#Walk through Hell - TASK FORCE X | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dawnwriterimagines · 1 year ago

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Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

and if you'd like to support a fanfic hoe in need...would you Buy me a Coffee?

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #ghost x yn #call of duty x reader #cod angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #simon riley angst x reader

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 4 months ago

Note

Something that has been on my mind.

Taskforce 141 with a smol reader who can sleep anywhere because she just fits into all the small spaces around the base and everyday it's a game between the taskforce on where they find the reader dozing off on the base! 🙈

Hope you have a good day! 😽

The Great Task Force 141 Hide-and-Seek Champion

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Tiny!Reader

Warnings: Mild language, ridiculous amounts of fluff, protective 141, jealousy, cuddling

Author's Note: i tried making this poly. You might be able to see it if you squint so… yeah :)

Summary: You have an uncanny ability to sleep anywhere. Thanks to your small size, you manage to squeeze into places no one expects, turning the base into your personal nap zone. At first, it was a game—finding you before Price lost his patience. But slowly, things change. Now, the boys aren’t just looking for you—they’re making sure you’re safe, warm, and taken care of. And maybe… just maybe… they’re realizing they don’t just want to find you. They want to keep you.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Day 1: The Supply Closet

"Where the hell is Mouse?"

Price’s voice echoed through the barracks, already laced with exasperation. It had only been an hour since they'd last seen you. An hour. And you’d already vanished.

Gaz, standing casually by the doorway, sipped his tea. “Check the supply closet.”

Soap narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell would she be in the—”

Ghost, moving like a man far too used to this, didn’t wait for the debate. He walked straight to the supply closet, gripped the handle, and pulled it open.

There you were.

Curled up on one of the metal shelves, wedged between a stack of MREs and a pile of folded tarps. Your cheek was pressed against a plastic-wrapped ration pack, arms tucked under your head like a damn cat.

Soap stared. “Yer kiddin’.”

Price sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "How the hell do you find this comfortable?"

You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before sleepily muttering, “Warm.”

Gaz snorted. “Comfortable, Mouse?”

A small nod. “Mm.”

Ghost studied you in silence, then turned and walked away.

Soap gawked. "We’re just leaving her here?"

Ghost shrugged. “She’ll wake up eventually.”

Price sighed. He wasn’t paid enough for this.

——

Day 5: The First Shift in the Game

It started small.

The first time Soap found you tucked into an abandoned supply box, he huffed out a laugh, shook his head—and left his jacket over you.

The next time, Gaz found you curled up under a desk and quietly slid his extra hoodie beneath your head.

Price, despite all his grumbling, was the one leaving snacks.

And Ghost? He never woke you. Never disturbed you. But he stood guard.

The others didn’t notice at first. But after a few days, Soap started eyeing him.

"Y’know, mate," he smirked, "fer someone who acts like he don’t care, you sure stand ‘round a lot whenever Tiny’s sleepin’."

Ghost didn’t react. Didn’t even blink.

But the next morning, when you woke up in your favorite nap spot, there was a blanket over you.

——

Day 12: The Wrong Soldier Found You First

This was not part of the game.

Normally, it was them who found you. Normally, you’d wake up to soft teasing, grumbling, or just being carried away in Soap’s arms.

But today?

Today, some random soldier found you first.

It was innocent at first.

The guy had walked into the break room, noticed your small form curled up in the corner, and let out a snicker.

"Christ, does she ever actually work?"

The temperature dropped.

The conversation across the room stopped.

The soldier barely had time to react before four very dangerous men turned to look at him.

Ghost’s voice was low. Cold. "What did you just say?"

Soap moved first, stepping closer—a little too close. "Say it again, mate."

Gaz threw an arm around your shoulders, very pointedly shifting you away from the guy.

And Price? Price just gave the final nail in the coffin.

“She’s with us.”

The soldier left.

Quickly.

——

Day 20: The Final Nap

At this point, Price was done.

"Alright," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "Where the hell is she now?"

Soap groaned. "We've checked the barracks, the mess hall, the damn armory—"

Gaz cut in. "—and all the lockers."

Ghost, silent as ever, merely looked up.

The team followed his gaze.

And there, sticking out of an open vent, were a pair of very familiar boots.

Soap wheezed. “Oh, no bloody way!”

Gaz just stared. “I don’t even wanna know how she got up there.”

Price turned on his heel and walked away.

“I don’t care anymore,” he announced. “If she falls, she falls.”

Ghost crossed his arms. “She’ll come down eventually.”

Soap grinned. “God, I love this game.”

——

Day 27: The End of the Game

They weren’t expecting to find you here.

Ghost stopped in the doorway first.

Soap nearly bumped into him before looking past and freezing.

Gaz, coming up behind them, just blinked. “Well… shit.”

There you were.

Curled up in Ghost’s bed.

And not just curled up—wrapped in his blanket, half-buried under the heavy black comforter, nuzzled into his damn pillow.

Ghost just stared.

Soap broke first. He grinned. “Oh, this is rich.”

Price, arriving last, sighed. "At this point, she’s not hiding anymore. She’s just making a statement."

Ghost finally moved forward, stepping to the edge of the bed. He tugged at the blanket.

Nothing.

You made a soft, grumpy noise, burrowing deeper.

Soap snorted. “Mate, she just claimed yer bed.”

Gaz smirked. "Might as well get in."

Ghost glared.

Price, done with all of them, turned to leave. “You deal with it.”

Ghost exhaled through his nose before sitting on the bed.

The shift in weight made you stir, eyes cracking open.

"...Ghost?"

He hummed.

You blinked sleepily at him before mumbling, "...Warm."

Soap grinned. "Y’know, mate, if ye just let her sleep with ye, we wouldn’t ‘ave to find her all the time."

Ghost stared.

And, to everyone’s surprise…

He laid down.

Didn’t move you. Didn’t wake you. Just shifted so you weren’t alone.

Soap gawked. “No bloody way.”

Gaz smirked. “I think she wins.”

Ghost just closed his eyes.

Fine.

She wins.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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catspittle · 2 years ago

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Well. He'd killed him. He supposed that hadn't been much of a shock; the damn helicopter - Sheba - had went down in flames from enemy fire, Briscoe himself barely getting out unscathed along with the rest of their motley crew. Someone had to die on this mission. The rubble had been on fire, was still on fire even as he stood in front of the Fiddler's now lifeless body, trailing the blackened claws of the gauntlet over a cut throat in a manner that could have only been described as 'gentle'. Stark contrast to the arterial spray coating Crane's arm and front. (Which, honestly, made him want to vomit the more he thought about it. His own injuries aside.)

There was nothing which could have been done for Bowin. Most people don't come back from being impaled through the flank with sheet metal, having their guts spill onto the jungle floor little by little every time they tried to free themselves. Sure, the Fiddler had an odd knack for self-revival, but Weasel would have only tried to eat the man's intestines as they knitted back together. It was a liability. Lawton, unconscious due to the explosion as he currently was, would have chewed any of them out for wasting precious time.

Still, the Brit had been nothing but kind, if naïve. He couldn't just leave the body. Steeling himself, Crane pulled at the limp form in an attempt to wrench it loose of the metal.

Really, what use had Bowin been here? His signature fiddle was nowhere to be found; at least, so said a precautionary look around the crash site. If Waller had wanted mind control she'd have been better off bringing Grieves. And she despised it when her people were killed for no reason. Surely it had to be the functional immortality, then? He'd have more time to ponder later; needed to get the rest of the squad together, get moving before Weasel decided someone's heartbeat was just a tad too slowed down for his liking. The creature was already approaching; the vibration of those footsteps was remarkable, and without looking Crane bared his teeth and let loose a warning growl. Bowin would have to be left until he healed, but Waller would come back for him.

With a shrieking groan, the remnants of Sheba collapsed, and with it the skewered Fiddler. The body fell to the floor with a soft thump, nestling in among the tree roots. Peaceful, almost. Or, at least as peaceful as one could get when in the middle of an active warzone.

Crane sat back, watching the remnants of crimson blood mix with the emerald green of plant life. Disgusting.

#Good. It was getting a little chummy around here - COWORKERS #Walk through Hell - TASK FORCE X #[officially canonizing]#[metahuman Isacc Bowin is canon to me]

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undercoveravenger · 6 months ago

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Room in The Den

Pairing: Hybrid!141 x Male!Reader

A/N: Intended as an early-stages poly relationship, but could also be interpreted as platonic.

Part 2 -> Click here

-----

It’s a bullshit new law that does it. Some asshole lawmakers deciding that just because there’s some small fraction of animal DNA in them that they can’t do their jobs right without “an actual person” watching over them that gets you assigned to the 141.

Sure, joining a team that elite is an honor, but it’s something you’d have wanted by your own merits, not just because someone who’d never seen real combat in their lives thought your new colleagues needed someone fully human to reel them in.

You’ve seen their numbers - they don’t need you and you’re sure as hell they don’t want you encroaching on the bond that their experiences have fostered between them. That’s why you come in expecting the animosity.

You were right. Captain Price is cordial enough, he shakes your hand without crushing it and says he’s eager to work with you but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes and the terseness in his voice tells you he’s just saying it to be polite. He’s run this task force long enough to know how to do his job without you there. His Lieutenant doesn’t even grant you that. The sergeants seem wary and you don't blame them but you know that it’s better to be someone like you that knows their worth than one of the holier-than-thou bureaucrats they’d been considering assigning to this post, so you’ll just have to try to find your place in the team.

-----

Soap is the easiest to win over. He finds you in the gym one night long after everyone else had retired back to their bunks, ripping through reps at the bench press without a spotter. He’s thrown for a minute, used to being the only one up this late since the rest of the squad is mostly diurnal, but he’s content enough to admire the way your compression shirt is darkened with sweat and to watch your muscles shift with each movement. Can feel himself drooling a little at the spice of your scent, heady and masculine and tempting enough to make him want to bite.

He wonders a little, whether you’d be able to keep up with him and he can’t help the steady pace his tail picks up behind him as he decides he’s going to find out.

You’ve got your eyes closed and earbuds in like you’re the only one for miles and yet you still seem to sense him as he drops his bag and moves to stand near you.

“S’dangerous,” he says as you re-rack your weights and pull an earbud out, “To lift without someone to spot you.”

You nod, it’s one of the biggest rules of gym safety for a reason, but you’d never been great with rules. “Never much liked askin’ for help,” you admit after a minute. “Didn’t wanna bother anyone.”

He hums, and you don’t feel judged, just understood, “Well, you’re stuck with the lot o’ us now, whether you like it or not,” he grins, wolfish and happy, and moves to stand at the head of the bench to spot you, “Bother away.” And just like that, you’ve got yourself a new workout buddy.

It’s like he’s your self appointed shadow after that, waiting outside your door every morning with a freshly made protein shake in each hand, one for each of you. He’ll get all whiny about it too if you say no, pointy wolf ears drooping and tail falling still behind him. He looks like he’s about to cry until you finally relent and take yours from him (he perks up right away every time, the little faker). Eventually you learn that it’s easier to just take it from him without the fight and let him ramble on about whatever he’d seen on tiktok the night before as he walks you to your office.

He joins you for meals too, complains about the amount of food on your plate and scoops bites off his own plate to supplement yours despite your protests. His Ma had always told him growin’ up that he had to eat plenty of protein if he wanted to be big and strong and protect his pack, so he’s just tryin’ to do the same for you and doesn’t understand why you feel the need to argue about sharing food.

