under the brim of his stupid hat. He’s trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him; the salt and pepper bristles of his moustache and chops are neat and shortened. He looks good, though you try not to notice. He doesn’t look as dehydrated or drained as he did a few days ago either, though he still leans into the couch with an air of quiet exhaustion.

“Paperwork has never been my favourite thing in the world,” He confesses with an air of chagrin that’s painfully endearing to you. “Always found it a pain, to be honest. Puts me right out of sorts. I was… short with you, the other day.”

You frown, making yourself small on the couch. “You said I wasn’t necessary.”

Price winces, then reaches up and pulls his boonie hat off his head so that he can drag a hand over his short-cropped hair. Though you had insulted it only the other day, it strikes you as odd to see him with a bare head.

“Shouldn’t have said that.” He mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hat hang from his hands. “You’ve been great these last few months. Don’t know what I’d have done without you, sometimes.”

You’re stupid. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise. You fidget, glance away, and pray he doesn’t notice.

“You know I’m no good at deskwork,” He says, and leans in a little closer like he thinks you’re not listening properly. “Don’t have the head for it. I think you’re the reason the team runs so smoothly in the first place, love.”

The flattery is being laid on a little too thick, but it works. You fall for it entirely, a warm glow settling over you like a blanket, wrapping around you tight and soothing the jagged edges of your anger and anxiety. You hate that you’re so easy to appease, a couple of sweet compliments and assurances falling from your Captain’s lips assuaging all that upset that you’ve been carrying around with you for days now.

But still, part of you isn’t quite willing to let go of the sting, the hurt that his words and his harsh tone had caused.

“Is this you apologising, then?” You ask, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, close-mouthed. “Yeah. It is. Not doin’ too good, am I?”

“You’re doing okay.” You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. “But you can keep going, if you’d like.”

Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You don’t think you’ve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months you’ve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.

“Shouldn’t have snapped at you,” He says slowly. “You do good work. Great work. You shouldn’t feel like you’re not a valued member of the team.”

You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.

“I overreacted,” You mumble reluctantly. “I shouldn’t… your hat isn’t stupid.”

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee.

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you on the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry.

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure.

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch.

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing.

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged.

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs.

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a fine line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return.

“Yes.” You breathe, although you’re not entirely sure that you do know what you’re asking for. All you know is that he’s so close, and he’s staring at you with an expression of such hunger that it’s making you feel weak.

Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.

It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself you��re burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction – everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Price’s full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.

The kiss doesn’t start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Price’s big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming.

Price’s big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but it’s not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.

You swing your leg over Price’s, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but you’re still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.

“I’ve been–” You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. “I’ve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anything–”

Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else.

“Sh, I know,” He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. “I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

And the thing is, you’re a very capable woman. You’ve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that you’re capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Price’s praise sinks into you like warm honey.

“Watching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.” He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. “And those heels– completely impractical for a military base like this.”

You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that you’re currently perched in your Captain’s lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that he’s been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.

Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isn’t that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big man’s lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that you’re valuable, and important.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. “You’re a handful.”

You’d love to argue that – you like to think that you’re perfectly measured and sensible, after all – but you’re already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you can’t stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.

Price’s breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. “Hang on a sec,” He breathes, “Hold on. I’m still– I’m still your Captain–”

You think that it’s meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation you’re in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What you’re doing right now is ridiculous, after all. You’re still on base, you’re in your office, and if the two of you get caught you don’t even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldn’t apply here, since you’re only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.

But if it is a warning, it doesn’t work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily –

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face.

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him.

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs.

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy.

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious.

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering.

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy.

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static.

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent.

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside.

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you.

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him.

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in.

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much.

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today.

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach.

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness.

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest.

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him.

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

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