You’re part of his pack now, and Soap’ll be damned before he neglects one of his packmates, just don’t be surprised if he starts bullying his way into your room at night too - he’s a cuddler.

-----

Gaz warms up to you next, though he always blames the blood loss if someone asks what won him over. He’d joined you and Soap for your evening workouts a few times, and grinned at each other when you passed in the halls, but it’s not until the morning after a brutal op that he really starts to see you as part of the team.

It’s early. Barely three-thirty in the morning when the heli touches down and maybe only four when the squad tumbles through the doors but you’re right there with the rest of them. Price is already headed down to the administrative wing for a debrief and Ghost has a snoring Soap over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes on his way to the barracks, and then there’s just the two of you.

You’ve got one of Gaz’s arms over your shoulder and an arm heavy around his waist, tucked snug under his bleeding wing, taking most of his weight as you help him limp through the halls. You hang a left instead of the right that would lead to the infirmary, instead guiding him into your office. You sweep whatever paperwork had been on your desk aside, and help him up to sit, legs hanging off one side of your desk and wings cascading over the other.

You’re quick to shrug off the outer layer of your tactical gear and cast it aside, pulling out a sizable med kit from under your desk and settling on your knees in front of him. You ask him if it’s okay, before you help ease his cargo pants down enough to get to the wound on his thigh and he finds himself taken aback since their usual medic would just muscle them off or cut them away to get at it. You wait until he nods to start tugging at the fabric, fingers careful and intent as you work the material free from the torn flesh.

He watches as your gaze flickers over the wound and you reach for what you need without even looking. He’s been told his eyes are intense before, it’s normal for bird of prey hybrids, perhaps especially so for golden eagle hybrids like him, but he’s never quite understood the way people describe being pinned in place by his gaze until now.

You work fast, sterilizing, stitching, and then bandaging his wound with a speed that would rival the military doctors in the infirmary, and the stitches seem more sturdy than he can remember his last ones being.

Once you’re satisfied with his leg, you stand and move behind him to get a better look at his wing. He'd taken a bullet to it, right through the meat of the muscle, and he knew he’d be grounded a long while until it healed. You hesitated then, unsure if he’d be okay with you touching such a personal area as his wings.

Gaz swallows hard, trying to think of the last time someone other than himself had handled his wings, and nudges it back into your hands. You’re remarkably gentle, he thinks, as your fingers card delicately through rich caramel feathers until you’re able to uncover the bullet hole. You use a pair of tweezers, to make sure that there are no lingering bits of shrapnel, and a tiny set of scissors to trim back any of the soft downy feathers that could catch in the wound as it heals.

He’s started churring by the time you’re done, a sort of contented trill from the feeling of someone else preening his wings, despite the lingering pain from the injuries. His golden eyes snap back to focus as you nudge a water bottle and granola bar into his hands with a muttered apology that it was all you had on hand, and he’s still plenty happy because you’re trying to be part of his flock by preening him and providing for him. He churs the whole while as you guide him back to his room and help him into bed.

Gaz quickly becomes a regular participant of you and Soap’s late night gym sessions and joins you for mealtimes once in a while after that night.

-----

Truthfully, you still don’t know what convinced Ghost you were worth knowing, but he supposes that’s because you hadn’t known he was there. He’d been on his way to deliver a mission report from Price to one of the other admin when one of his rounded ears caught the sound of your raised voice. His curiosity drew him to the door, cracked just enough that he was able to see you stood across a table from a trio of generals, arms crossed and back straight.

“I appreciate your congratulations,” you growled, and Ghost was taken aback by the ferocity in your voice. He’d never heard you speak like that before, not even in the field. “But I am not the one who should be hearing it.”

His ears prick forward, tugging against the thick fabric of his mask as he listened closer, intrigued.

“With all due respect, Major, task force 141-” one of the pencil pushers started.

“No,” you interrupted, hands coming down hard on the desk between you and the other officers, “They are due the commendations. They are the ones who built this team from the ground up. Sure, there have been successful missions since my joining, but those are not only my achievements. If you want to offer a public congratulations on a successful operation, it will be to my entire team, not just the picture you think would be easiest to publish.”

With that, you turn from the board of your superior officers and head for the door, ignoring their protests, and Ghost has to scramble back in order to avoid being hit with the door.

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” you say as you see him, moving out of his way. “Didn’t see you there,” and for once that doesn’t sound like some slight against his panther genetics, just a plain statement - he’d been behind the door and you hadn’t meant to nearly clip him with it. You clap him on the shoulder and head off down the hall back toward your office and Ghost is tempted to drop the file where he stands to follow you, one simple interaction you hadn’t meant for him to see enough to convince him there was far more to you than he’d thought.

You weren’t just some babysitter added to their little family to observe them like they were no more than wild animals - you actually saw their worth and were willing to fight for it?

An amused little huff escapes him and Ghost forces his attention back to the task at hand, spotted tail lashing smoothly behind him as he turns and continues on his way, sharp claws digging puncture wounds into the folder he’d been sent to deliver and your words ringing in his mind.

----

Price was the last to come around to you being a part of their little family, though he’d never been outright hostile the way Ghost had at first. He’d done his best to be professional with you, complying with the needed paperwork and taking your insights on each operation under consideration, though he never deliberately sought you out.

That didn’t mean he could avoid you when the team had a mission though, especially not now with the five of you piled into a much-too-small cabin in the mountains near where intel suggested one of Makarov’s bases were. Laswell had just radioed in to let Price know there was a snowstorm incoming so evac might be delayed and to expect to hunker down at least another two nights.

With only two bedrooms and a total of three small beds between them, you’d volunteered to take up roost on the lumpy couch in the living room so he’s not surprised to see you there, so much as he is by your company. You’re sprawled out in about the middle of the couch with Gaz tucked comfortably against your side, your arm around his shoulder and one of his wings curling around the both of you. As Gaz’s wing shifts, Price notices Soap curled against your legs, snoring away, but he freezes as he sees Ghost.

Everyone on the team has gone through hell, but Price knows Ghost has dealt with more than his share. Nightmares aren’t uncommon for any of them, but for Ghost a decent night’s sleep was an incredible rarity. That’s why he’s so startled to see Ghost stretched comfortably along the rest of the couch with his head on your lap and his face nuzzled into your stomach, skull mask gone in favor of his more casual balaclava, and his breathing deep and even.

A pleased little huff escapes Price, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight of his three favorite people curled up together happy and comfortable. And if you were part of that? Well, there was plenty of room for one more in that old bear’s heart.

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sleep-0-deprived · 5 months ago

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Sirens touch~! (Kyle Garrick x male siren reader) 𓊝

WC:.2.1K

Tags: pwlp, anal sex, sex on a boat, monster x human, pheromones used as drugs, fish anatomy mentioned, bottom male reader, seduction themes, siren songs, handjobs, neck biting, blood mentioned 𓇼

A/N: this one is for @creepy141dollie hope Y’ like it, forgive if M’ descriptions of sirens are inaccurate, this was jus my thought process <33

Taglist: @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @yyuinaa @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives @littlelilithsposts

𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝𓆟𓆝

The air was fogged over and cold- rigidly so, you could almost taste the salt in the air when you breathed in the mist. Kyle wasn’t happy about this in the slightest, the moment price caught wind of makarov supposedly hiding somewhere across the sea, he had the whole task force on a ship on the ocean waters, that included Gaz too. Gaz walked around on the deck, he’d peek his head over the rails and stare into the nearly black abyss of water— god he could only imagine how cold that water must’ve been.

His eyes slowly widen when he sees something beneath the sheets of liquid, it was probably just a dumb fish swimming around. Garrick wasn’t made for the waters nor did he like them, sea sick was the only thing he ever got from it— and was that a person laying on that rock?…oh god the sea must be getting to him.

“I don’t see how sailors manage”

Gaz diverts his gaze to the passing soap, walking by and across the ship watching the other end- like what he was supposed to be doing but something felt off he couldn’t explain it, it all felt weird like bugs churning around in his stomach. He’d just cut it down to the waves giving him motion sickness.

“Are you gonna make it there gaz?”

He nearly jumps when ghost sneaks up on him standing behind him with his mask on letting his gaze pierce through the other male.

“You shouldn’t be so damn quiet- you’re gonna give someone a heart attack these days”

“Relax, I was just gonna ask if ye wanted to swap tasks- ye go to the lower deck N’ keep an eye out”

The man’s British accent creeping through his words only making Gaz sigh and nod, making his way down to the empty deck, his body felt a reaction the closer he got to the waters almost like something compelling him forwards. When the rock he had seen earlier came into view he could’ve sworn he saw a man with H/C hair laying there with a deep blue webbed ear. Before he knew it he felt his chest ache at that sight- why did he feel so much need over a man that probably was a figment of his lonesome imagination.

He leans against the rails, blinking once and frowning when he sees nothing on the rock, he almost feels sadness as the disappearance but before he can mourns it a hand is placed up on the ship from the loading area a few feet from him.

“Who’s there?!”

His voice rings empty in the fog, you slip your way up onto the deck while laying sprawled with a little grin. Tilting your head over almost like a curious cat— you weren’t used to not having your tail but you’d make having legs work. Gaz was practically lovestruck standing in his military gear and yet he felt just as defenseless as a common man before a gun.

“Aren’t you just a mean one?”

Your voice was angelic and he knew that you knew that, the way you slithered up on the deck like some serpent ready for its mean had him in a state of pure lust looking at you— Gaz was a weak man and the years of solitude without touch only made him weaker. Your prime prey, you liked a sweet man who was good at heart but had desperation— you could feed off the lust in his eyes alone.

Gaz started approaching you almost in a trance but you haven’t even used your song on him yet, this was pure free will.

“What the hell are you— a damn talking fish?”

“I’m not a damn fish— I’ll have you know I’m a siren”

You hiss your words at him growing irritated with it all, reaching your hand out to grasp hold of the man and pull him down with you having him beneath you on the deck. your body nude and cold from the see, your cock pressed flat down on your thighs while you click your tongue slowly tracing your cold fingers over his skin, humming your own siren song.

“Fuck, what the hell are you doing”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me, everyone wants me.”

Your hands grip his shoulders speaking statements not questions, your cock was stiffening up when his bulge pressed to your plush cheeks almost giving it a friendly greeting making you push back down against his clothed member, Gaz’s hands roam down grabbing your hips instinctively gripping at the flesh with vigor while he stares up at you in a glossy eyed trance watching how your hands slid off his shoulder down his vest and to his cargo pants, pulling them down with a thud when you undo his tack belt letting it fall on the deck.

Your nails were sharp and pointed leaving chills on his thighs when your nails graze over the tip of his cock having it all wet and coated in pre cum when you finally get it out of his boxers. Your eyes narrow slightly glowing under the dim fog of the late noon sky, the ship rocking back and forth against the waves having Gaz feeling completely under your spell when you hum against his ear and press your lips to the side of his neck.

“God you’re…”

He wanted to say so many things in that moment but his lips quivered and stopped, all men acted that way— you couldn’t count the number of sailors who uttered those exact words to you. Gaz felt different you didn’t want to lure him into a seductive demise, you actually wanted him all for yourself.

“I already knoww~”

you hush him silently with your lips pressed to his Adam’s apple rubbing your sharp teeth to the flesh feeling tempted to just take a bite out of him. Your hand plays with his cock stroking the base and rubbing your thumb flush against the under side of his tip, right where you knew it was most sensitive.

“O-h fuck you’re good at this”

Kyle’s moan comes out strangled like a half laugh when he takes a gulp for the first time in his military years feeling nervous by something that looks so frail, your skin practically glowed sticky from the salt in the sea having your damp body in his lap feeing your bare ass on his thighs making his half lidded eyes just stare at it, he only looks away when he feels the sharp pain in his neck— you just bit him?

“Mhm, you just taste good enough to eat”

“Oh fuuck”

His groan just make you smile having his blood over your teeth like a fresh candy coating making your slit pupils dilate, licking up the blood off his neck leaving him with the mark of a siren when you aim his cock between your wet cheeks, grinning at his expression when his eyes clamp shut from the cold feel of your skin pressing to his manhood. You rock your hips back and forth letting go of his cock and reaching up to his jaw and gripping it tight while you lay hunched over him pressing your bitter and blue lips to his mouth kissing him- making him taste his blood off your tongue while he lays on his back on the deck.

“You want this so bad don’t you?”

“…yes…”

He mumbles mindlessly under you just staring you blankly in the eyes, his lips sloppily responding to yours with your cock standing barely stiff leaning a small pearl of pre cum with your blue webbed ears looking almost like a fin when they flick back and forth in satisfaction. His cock head rubbing between your cheeks and all up and down your crack rubbing against your twitchy ring of muscles.

“Tell me you want inside me- tell me now”

“…I want you, I wanna be inside you so bad”

Your mouth nibbles at his neck some more littering it in red marks having blood smears on his skin while his hips buck up under you making you let go of his jaw when he hisses from how your nails dug into his skin. Gaz presses into you slowly pushing his way inside of your vice, being a siren producing pheromones and natural lubricant around your rim, your holes weee designed to take— you were a being of lust- a Adonis of sex in every way but the name.

“Fuckin, please-“

If it wasn’t for how desperate Gaz was in this moment he may have passed out of humiliation, he hated the way his voice cracked when he begged for you sitting desperate with his cock half inside you prodding its way into the bunny tavern trying to spread and spear you open on his dick, you sit in his lap having your mouth latched on his feeling his moans muffled by your tongue when you bite on his bottom lip leaving little drops of blood mixing into the shared spit.

“Think you may be the biggest man I’ve taken in a very long time sailor”

You lift your hips up and slowly lower them back down on him while you let your hand find its way to his shoulders digging your nails through his gear and clawing a hole in the back of his shirt leaving marks on his rich skin. Your rim milks out the pre cum from his mushroomed head having his hands trembling on your hips while he pushes his spit down your throat.

“I’m not a damn sailor— I’m a captain”

His words come out strangled beneath you when he pulls his lips, tearing them away only to gasp for air. Your nails dig harder letting out soft moans when his cock rubs your prostate just right making you feel warm shrills up your spine having you feeling in a state of euphoria when you ride the man.

Your eyes creep back and you grow slicker around his cock taking it with ease, Gaz lets out heaved gasps beneath you. Not having fucked anything in a few solid years due to his job, his orgasm is on edge but he does his best to hold back not wanting to come too quick but boy if your insides weren’t practically begging it out of him right now.

“Stop or I’ll—“

Before he can even finish his sentence your hand creeps up off his back and over his mouth hushing his groans when you feel his cock start pulsing inside you reaching his high and flooding your insides with his semen leaving a warm feeling inside your ice cold body.

“Now you’re gonna be good and help me get off right?”

“Y-yes ofcourse”

He nods his head when you hum your song to him not even giving him time to come down from his orgasm when you remove your hand off his mouth and reach to the hand off your hips when you guid it down to your hardened cock, letting out a hiss when he touches the base. Gaz slowly starts stroking your cock and giving it a firm touches under your tip.

He starts stroking your cock a little faster gripping the base with your cock leaking a mess in his palm having you instinctively pushing your hips back down on his cock with the semen inside

“I’m getting close”

Gaz starts stroking your cock faster making you arch your back getting closer to edge with his hand snaking off your hips to your ass giving it a squeeze in time with his strokes. Pre cum starts oozing drink you all down your shaft making a mess when your voice cracks and your orgasm rushes over you, you grip his shoulders tight with your

“Oh fuck—“

“What is it fishy? You’re actin like this is your first orgasm”

You sneer down at him frowning when he says that, ropes of thin liquid shoots from your tip leaving stains on his gear. Your chest raises and falls rapidly practically glowing with your eyes rolling forwards to look down at him under you, sitting on top of him on the ship, you slowly raise up off of Gaz, semen starts oozing out of you and onto the ships deck, your rim twitches all puffy.

Before Garrick could even say anything to you, you were gone. The water flashed and it was like you were an imagination? Your figure lurked under the water then disappeared into the fog, sirens were never known to stick to one prey forever.

“Gaz? Mate what’re you doin?!”

There stood a flabbergasted soap, his mouth agape standing next to price with their eyes focused on a ruin captain kyle Garrick ‘Gaz’ laying covered in come with his pants around his ankles laying on his back, his cock limp and his eyes lidded clearly worn out.

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shyoko · 2 months ago

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✧Dance for Me, Break for Me ✦༺⊹

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. (English is not my first language.)

✦ 0.6K words * Masterlist˚ Taglist✧ Requests “Open”₊‧ ✦𓂃

dom!Ni-ki x fem!reader ⚠️ cw: NSFW / +18, rough sex, semi-public (dance studio), light choking, spanking, degradation + praise, dirty talk, mirror sex, overstimulation, light bruising, slight crying, multiple orgasms, creampie. Minors DNI. Read responsibly.

The bass thumped against the studio walls, matching the rhythm Ni-ki shattered with every movement. He was a hurricane: precise, powerful, fucking sexy as hell. And you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

You tried to pretend you were focused on your task, phone in hand, but Ni-ki noticed. He saw you. Every sharp turn, every snap of his hips, every bead of sweat trailing down his neck... it was all for you.

Sometimes, his eyes drifted away from the mirrors just to lock onto you. Cold, dark, insatiable. You felt his gaze burning your skin, a silent threat promising things you knew you shouldn’t want.

When practice ended, the air was thick with tension. Everyone was laughing, joking... but Ni-ki only walked straight towards you, his shoulders taut, unable to hide the tension. He stopped right in front of you, jaw clenched. "Stay," he said — low, firm, leaving no room for refusal.

Ni-ki didn’t even wait for your answer. He knew you would obey. One by one, the others filed out, leaving the studio empty. The silence that remained was heavier than any music.

And then, without warning, Ni-ki moved. He grabbed your wrist and pinned you against the mirror, his body pressing against yours with raw strength.

"Had fun drooling over me?" he whispered against your ear, his voice a dangerous threat. His hand slid up to your throat, squeezing lightly, while his other hand slipped under your skirt.

"Did you get wet just watching me?" he laughed darkly.

Before you could answer, he spun you around, pressing you back against the mirror. With delicious brutality, he hiked your skirt up, leaving your ass bare. The slap that followed was swift, intense, the sound cracking against the glass.

"Count."

"One..." you gasped, the sweet sting blooming across your skin. Another slap, this time tearing a moan from your lips.

"Two..."

Ni-ki freed his cock, yanking his pants down just enough. Without warning, he thrust into you in a single brutal stroke, making you choke on a desperate moan against the mirror. He pounded into you with wild, relentless rhythm, his hips slamming against your ass.

His hand returned to your throat, tightening his grip as he moved. The sensation was addictive — the mix of light choking and overwhelming pleasure making you see stars.

"Look at yourself," he growled. He forced your eyes open, making you stare at the reflection: flushed, soaked, completely at his mercy.

Every thrust shook your body, your breasts bouncing against the fogged glass, your mouth open in silent cries. Ni-ki panted against your ear, dirty words falling from his lips between thrusts:

"You're mine. Only mine."

"This cock's the only thing you'll ever want inside you, understand?"

"Look at you... so fucking beautiful breaking on my cock."

Suddenly, he let go of your throat, only to lean down and lick the curve of your sweaty neck, his hot tongue dragging across your sensitive skin. Without slowing down, his hand slipped between your thighs, fingers finding your clit. He rubbed you with filthy, relentless circles.

You didn’t last long. You screamed his name, your orgasm tearing through you in violent waves, your legs trembling on the brink of collapse.

But Ni-ki didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, riding you through your overstimulation, your body trembling, vulnerable, wrecked. Every time you thought you might fall, he held you tighter, pinned you harder, fucked you deeper.

Finally, he let out a rough growl and spilled inside you, his hips slamming into you with one last brutal thrust. He stayed there for a moment, forehead resting against your back, panting heavily.

Slowly, he released you, his hand sliding from your neck to your waist, stroking you with dangerous tenderness. His voice was a dark, ragged whisper full of filthy promises:

"This isn't over. I'm not stopping until you can’t walk tomorrow."

And you knew he meant every word.

✦A/n: Hii, I really hope you liked it. I love you very much. MWAH!

✦Taglist : @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin @han-to-my-minho @douqhnxtss @nuggets4lifers

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soapysoapysoapysoapy · 29 days ago

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Tactical Porn | Soap x TF141!Reader

The pub wasn’t packed, but it buzzed with the low thrum of end-of-mission tension finally loosening its grip. You were leaned against the corner of the booth, half a drink too deep, cheeks a little warm, boots scuffed and muddy under the table. Ghost sat across from you nursing a dark ale, Price was at the bar charming the poor bartender for the fourth time that night, and Gaz was telling a story with too many hand gestures and not enough point.

And then—he walked in.

Soap.

Freshly showered, but still wearing his tactical pants, boots laced up tight, black tee stretched across his chest like it was trying to hang on for dear life. Dog tags clinked softly against his chest as he slung his bag down, arm flexing with the movement.

He didn’t notice you watching. Not yet. He was talking to someone from another squad, smiling wide, that same damn smile he used after blowing something up and getting away with it.

You stared. Shamelessly.

“I mean… Jesus Christ,” you mumbled.

Gaz leaned a little closer. “What’s that?”

You blinked, realizing you’d said it out loud. But it was too late now—your drunk mouth was running. Full speed.

“I just don’t get how he exists, you know? Like—how is that man real? Look at his arms. His arms, Gaz.”

Ghost raised a brow, amused. “You alright there, sunshine?”

You waved your hand dismissively, laughing. “I’m just saying! It’s criminal. He’s got that... older guy confidence. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing and how you like it—probably doesn’t even have to try.”

Gaz nearly choked on his drink. “Bloody hell, you’re in deep.”

You nodded solemnly. “You ever seen him disarm a bomb? It’s porn. Tactical porn.”

“I’m regretting this conversation,” Ghost muttered, though his eyes were definitely smiling under that mask.

And then, as if summoned by the sheer weight of your thirst, Soap turned. Eyes scanned the room and locked right on you. His smile curled into something sharper, something knowing. He raised a brow.

You went very still.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “He definitely heard me.”

Gaz snorted. “He didn’t have to. You’re practically drooling.”

Soap started toward your table, slow and loose, and you suddenly remembered how to panic.

“I hate everyone here,” you muttered under your breath.

“You love it,” Ghost replied.

Soap reached the table, gaze flicking from Gaz to Ghost, and then settling on you. He leaned down, bracing one hand on the back of your seat, voice low and amused.

“Somethin’ you wanted to say to me, bonnie?”

Your mouth went dry. Heat crept up your neck.

“I—uh… I like your shirt?”

Smooth. Nailed it.

He just smirked, voice like velvet and mischief. “That right? Thought I heard something about my arms.”

You buried your face in your hands as the guys lost it around you. Ghost let out an unholy wheeze. Gaz was doubled over.

Soap leaned in even closer, lips brushing your ear. “Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll give you somethin’ better to look at later.”

He pulled away with a wink and walked off, leaving you red-faced and speechless, the table roaring with laughter.

You were never drinking around the Task Force again.

The barracks were quiet. Most of the squad was still out drinking, laughing off adrenaline and bruises. But you had ducked out early—blaming your headache, or maybe your pride.

You’d hoped he’d forget. You’d prayed he hadn’t heard you go on and on about his arms, his older-guy confidence, the way he disarms bombs like he’s undressing someone. But Soap wasn’t the type to let something like that slide.

You were halfway through changing—jacket off, shirt tugged up over your ribs—when you heard the door creak open.

You froze.

"Didn’t mean to interrupt,” came that familiar voice—low, lilting, amused.

You yanked your shirt back down and turned, heart hammering. Soap leaned in the doorway, one shoulder against the frame, hands in his pockets, that smirk already locked and loaded.

“Johnny—”

He stepped inside, closed the door behind him. “No need to get shy now, bonnie. You had plenty to say earlier.”

You crossed your arms, trying to fight the heat crawling up your throat. “I was drunk.”

He tilted his head. “Drunk enough to say the truth.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Soap took a slow step forward, then another, until he was right in front of you. His eyes dropped, dragging over your face, your parted lips, the rise and fall of your chest.

“You said I look like I know exactly how you like it,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean it.”

He grinned. “Aye, but you do wonder.”

You opened your mouth to snap back—deny it, laugh it off, something—but he leaned down and kissed you. It wasn’t soft. It was precise. Confident. Just like you imagined. His hand found your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he angled your head and deepened the kiss until your knees gave just a little.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, breath uneven.

“I was gonna wait,” he said quietly. “Figure you might get nervous. Might think I’m just older and lookin’ for fun.”

You blinked up at him. “Aren’t you?”

His grin turned dangerous. “No. I’ve had fun. What I want now’s a little more than that.”

Your heart flipped, fast and stupid.

He stepped back, letting you breathe, eyes dragging down your frame again—just long enough to make your skin burn.

“Come find me when you stop pretending you don’t want it,” he said, heading for the door. “And next time, love, don’t whisper it in a pub. Say it to me.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

And you just stood there—flushed, breathless, and already aching to chase him down.

#cod #cod fanfic #cod imagine #cod modern warfare #soap cod #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish

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rafecameronssl4t · 1 year ago

Note

Could u do maybe like a ballerina x rafe type fic where she’s breaking in her pointe shoes and rafe is just so confused why she’s breaking them 😂😂 I love all ur fics 😭

Pointe Shoes || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

MASTERLIST

Hearing the loud banging coming from the balcony, Rafe makes his way up the stairs. “What’s going on?” he calls out as he rounds the corner, his brows furrowed in concern.

As he steps onto the balcony, he stops in his tracks, puzzled by the sight before him. There you are, sitting cross-legged on the ground, a pointe shoe in hand, vigorously whacking it against the floor. The repetitive thud echoes through the space.

“What are you doing?” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief as he walks over to the sofa and sits down, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

You look up at him with a soft smile, pausing your task for a moment. “I’m just breaking in my shoes,” you explain, your tone light and casual. You then proceed to snap the shank of the shoe with a satisfying crack.

Rafe’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops in shock. “Why the hell are you breaking your shoes? They cost a fucking fortune!” he exclaims, staring at you as if you’ve lost your mind.

You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, the sound bubbling up despite his clear disbelief. “It’s part of the process,” you say, still chuckling. “New pointe shoes are too stiff to dance in comfortably, so we have to break them in to make them fit just right.”

Rafe shakes his head again, still trying to wrap his mind around the concept. “I had no idea,” he mutters, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite himself. “Wanna help me with the other one?” You smile at him as you pass him your other pointe shoe.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Rafe shrugs, moving to sit beside you. “So do I just, whack it on the floor?” he asks, his tone laced with confusion. You chuckle, nodding. “Pretty much.” Rafe picks up a pointe shoe and gives it a tentative tap on the floor. You watch as he gauges the effect, then, gaining confidence, he starts hammering it against the ground with increasing force. Your eyes widen in shock as the shoe takes a serious beating.

“Okay, okay—that’ll do,” you say, your nervous chuckle betraying your concern. He stops and looks at you, a triumphant smile on his face. “Got it,” he says with a grin. “This is kind of fun.”

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dollerin · 2 months ago

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VOICE OF AN 𝓐𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳 stack moore.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝑳𝐔𝐃𝐄 ─── you’ve got one hell of a talent, everyone knows that except for the notorious, stack. but he may be the one to get you your very first gig when he finds out. he says you shouldn’t let your gift go to waste, you’ve got the voice of an angel.

elias ‘stack’ moore x f. reader romance strangers to lovers physical touch 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝗐𝖼. 𝟣.𝟩𝗄 ─── 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒

part 2 available here

The old restaurant smelled of tobacco smoke and the pork chops that were being made in the kitchen, the aged wood scent lingering with it. It was crowded, per usual, but you didn’t mind—it meant you and your mother were getting business.

Fridays were usually the busiest anyway, people getting off of work, needing a good meal and a drink to wash down their rough week. Some work all day in the field and want to run away from the trouble of the other folks out to get them. And then there were others who just wanted to dance.

No matter where they were from, you served them anyway, a smile always on your face. Though working and serving for your mama wasn’t ideal, it was a start—a start to your dreams. And you were okay with that.

You weaved through the tables and small crowds of dancing elders, placing plates in front of people and collecting the empty ones. This was nothing new to you, so it came like second nature.

The music in your mama’s joint wasn’t slow, but it wasn’t fast, either. It was the perfect tempo for people to groove along and for you to begin humming to yourself as you cleaned off empty tables. The band that played were a few good family friends that agreed to play there every night, no pay required. Every once in a while, you join them. Sometimes they played popular blues songs, other times they played the songs that you wrote yourself, and knew all the lyrics to. Now, of course, the audience didn’t know the songs but they didn’t have to. Your voice was what captivated them.

By now, it was a regular thing for someone to come up to you and request a song—or just ask you to go on stage so they could hear you. All you could ever do was nod your head and bashfully agree as you walked up.

But tonight, it didn't happen. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe it was because your mama needed some extra help, with the amount of folks that piled into her restaurant. Your cousin—the only chef that she had at the moment, was sick so she was forced to do all the cooking by herself, instead of helping you serve.

As you continued to hum to yourself, the music still echoing throughout the restaurant, the bell on the door jingled. Your back was turned, but you heard footsteps as another customer came in. They didn’t ask to be seated, though.

You glanced behind you to see that they’d taken a seat at the bar, but then you did a double take once you saw who it was.

Some people whispered to each other, but they didn’t dare make eye contact with the person.

Stack.

One of the famous Delta twins. Dressed in that red hat that sat low, hiding his eyes a bit.

You turned back to the task at hand, not wanting your staring to be too obvious—though it probably already was. You could hear him shuffling in his seat at the bar, the sound of his lighter flicking and him inhaling a bit.

You continued working as if he weren’t there, humming along to the music. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes boring into the back of your head.

Soon, the music ended on the stage, leading everyone to applaud before the band started their next song. Some of them walked off the stage, taking a bathroom break or a sip of water. You continued humming to yourself, even as the music was gone.

“Y/N! Hey!” Someone called out to you.

Your head popped up, seeing one of the band members headed right toward you.

“Hey,” you smiled.

“You wanna c’mon for our next number? It’s your favorite,” he said.

“What? ‘Down Hearted Blues’?” You asked, quirking your eyebrow.

The man chuckled, “You know it.”

You thought about it for a moment, his constant ‘c’mon’ had made you want to go up there and grab that microphone. But you weren’t so sure if you’d do that tonight.

“Oh, I don’t know, sir—“

“Go on up there! You know everybody love yo’ voice!”

You shook your head, hiding the bashfulness on your face.

He turned around to the rest of the restaurant, raising his voice for everyone to hear, “Aye, y’all, don’t y’all love lil’ Y/N’s voice? Don’t ya’ love when she sing for us?”

They all paused what they were doing to agree, the area erupting with applause and cheers. That didn’t make your case any better, if you were one of them white folks, you would’ve looked like a tomato by now.

Your smile grew as the people’s focus was now on you, encouraging you to head up on that stage.

“C’mon, Y/N, sing for us!”

“I wanna hear some good ol’ blues tonight!”

“Girl, if you don’t get up there—!”

After a moment of them all trying to persuade you at once, you drop the cleaning towel on the table you were standing at. You walked through the crowd again, walking toward the stage with loud cheers behind you.

The smile on your face never dropped, even as you got to the center of the wooden platform.

Stack was tucked into the back of the restaurant still, remaining in his seat at the bar. He took another drag of his cigarette, waiting to see what all the ruckus was about—what the big deal was about one voice.

People took their places at their tables and some stood around as the instrumental of your favorite song began to play. You took in a deep breath, closing your eyes as the lyrics began to flow out of you.

Were there folks watching you all around the restaurant? Yes.

But you could feel a certain pair glued to you. Like they couldn’t move. Like they didn’t want to move.

You sang out, your voice drifting throughout the restaurant like a harp played in the moonlight. You clutched your chest, reciting the lyrics as if you had lived by them.

Stack looked up at the platform from beneath his hat, the cigarette sitting between his plump lips. They curled up at the corners, a smirk playing on his face as he listened to you. He could’ve sworn he died and came back when he heard, nodding his head slowly in approval and enjoyment.

You twirled to the side of the stage, your long work dress flowing with you as you fell in love with the music all over again. People not only loved you for your voice, but for your performance. How you let the chords flow through your veins. The music was you.

As the band began to reach the end of the song, you smiled out to your little crowd, seeing all them send cheers your way.

You made your way off of the stage, hugging some of them, others kissing you on the cheek.

“Alright, y’all, I gotta get back to work now,” you laughed, cheeks burning from your wide grin.

They all let you get back to your duties, still cheering you on from afar, but not wanting to hear any fuss from your Mama.

You walked back to the table you were at before, grabbing the dirty towel to place in the basket full of other used cloth.

“‘Scuse me, miss,” a voice said from behind you.

You turned to see Stack grinning at you, sly look plastered on his face, per usual.

“Um, hi?”

“Hi,” he repeated. “I don’t mean to bother, but… that was you singing up there?”

You nodded.

“Mhm.”

He smiled, gold pieces on display. His eyes scanned you for a moment before speaking again.

“Just wanted to let you know I enjoyed it. Sounded like an angel sent from heaven.”

You raised your brow, slightly, “Thanks.”

He moved a hair closer to you, eyes never moving from yours.

“I’m offerin’ you a spot down at this here Juke Joint.. You know the SmokeStack twins?” He asked, eyes shimmering in the restaurant’s dim lighting.

“Yeah, I heard of em’. What that gotta do with a Juke Joint?”

“We openin’ one. Right here in the Delta.” He said proudly.

You folded your arms, not responding.

“So? What you say, huh?” His voice lowered, his words only heard between you both.

You narrowed your eyes up at him, “I don’t know.. I don’t understand what I would be gettin’ outta this.”

“Well,” he ran his tongue over his lip. “Thirty cents an hour. And a front-row seat to this here pretty face. Can’t beat that.”

Something about his little comment made your stomach tumble, but you straightened your stance.

“Still not hearin’ what this’ll do for me.”

He sighed, looking around for a moment before turning back to you.

“I meant it when I said you got a voice on ya, pea. Voice like that don’t come ‘round often. Why don’t you come on out? Show folks what the blues s’posed to feel like?”

You kept your eyes on him, thinking for a moment. You didn’t know if this was just a way for him to keep persuading you to come so he could try and take you home—or what. But he had a point. How would you ever get to where you wanna be in life, with your gift, if you don’t show it to folks outside the restaurant?

You tapped your foot, trying to make a decision.

“I…” you started, looking down at your scuffed shoes.

He hummed, waiting for your response, leaning down to follow your gaze.

“You in or what?”

“Lemme talk to my Mama. See what she says, she might—“

“You a grown-ass woman, what you talkin’ bout’, askin’ your mama?” His eyes scanned you again, lips twitching like he was holding back a grin.

“She might need my help,” you finish your sentence, cutting your eyes at him. “It ain’t easy runnin’ a restaurant all by yourself, now.”

Stack gave a short nod, hand coming to his pocket, shifting around it. He pulled out some cash—real dollars, not just coins. He grabbed your hand from your side, placing the paper right in your palm.

“That gon’ cover one night for y’all?” He asked, already knowing the answer as you stared down at the money, mouth agape.

“I— You—“

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow night, then? Bring some of your mama’s platters, hear?”

And with that, he tipped his hat, showing off the gold in his mouth before turning to the door.

꒰ ≧ ̫ ≦ ꒱ྀི : decided to split this in two parts !! :) first sinners fic.. kinda nervy tho.

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sweetstrawberryys · 2 months ago

Text

“Double the Love”

— Task Force 141 x Pregnant!Reader

Reader shows the ultrasound but plot twist it's TWINS!!

Masterlist

---

Captain John Price

You’d barely made it back from the ultrasound before John noticed something was different.

“You alright, love?” he asked, sliding off his coat and placing his hand instinctively over your belly.

“I’m fine,” you said, lips trembling into a smile. “But I do have some news.”

You handed him the sonogram — this time, with two tiny figures on the screen.

He stared.

Then looked again.

“…There’s two.”

“Twins,” you whispered.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Just stood there, in quiet awe. Then he walked over, gently cradling your face in his calloused hands.

“Two heartbeats.” He swallowed. “Two little pieces of us.”

He kissed you — slow, reverent — like you were a miracle.

“I didn’t think I could feel luckier than I did the day you said you loved me,” he whispered. “But you just proved me wrong.”

---

Simon “Ghost” Riley

He’d always been quiet with his affection, but this was different.

You showed him the updated scan and waited in silence as he stared.

He didn’t speak.

You started to panic. “Simon, I—”

He reached out slowly, as if the paper was too fragile for his hands. His thumb brushed over the image of two tiny shapes.

“…Twins?” His voice cracked.

You nodded, eyes welling up. “Yeah.”

He sat down heavily on the couch, jaw tense, mask pushed halfway up.

“I never thought I’d have one family… let alone three.”

You moved to sit beside him, and he pulled you gently into his arms, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’ll protect all of you. With everything I have. Always.”

And when he placed a hand on your belly, there was a warmth in his touch you’d never felt from him before.

---

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

You thought the man couldn’t be more dramatic.

Then he found out you were having twins.

He stared at the ultrasound photo, mouth agape. “Two? Are you sure that’s not just one doing a somersault?”

“Positive,” you laughed.

He let out a breathless laugh, running both hands through his hair. “Well, hell. Guess we’re skipping right past chaos and going full mayhem.”

But then he looked at you — really looked — and all the wild, playful energy melted into something quieter.

He knelt in front of you, resting his head gently against your stomach. “You’ve given me more than I ever deserved. And now, double.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, heart full.

“Guess I’ll have to learn how to swaddle two babies while holding a gun, huh?”

You snorted.

“And I wouldn’t trade a single second of it.”

---

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

He was already the softest of the bunch, but this? This floored him.

You handed him a wrapped frame, and he unboxed it carefully — revealing the sonogram labeled: “Baby A & Baby B.”

He froze, eyes wide, lips parted. “Is this real?”

You nodded, heart pounding.

Gaz sank onto the couch, stunned, then started laughing — soft, overwhelmed laughter. “Two of them. Two.”

He pulled you into his arms, peppering kisses along your forehead.

“This means double the diapers,” he whispered between kisses. “Double the crying. But also… double the snuggles. Double the bedtime stories. Double the love.”

You melted into him, feeling safer than ever.

“I can’t wait to be the dad they deserve,” he said against your hair. “I’ll give them everything.”

---

Alejandro Vargas

He cried.

Not loudly — just the kind that sneaks up and steals your breath.

You handed him the sonogram with trembling fingers, watching as he studied it. When he realized what it meant, his eyes slowly filled.

“Dos?” he asked softly. “Two little hearts?”

“Yes.”

He sat down beside you, pulling you into his arms with infinite care. “You are a goddess, mi vida. You carry two souls inside you. How can I ever thank you for this gift?”

“You don’t have to,” you whispered.

“But I will,” he replied. “Every day, for the rest of my life.”

He placed a reverent kiss to your stomach, tears glistening in his lashes. “They are already so loved.”

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cutehoons02 · 2 months ago

Text

You are my most beautiful destiny

*pairing: frat Gryffindor boy Jake x gryffondor Girl

*trope: brother's best friend

*synopsis: Being Heeseung’s sister at Hogwarts has always meant only one thing: to be untouchable. No one dares to approach, no one dares to try… No one but Jake Sim, his best friend, also Gryffindor. After a summer in which everything seems changed - longer looks, more mischievous smiles - between you and Jake explodes a forbidden tension difficult to ignore. In the silence of the Common Room, between shared tasks and childish quarrels, there are stolen kisses, forbidden caresses and secret nights. Jake knows that breaking Heeseung’s trust is a mistake.You know you’re playing with fire but when the desire is so strong that it takes your breath away, how do you stop?

*tags: A lot of fun, they love to tease each other in every way,Hee's discovery of your secret in the final, both Jake and the protagonist are perverted, Jake is really down bad for her, green flag, secret, fake innocent girl, needy Jake, needy girl, lots of kisses, fingering, male masturbation, big dick, virgin reader, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) -room necessities- pet names (baby,plague) (jakey) +18

12.1k (✨)

(English is not my native language)

The summer had flown by like a poorly cast spell. You had spent months in Muggle London, far from the corridors of Hogwarts, trying to forget—or maybe drown— that foolish, impossible crush that had tightened your stomach every time Jake Sim walked past you. Jake: Your brother Heeseung’s best friend, the guy you should never have looked at in that way, and yet, that summer, the irreparable had happened. When he had come to visit Heeseung in London, on one of those lazy, sun-filled afternoons, something happened that you had wanted since you were a little girl: a kiss. It's not one of those accidental or stolen kisses. No. Jake had looked at you as if he were seeing you for the first time—not just “Hee’s little sister”—and pressed his lips to yours with a hunger you had always dreamed of and feared at the same time. It had been rough, sweet, desperate, and now… you were crossing the doors of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, your heart feeling like it was about to explode, your new uniform fitting snugly around your hips that summer had made more mature, and the unbearable weight of your secret pressing down on your shoulders. You felt different, and he was making you think it even more. His eyes found you immediately through the crowd, and when Jake saw you, he thought: Shit. She’s changed.

Your skirt was a little shorter, your legs were longer, and your hair fell on your shoulders like a damned walking temptation. Jake forced himself to breathe as he watched you walk through the Great Hall, your cheeks flushed from the fresh air of the first day, that clumsy confidence making you irresistible. You were no longer the little girl clinging to Heeseung’s arm, and you weren’t just his best friend’s sister anymore. You were the girl he had kissed that damned night in London, against the wall of your room, the taste of your skin still burning on his tongue. The girl who made him want to say to hell with every rule, every friendship, every shred of common sense. Jake looked at you like a predator too hungry to pretend to be harmless, cursing himself when his eyes slid down your body, unable to stop.

“Don’t think about how much you miss kissing her.”

“Don’t think about how much you miss feeling her tremble beneath your hands.” And then, when you locked eyes with him and smiled, he knew. He was screwed.

The Magical Astrophysics classroom exuded pure terror mixed with disgust. Just hearing about astral formulas, magical gravitational calculations, and planetary rotations made you want to throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower. You hated math, you hated physics, and you would have hated that class… if it weren't for him. Jake Sim. No longer just a Hogwarts student, no longer just your brother's best friend. Jake was now the assistant to the professor of Astrophysics, standing at the desk in his gray and red sweater that clung to his broad chest, jeans that followed the lines of his muscular thighs, and those messy hair that seemed like they'd been styled by a storm. He was twenty-two and still had that princely face with a hint of… dangerously perverted boy vibes. The Flynn Rider of Hogwarts, as you and your best friend had nicknamed him—only with less gallantry and more nimble hands. You found yourself in the second row, your legs elegantly crossed, the skirt—okay, maybe a bit too short—following the latest fashion, your chin resting on your hands as you watched him. Every movement he made, like erasing the blackboard, or leaning forward, stretching the fabric of his jeans over his quads. Damn. T/L, sitting next to you—your best friend and your big brother's girlfriend—elbowed you firmly in the side. 'Stop looking at him like you're reading the list of things you want him to do to you,' she whispered, amused. You pouted at her, squeezing her arm. "If I weren't Hee's sister… he'd already be mine," you muttered under your breath. She chuckled and made a shushing gesture over her lips. 'You're forgetting to close your mouth, darling. Keep this up, and you'll drool on the desk.' With a grimace, you gave her a light slap on the shoulder, and you both burst into laughter, trying to muffle the sound with your palms. Until you heard the sharp clapping of the professor’s hands, and the room fell into silence. --Alright, alright!-- the professor boomed, turning his gaze on Jake with evident approval. --This subject is crucial—it makes up thirty-five percent of your final diploma grade! And I want you all to know how possible it is to excel: Jake Sim, how did you do on the final test- Jake, with his usual slightly cocky grin, answered without hesitation: "A hundred out of a hundred, professor." The room murmured. Some applauded. You? You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from clapping too loudly or… jumping on him. "For this, guys, he'll be my official assistant and your role model throughout the academic year," the professor concluded proudly.

T/L leaned toward you, whispering in your ear: 'Don't tell me you chose Magical Astrophysics just because he was in it…' You shrugged innocently. She looked at you, exasperated. 'You're the worst. Heeseung would skin you alive if he found out even about a flirt, you know that? This isn't going to end well…' You looked at her with a smile that said everything and nothing, and meanwhile, while the professor explained, your eyes darted back to Jake. Jake, who for a moment had stopped listening to the professor. Jake, who was looking at you with that mix of amusement and… damn hunger.

It had been just a week since the start of classes, and already you felt like you were drowning under a mountain of homework. The Magical Astrophysics professor seemed to enjoy torturing you, assigning interactive models of planets and magical constellations to be completed within a few days. There you were, curled up in a dimly lit corner of the library, near the Astral Tower, with a pout on your face. Even with the perfect formulas and a little magic, you still couldn't locate a damn constellation on your enchanted 3D notebook. It was as if the stars were having fun mocking you. You sighed, casting a glance at the empty table beside you. You were supposed to be working with T/L, your best friend from Ravenclaw, but she had decided to go on a romantic date with your brother. "Romantic," you thought sarcastically, "they’re probably fucking like rabbits!" Surely, they were doing anything but having candlelit dinners in the alleys of Hogsmeade... Your thighs instinctively pressed together, a familiar heat rising from your core. You, too, would have liked to... experience those things. To feel what it meant to have someone so close. So deep inside. It was in that exact moment that a voice you knew all too well—one you had dreamed of, imagined, and desired in your most forbidden thoughts—broke the heavy air of the library: "Are they fucking like rabbits?"

You spun around quickly, your heart threatening to explode out of your chest. In front of you, dressed in black jeans and a soft sweater that caressed his sculpted chest, stood Jake Sim. The perfect incarnation of a prince charming... disguised as a damn temptation, and you jumped up from your chair, shouting:

"You can't use magic to listen to other people's thoughts!" you snapped, maybe a little too loudly. A few students shot you glares, and you blushed down to the roots of your hair, while Jake chuckled softly, with that raspy laugh that seemed like a spell meant to make your knees tremble. He came closer, lowering himself to your level and with a calloused finger, he lightly brushed your lips, silencing you gently.

"Shh... Don't shout, sweetheart. We’re in a library," he whispered, his voice so low and warm it made your skin tingle. You immediately lowered your gaze, feeling suddenly small under his presence. Jake sat down across from you without asking, taking your 3D notebook and pretending to study it with false concentration. Then, with a crooked smile, he looked up and asked

"So… who’s fucking like a rabbit, huh?" You shook your head furiously, your eyes wide and innocent. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Jake chuckled, resting his elbow on the table and his cheek on his hand, looking at you like he was staring at something incredibly funny and incredibly desirable at the same time. "I never thought Heeseung’s sweet little sister knew… such expressions." You clenched your fists on the table, lifting your gaze defiantly. That golden retriever laugh was dangerous. It made you want to jump on him. "I’m not as innocent as you think, Jake." For a moment, his smile faltered just slightly—a second, but enough to make something dark flicker in his eyes; a flash of raw, pure desire. Jake leaned in a little closer to you, his voice lowering to an almost sinful whisper: "Oh, really?"

"Yes," you answered sharply, without hesitation. Jake chuckled, that low, raspy laugh of his that made every nerve in your body vibrate, and pressed on, tilting his head to the side: "So, who’s fucking like rabbits in heat?" You blushed furiously, lowering your gaze to the notebook. With a barely audible voice, you mumbled: "T/L and Heeseung…" When you looked up, you noticed Jake’s eyebrows raise in a surprised and mischievous expression at the same time. He stretched slowly, carelessly, and his sweater lifted just enough to give you a forbidden view: sculpted abs, golden skin, the perfect V-line disappearing into his dark jeans… and those fine hairs that seemed to point the way to a place you’d only dared to imagine. You swallowed hard. Jake noticed immediately. With a cheeky grin, he threw at you: "Try not to drool too much, little one." You rolled your eyes, huffing, though inside, your heart was pounding like a drum. You went back to writing formulas, desperately trying to focus while he, with patient movements that were always a little too close to your personal space, corrected you, drawing light lines with his finger on the star maps. When you told him, with a shy smile, that he’d be an excellent professor, Jake gave you a look that made you want to melt into your chair. "You’re better than you think, sweetheart," he praised, and your stomach twisted. The sun slowly dipped behind the spires of Hogwarts, and small stars began to sparkle in the high windows of the library. Jake pointed to one of the constellations in the real sky and compared it to the one you had written, his proud smile when you finally managed to spot it. "Thanks… really," you murmured. "Always for you," he replied, in a voice so full of meaning it sent shivers down your spine.

As you walked back to the Common Room, Jake walked ahead of you, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He was relaxed, but now and then, he threw furtive glances over his shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped abruptly. Lost in your thoughts about how unfair it was that he was so perfect, you bumped into him, planting your forehead against his broad, muscular shoulder. You lifted your face, ready to complain… but found yourself trapped by his eyes, so close to yours that a single breath would have brought you together. Jake smiled softly. Then, without saying a word, he grabbed your hand and quickly looked around: the corridor was empty. With a swift spell, whispered against your skin, he made the Invisibility Cloak appear: a soft glow enveloped you, hiding you from prying eyes. With a quick spell, whispered against your skin, the Invisibility Cloak appeared: a soft glow enveloped you both, hiding you from prying eyes. He gently pushed you against the wall, your body pressed against the cold stone, his warmth immediately surrounding you. He leaned in, his face just a breath away from yours, and asked, his voice rough with an almost animalistic tension: "What did you mean… that you're not so innocent anymore, huh?" Your heart pounded in your chest, but you lifted your chin proudly. "I’m twenty, Jake. I’m not a child anymore. I know what happens between couples…" Jake's eyes darkened. He inhaled deeply while you, with a voice that barely trembled, continued: "I know about the different sexual positions. The verbal… erotic games… that can be done with magic. The foreplay… with hands… and magical toys." For a long, endless second, Jake remained still, staring at you as though you were saying the most shocking — and at the same time, most exciting — thing he’d ever heard. Then, he slowly ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, a gesture that revealed how hard he was fighting to maintain control. He warned you, his voice low and raspy: "If Heeseung knew even half of what you just said… he’d lock you away in a magical cloistered church. And throw away the key." You burst into laughter, the sound clear and genuine, warming even the air around you. "I guess you think T/L and I never talk about what happens… between her and Hee during sex? We're girls, it’s normal we confide these things…" You raised an eyebrow, innocent only in appearance.

Jake groaned softly, exasperated yet amused at the same time, and leaned in closer, pressing his face against your neck. He inhaled deeply, savoring your scent, before whispering against your warm skin: "You’re becoming a little troublemaker…" Then, with a sweetness almost cruel, he slowly degraded you: "So good at playing with fire… and still don’t know how badly you could burn yourself, little one." His lips barely brushed the sensitive spot on your neck, sending a wave of heat through you, making your knees tremble slightly. You stayed there, frozen against the cold wall, his face so close to yours that you could count every dark lash framing his deep eyes. With a barely audible voice, you whispered to him: "Have you ever thought… about what happened in London this summer?" Jake tensed up slightly. For what felt like an eternity, he said nothing — just his warm breath against your skin, and then he exploded into one of those low, deep laughs that made your soul vibrate. He moved just enough to look you in the eyes and asked, with a mischievous little smile: "And you, princess… have you thought about me?" You blinked, surprised, and responded sharply, "You don't answer a question… with another question." Jake laughed again, this time with a proud air, and tilted his head with that typical Gryffindor swagger: "Only a true Gryffindor would have the guts to throw that back at me. You're really stubborn, huh, little one?" He ran a hand through his hair in that nervous, fascinating gesture you had known since you were a child — a tic he'd always had, whenever he was agitated or about to say something important. His eyes, now dark as night, fixed on yours as he lowered his voice to make you tremble: "I thought about you every day, pest. Every single, damn day." Your breath caught. Jake moved even closer, his hips nearly pressing against yours against the wall, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "I would have kissed you nonstop. I would have wanted you in my room… or in yours… studying, watching those stupid Muggle movies… and then touching you, damn it, touching you without stopping. 24 hours a day. Because I…" He paused, squinting as if holding back the urgency, "…I need physical contact like I need air." His fingers lightly traced the outline of your jaw, his voice getting dirtier, rougher. "I would have wanted to make you feel good with my tongue… worship every inch of your body… and fuck you on any free surface at Hogwarts."

You instinctively clenched your thighs, the heat between them becoming almost unbearable. Jake immediately noticed the movement, and his eyes flashed with desire. He smiled in a sweet, dirty way, degrading you with a low tone, like a whispered promise:

"Look at how you're squeezing your legs for me, little one... You don't know how much it drives me crazy." His calloused fingers brushed your cheek again, tracing small, slow, almost hypnotic circles. He asked, his voice trembling,

"And you? Have you thought about me, little temptress?" You pouted slightly, biting your lower lip before murmuring,

"Yes... I've thought about you every night. But..." You bit your lip even harder. "I was scared... Scared of what Heeseung would think."

Jake growled softly, his jaw tightening.

"I knew we'd get ourselves into serious trouble," he said, his voice filled with frustration and restrained desire. You smiled, tilting your head slightly and responding in a bold whisper,

"If you're my trouble... then you'll be my favorite trouble." Jake froze for half a second. Then, with an explosion of emotion too strong to contain, he praised you in a hoarse voice: "Shit... you're perfect." And without giving you even a moment to breathe, he smashed his lips against yours.

The kiss wasn’t sweet; it was urgent, desperate. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you against him as if he wanted to melt into you. Your back hit the wall, but you didn’t even notice: all you felt was Jake’s mouth claiming yours, his tongue searching for yours with a wild hunger, his fingers caressing you everywhere they could reach. Jake’s hands tightened firmly around your hips as your lips continued to search for each other with increasing desperation. His body was warm against yours, his breath growing more ragged. In a surge of boldness, you sank your fingers into his soft hair and tugged lightly. Jake moaned against your mouth — a low, visceral sound — and without meaning to, he thrust his pelvis forward, rubbing his hard erection against your center, already throbbing desperately under the thin fabric of your skirt. A moan escaped your lips. You stayed still, panting, and with lips barely parted, whispered to him: “Merlin… you’re so hard…” Jake chuckled against your skin, the sound rough and dirty: “Your fault, pest.” His voice was hoarse, laced with desire. “If you weren’t so fucking sexy every time you sit in class with that damn mini skirt of yours…” His big hands slid slowly, boldly, under the fabric of your skirt, creeping up your trembling thighs. He moved closer to your ear, nibbling on your lobe before whispering to you: “…and then you complain when I look at you like I want to eat you alive.” His fingers slid higher, grazing the inside of your thigh with slow, deliberate movements meant to drive you crazy. His lips descended on your neck, kissing and teasing your skin until he found a sensitive spot. When he started sucking on it softly, almost marking you, you confessed in a breathy voice: “It was my intention… to have you looking at me.” Jake stopped for a second, his fiery eyes locked on yours. He degraded you gently, his tone hard and provocative: “Damn pest… you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” He bit your neck lightly, and you moaned his name, unable to hold back: “J-Jake…” His breath hit you, hot against your skin. “Shit… you’re driving me crazy, little one.” His hands were now under your skirt, his fingers dangerously close to your wet center. The thin fabric of your underwear was the only barrier between you and him, and the way he caressed you made you tremble all over.

Then — footsteps. The sound of footsteps in the hallway. Instinctively, you tried to pull away, but Jake pressed you harder against the wall, one broad hand covering your mouth while the other held you still against his hard body. “Shhh, love… not a sound,” he whispered against your skin. He continued kissing your neck, sucking your skin, while your body slowly twisted against him. Every moan you tried to let out was muffled by his palm, making the situation even more forbidden, even more exciting. When the footsteps faded and the silence returned, Jake slowly removed his hand from your mouth. Your lips were red, your breath broken. Jake looked at you and chuckled softly, satisfied with how he’d reduced you: “Merlin, you’re perfect. You’re made to be touched, adored… and spoiled by me.” He lowered himself to give you another dirty, sweet kiss on the lips, then reluctantly pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. “We should… go to dinner before someone notices we’re using the invisibility cloak in completely inappropriate ways!" He smiled mischievously, biting your lip lightly, then took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours: “It’s not over, pest. Tonight, in the Room of Requirement… after dinner.” And you nodded.

At dinner at the long Gryffindor table, you were sitting next to Heeseung, and in front of you was Jake, who sometimes stared at you but at the same time did everything he could to avoid being caught by Heeseung, while they talked about Quidditch and their university courses. You were savoring the last bite of your pear and chocolate cake when Heeseung turned to you with his usual nosy older-brother smile. 'By the way, sis… a certain Jareth Moon — a first-year Ravenclaw on the Quidditch team — asked me for permission to ask you out.' Your fork froze mid-air. You turned to look at him, frowning. "Permission?! Hee, are we in the 1800s or something?" Heeseung laughed, shaking his head. Jake, across the table, had stiffened imperceptibly, his eyes fixed on his glass. 'Don’t get mad, it’s just out of respect. He’s the first guy who came to me instead of sneaking around. It impressed me, and… I said yes.' That was when Jake nearly choked on his pumpkin juice, coughing and banging a hand on the table. Between coughs, he muttered with a tight smile: "Well… for a Ravenclaw, he must be pretty desperate to ask for the brother's permission." The jab was dry, almost venomous.

Heeseung shot him a sharp look, but then shrugged, defending the guy: 'He’s just a polite guy, Jake. Not everyone’s a damn fool with their brains fried from Quidditch, you know?' You tried to ignore them, irritated. Chewing loudly, you snapped "I don’t like him anyway." Heeseung grimaced 'For once I give you the green light… and you refuse? Seriously?' You clenched your fists against the tablecloth, your face flushed with frustration. You suddenly stood up, moving your plate and startling Jake, who looked at you with those dark eyes, filled with something far more dangerous than simple disapproval. "It’s not him I want," you declared loudly, enough to silence the nearby boys. With your heart pounding in your chest, you quickly turned and walked across the Great Hall.

Before you left, you shot a quick glance at Jake — and he was watching you, intense, his fist clenched as if he wanted to crush something. Jake made a move to touch his hair — his nervous tic — but he stopped, aware that Heeseung would catch him immediately. So he took your plate, absentmindedly finishing the last piece of cake you’d left. Heeseung watched him with a half-smile, amused.

'So... who do you think really wants my sister?'

Jake shrugged, staring at his plate without answering right away. Then, with a cynical chuckle, he said

"I don’t even want to imagine it. With that stubbornness, being her boyfriend must be a fucking nightmare."

Heeseung laughed loudly, thinking Jake was joking. He didn’t catch the bittersweet shadow that passed through his friend’s eyes.

Jake threw one last glance at the door you had disappeared through and stood up calmly, shaking off his robes:

"I have to go. I’ve got assignments to grade... including your pest of a sister’s."

Heeseung laughed again, 'Don’t be too hard on her, come on. She’s good, even if she pretends not to be.'

Jake flashed a crooked smile, hiding the urgency burning beneath his skin. As soon as he stepped out of the Great Hall, he saw, from the corner of his eye, Heeseung reach his girlfriend at the Ravenclaw table. He sighed softly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Thank God," he muttered to himself. "At least for tonight... no one will bother us." The Room of Requirement was already calling to him from the basement. And deep down, he knew very well that he wouldn’t be able to resist much longer — neither you nor the desperate pull of your body, which longed for only him.

Jake entered the Room of Requirement and immediately saw you. You were sitting on a wide sofa, next to a large lit fireplace casting flickering shadows on the golden walls. In your hands, you held a magical phone, scrolling through Muggle videos — probably romantic comedies, your guilty pleasure. As soon as you felt his electric energy vibrating in the air, you looked up. His eyes caught you immediately, dark and full of restrained desire. Jake sat next to you, spreading his legs in that cheeky, relaxed, and damn sexy way of his. He watched you for a moment, before chuckling with his low, hoarse voice. "Should I ask your big brother for permission too to have a date with you, princess?" You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, though your heart was pounding in your chest: "I hate it when he does that, Jake… I’m not a kid anymore." Jake immediately warned you in a low, authoritative tone, while his hand gently stroked your thigh. "You should never say — or even think — such awful things about your brother. He cares about you, even if he treats you like a little girl." You lowered your gaze, nibbling on your lip, and nodded softly. Jake motioned with his hand: "Come here." You timidly approached his legs, but it wasn’t enough. Jake grabbed you by the hips firmly and placed you straddling him, making you blush to your ears. One of his hands slid under your skirt, brushing the bare skin of your thighs with slow and confident fingers, while the other went under your warm sweater. He inhaled your scent — a sweet mix of chocolate and caramel — and closed his eyes for a moment, almost enchanted. You pressed yourself against him, clinging to his shoulders. Jake lowered his head and started kissing your neck, running his tongue over it, gently nibbling on your skin. Between kisses, he whispered: "That Ravenclaw… do you know him?" You shook your head slightly, your voice trembling: "No… never seen him before." Jake smiled against your skin, satisfied, and replied: "Good." You took his chin between your fingers, forcing him to look into your eyes. "Are you jealous, Jake?"

He stared at you intensely, gripping your ass tightly, making you gasp. With a hoarse, almost threatening voice, he answered: "I don’t even want to imagine seeing you with someone else. If it’s not me… there shouldn’t be anyone else." It came naturally to you to run your hands through his messy brown hair, ruffling it. "You’re so cute when you’re jealous…" Jake immediately warned you, sweetly degrading you: "Pest, don’t tease me like that… or you’ll end up crying under me." Then he gave your ass a small slap, making the fabric of your skirt snap against your skin, and a moan escaped your lips, making you feel all hot. Jake laughed softly, a rough sound that made you vibrate inside: "Tell me, what do you plan to do with your future boyfriend… who, by the way, will only be me. Got it, pest?" Still a little out of breath, you responded with a provocative smile: "You’re too possessive, Jake." He praised you, nibbling your neck, while his hand under the sweater caressed your bare back: "Because… you’re all mine. Only mine." Then, with a hot whisper in your ear, he asked: "And now… I want to know: what dirty thoughts have you had about me?" You blushed, shaking your head with a small, awkward smile. Jake reminded you, biting your ear: "Don’t play shy, pest… you already confessed them to me before… now I want the details." You closed your eyes and, trembling, began to think of all those fantasies that you had repressed for months, with your face on fire and your heart pounding in your chest, you approached his ear, feeling the warm and spicy scent of his skin. You whispered softly, your voice trembling "…I touched myself all summer thinking of you… I wanted to feel your mouth against my nipples… I wanted to beg your name as I came to your face … your fingers… I wanted to feel you inside me, so crazy. And I wanted to do it in places where they could also discover us… I also thought about the erotic games that older girls talked about… the ones they did to their boyfriends…" He stood still for a second as if your breath had ignited his blood. Then, slowly, like a predator savoring its prey, you lifted up its sweater, revealing its sculpted abdomen. You began to kiss him shyly, from the collarbones, passing with the tip of the tongue along the perfect line of his abs. Your little hands trembled against his warm skin, as he closed his eyes, barely holding back control. With a hoarse voice, deep and sharp, he gently degraded you: "Little plague… you have no idea what you're doing to me. You're playing with fire… and I'm not going to turn it off." he inhaled hard, clenching his jaw: "I want to adore you, make you cry from pleasure… I want to hear you implore me to fuck you, princess. But not today. Today I will teach you to collapse under my touch." You nodded trembling, not being able to look away from his black eyes, so full of desire. In a broken voice you asked him «…C - what should I do…?" he just smiled, that dirty smile that made your knees shake: "Stand up slightly, love." You obeyed, arching your pelvis. With a quick whispered spell, he slid your skirt down to your ankles. Your sweatshirt also faded like snow in the sun, leaving you alone in a red lingerie outfit that looked sewn to your skin.

"Fucking little temptress… Red panties and a matching bra? You planned to make me lose my mind, didn't you, plague?" He made you lie slowly on the couch and climbed on top of you, his weight against your half-naked body. He slid his hard cock over your most sensitive part, snatching at you a sweet moan, so spontaneous that he growled softly. He rubbed softly, feeling the heat between you, while his hands held you still, as if you were about to escape from too great a pleasure. Slowly he began to cover your thighs with small kisses, to climb up, to make you tremble. She reached the edge of the red panties and stopped, looking into your eyes: "You're sure, little plague…?» You stammered, blushing furiously " I want you… just you… Please…" With a carnivorous smile, he slid his panties off, throwing them somewhere behind him. He bent down to look at you, to take you all with his gaze and gently degraded you: "Look how you are already all lucid to me… Dirty little plague…" You bit your lip as his fingers grazed your hot center, making you moan. You asked him with a little voice: "Jake.. want… I want to feel good… Please…" He smiled against your skin: "Oh, my love… I'll make you feel so good that you'll never want to break away from me again." he ran a finger against your swollen, throbbing clitoris, pinching it slightly. A desperate groan eluded you, as you moaned his nickname: "Jakey.." He smiled proudly, and continued to tease you with slow, deep touches, making you lose all thought, all control, all rationality…he slowly slid his tongue against your clit, savoring you for the first time. Your body arched its hips in a snap, as if lightning had passed through you all, and without even thinking about it you pulled his hair with force, babbling in groans: "J-J.. It's too much… too good… Please… don't stop…" He giggled at you, the heat of his breath making you tremble even more. He degraded you with a hoarse voice and kneaded with desire: "My plague… are you already lost under my tongue, huh? Wait till you feel my cock inside you… I'll break you in two, just because you're mine." As his words made you all tremble, you felt the promise of a deeper touch: he whispered to you, " Now I'll slide a finger inside this fucking wet cunt, baby. Prepare." you nodded frantically, unable to say anything else, and when his finger entered you slowly, you screamed with pleasure, your head throwing back on the couch: "A-ahhh… J-Jakey!" he swore, as he felt how tight you was, so damn tight he had to restrain himself: "Fuck… you're perfect…tight just for me…tight for the only guy who will have you. Tight for what will break you while he fucks you, my baby." His tongue moved back to your clitoris with small slow movements, making eights while his finger gently prepared you. You moaned, stammered broken words while still pulling his hair, unable to control the pleasure that invaded you "you-you are… so good… so good… I want you… I want you… ak.." Without warning you, he slid a second finger into you. Your body stiffened and you moaned in despair.

"T-too much… It's too much…" he laughed softly against your skin, enjoying your every reaction: "I'm just preparing you, little plague. You don't even know how little I'll hold out before I want to fuck you on every surface of Hogwarts…" He kept working you slow, feeling your muscles tighten around his fingers. You moaned, you called him, you abandoned yourself to him without shame. "J.. jake.. I want to come… Please… I want to come for you…" he lifted his head and looked at you from above, his mouth shining at you, a dangerous smile on his lips "Do you want to come, my love? Then give me something in return. Tell me a dirty thought you made about me." you shook your head hard, all red, biting your lip. "N-no… I can't… it's embarrassing…" "Good girls only come if they give something in return. If you don't want to tell me… then you don't deserve to come, plague." And so, with a slow and cruel movement, he removed a finger from inside you. "N-no! No, please! Don't stop!" He looked at you satisfied, waiting. With tears in his eyes from need, you collapsed and stammered "During… during a game of Quidditch……I thought how nice it would be for me to get in the stands….with your uniform still on… and I with nothing under my skirt…..while everyone looked at you as the hero……and I knew you were scoring the real point with me…" he growled quietly, as if those words had taken away any remaining control. He pinched your clit with cruel and perfect precision. You screamed his name, your body exploding under his fingers, your hips moving uncontrollably against his hand, as you squirted against his mouth and fingers. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He leaned over you and kissed you sweetly, making you savor yourself on his tongue, as he whispered: "Very good girl, my little plague…You were perfect for me… and it's just the beginning." He held you in his strong arms, his heart still beating madly, as you felt that, with him, you would know heaven… and the sweetest hell.

It had been two months since you and Jake had decided to give being together a try and to be honest, those had been two of the best months of your life. In class, you were among the best: every time the professor gave you an excellent grade on a project, you knew there was a special "reward" waiting for you… Jake, who would secretly take your hand under the desks, would drag you down the darkest halls of Hogwarts and kiss you against the cold stone statues, smiling between kisses like a boy who had just won his most important trophy: you. There were nights when, with the invisibility cloak, you'd lie together on the banks of the Black Lake. You'd gaze at the constellations, and talk about your dreams, and he would hold you tight, whispering sweet things… or dirty ones, depending on his mood. During the parties, Jake became even more bold: when Heeseung was busy dancing with his girlfriend — your best friend — or hiding somewhere to do who knows what, Jake would approach you from behind. He'd whisper things in your ear that made your cheeks turn red and your heart race, things about how much he desired you and how he couldn’t wait to be alone with you. Between a hidden kiss, a stolen laugh, and study nights where you ended up kissing more than studying, you and Jake had become inseparable. Even though no one officially knew yet… especially Heeseung.

That afternoon, you were walking side by side with your usual group: Sunghoon and his girlfriend, your best friend (Hee's girlfriend), Ni-Ki, Sunoo, Jay, Jungwon, and of course, Jake. Jake was next to you, talking to Jay, but now and then, he would throw you quick glances and lightly brush his hand against yours, as if to remind you he was there. You all entered the sweet shop in Hogsmeade, immersed in the usual sugary scent of chocolate, caramel, and cotton candy. The line was long, but while you were focused on choosing which pastry to get, a boy approached. He was tall, much taller than Jake. Blond hair, almost shaved, and eyes as blue as the frozen sea. He introduced himself with a confident smile:

"Hey, how’s it going? I’m Jareth. I think you’ve heard of me… I’m on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team." You turned around, surprised, recognizing the name: Jareth, the one Heeseung had mentioned weeks before. You smiled politely and introduced yourself. Jareth was the complete opposite of Jake: where Jake was muscular but agile, Jareth was imposing and massive. Jake had those deep, warm hazel puppy-dog eyes, while Jareth’s looked sharp and cold. Casually, as you were picking a pastry, he asked: "I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me, maybe this weekend… You know, I got permission from your brother." You stopped, surprised, and then raised an eyebrow. "Oh… really? I feel like a medieval princess, locked in a tower… how sweet!" Your little jab didn’t go unnoticed. Behind you, Jay and Jake — who had heard everything — started laughing quietly, but Jake… Jake was nervously running a hand through his hair, his eyes bright with restrained jealousy. His lips were pressed tight, and Jay gave him a pat on the shoulder, whispering: -Don’t make a scene, bro… Breathe.- Jareth, oblivious to the tension, gave you another bold smile. "So, what do you say?" You tilted your head to the side, studying him for a few seconds, then smiled sweetly. "You were kind to ask for permission… but no, thanks. Right now, I’ve got other things on my mind. I just want to graduate with good grades, that’s all." Jareth nodded understandingly, not pressing further, and waved goodbye with a small, respectful gesture. Jake, sitting at a table not far away with Jay and the others, clenched his jaw tightly, so much so that Jay noticed and nudged him in the side to get him to relax. When you returned to the group with your bag of sweets, you sat right next to Jake.

He glanced at you sideways, his hands clenched on his knees as if he were holding himself back. Heeseung, sitting across from you, stared at you with furrowed brows and burst out: 'Why didn’t you say yes to him?' You rolled your eyes in exasperation. "Because I don’t like him, Hee! Do I need to repeat myself?" Jay, amused by the whole situation, chimed in with a mischievous laugh. -Then tell us, what’s your type? What kind of guy would you really like?- But before you could answer, Heeseung mumbled through gritted teeth: 'Definitely not you.' Jay immediately raised his hands in surrender, laughing. -Relax, big bro, my heart beats for someone else!- You giggled under your breath while biting into your chocolate pastry, finding the whole scene ridiculous but sweet at the same time. You chewed slowly, thoughtful, then looked at Jay — but also glanced at Jake out of the corner of your eye — and began to list dreamily: "I like guys who are a bit cheeky… not shy. They need a lot of affection… especially physical affection." Jake bit his lip, lowering his hoodie to hide a smile. "They need to be sweet but also a little… perverted," you continued, with an embarrassed grin. Jake almost choked on the hot chocolate he was drinking, while Jay laughed loudly. "And they need to know what they want," you added, crossing your arms. "Physically," you laughed a little, "I like guys with dark, long hair, a bit nerdy but not too much, with big brown eyes, and an athletic build…" Jake made a joke, throwing a jab that made Jay blush. "Basically… you want the whole package. 24/7 worship included?" You turned towards him, clutching the bag of sweets in your hands, and with a fake innocent smile said: "Exactly." Heeseung was staring at you in silence, with such a dark look that it seemed like he could zap someone at any moment. Finally, he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. 'It was better when you were ten and running around the meadow chasing frogs, rather than hearing you talk about boys…' His girlfriend, laughing softly, gave him a light shove on the shoulder. 'Maybe that’s true for others, but for her, it’s different.' You clenched your jaw, irritated, and staring at him with eyes that were teary but firm, you replied: "One day, you’ll have to accept who my boyfriend is, Hee. Because I won’t stop wanting to love just to make you happy." At that point, Jake lowered his gaze, clenching his fists under the table, as if every word was a blow to his chest.

That afternoon, like every day, you were sitting in the study room, immersed in your Magical Astrophysics notes. The pen spun between your fingers as you tried to solve a complex problem about the trajectories of enchanted comets. The chair in front of you creaked slightly. An involuntary smile brushed your lips: at this hour, Jake always arrived, as punctual as a clock. But when you lifted your gaze, the smile slowly died on your lips. In front of you were blond hair and ice-blue eyes. Jareth. "Jareth…" you whispered, confused. He smiled at you affably, with that overly confident way about him. "Need a hand?" he asked, tilting his head. "No, thanks… I’m fine," you replied quickly, returning your focus to your notes. But he still approached, noticing a small mistake in your calculation. "Here," he said, touching your notebook with the tip of his finger, "you made a small error." You corrected it immediately, mumbling a barely perceptible thank you. Then, with casual ease, Jareth leaned toward you and whispered: "So… the answer is still no?" You looked at him, puzzled. "No?" you repeated. "I mean… to the date," he clarified, biting his lip with a mischievous look. You sighed. "Yes, the answer is still no." Jareth chuckled softly, not at all discouraged. "It’s just two hours… I won’t ruin your study plans. And if you want, we could catch up tonight in the common room… together," he added, brushing your arm with his hand. It was at that moment that a familiar, rough voice cut through the air like a blade. "Don’t you dare touch her." You whipped around. Jake was there, standing, fists clenched at his sides and a look so fierce it seemed like it could burn Jareth on the spot. Jareth snickered, throwing a challenging glance at Jake: "Relax, mate." Jake gritted his teeth and, in a low, dangerous voice, hissed, "I’m not friends with anyone." Then he moved closer, gently but firmly grabbing your wrist. "Grab your stuff," he ordered, leaving you no escape. With your heart in your throat, you quickly stuffed your books into your bag and followed him. Jake walked ahead of you, occasionally glancing back at you with quick looks, as if making sure you were still there. He kept running a nervous hand through his hair. You walked quickly down the deserted hallways of Hogwarts, and then he opened the door to the Room of Requirement.

As always, the room had understood exactly what you needed: a crackling fireplace, a large, soft sofa… and a canopy bed draped in velvet curtains. You placed your bag against the sofa, your heart pounding wildly. When you turned around, Jake was already behind you. In one swift motion, he gently but decisively pushed you against the wall. He stayed just a few centimeters away from you, his breath heavy, his eyes flashing with conflicting emotions. "Why did you smile at him?" he whispered, his voice rough. You looked at him, surprised, but didn’t even have time to respond before Jake took your face in his hands, as if afraid of breaking you, and his thumb traced the line of your cheek. "I don’t want… I can’t see you with anyone else," he said, his forehead resting against yours. "I’m not good, I’m not perfect… but I want you all to myself." You felt his words tremble against your skin, like a prayer and a promise at the same time. His lips crashed against yours with a hunger that made you tremble. Without thinking, you grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and pulled him even closer, snatching a low growl from his throat. When his tongue invaded your mouth, it seemed that an explosion of dances, sparks and magic fires exploded inside you. You groaned softly against his lips as you felt his hands sink into your hips as if he wanted to sculpt your body into memory. "I can't take it anymore," he muttered against your mouth, his voice hoarse and broken. "Me neither… I want you ,Jake.." you whispered, panting. But he paused for a second, looking into your eyes with a vulnerability that gripped your heart. "I don't want to make you suffer." You smiled, caressing his face. "I will not suffer… I've liked you for years." He let out a low growl, as if he could no longer restrain himself, and picked you up with frightening ease. He laid you gently on the large four-poster bed, the curtains swaying above you like a curtain ready to hide you from the world. He leaned over you and began to tease your neck with small wet kisses, making you laugh and moan softly. "I would have liked to… do it the first time in your room… or in mine," he whispered as he kissed your collarbone, "but Hee would find out right away." You smiled, hands entwined in his hair. "I like the Room of Necessity…" He smiled against your skin and let his sweatshirt off with an impatient gesture. Your eyes rested greedily on his defined muscles, on the warm skin that smelled of him. "You're…" you began, but he rolled over you. He straddled you on his sides, hazel eyes shining as if you were his one universe. With trembling hands you lifted his sweater, revealing his perfect chest, warm and toned. When he saw that you only had your bra underneath, he made a cute pout that made you laugh. "Little plague…" he murmured, gently degrading you as he gazed adoring at you. You bent down and began to kiss him everywhere: along his chest, on the ribs, until you left little hickeys on his skin. You could feel his breaths accelerating beneath you, his body straining every time your mouth slid over a sensitive spot.

With his heart pounding, you slowly pulled down the zip of his pants. When his gray boer: "you're… beautiful." he laughed softly, stroking your cheek. "You too, my love." In a moment of audacity, you rubbed against his hard penis, feeling its firm, pulsating texture beneath you. he groaned softly, clasping his hands on your sides.

"Continuous…" he begged you in a low voice. You continued to move slowly above him, first with small circles, then slightly increasing the pace, enjoying his reactions: the way he moaned your name, the way he closed his eyes to restrain himself. "P-I can… can I touch it and masturbate it?" you asked him with a thread of voice, trembling but excited, he giggled, his voice hoarse and low. "Where did you learn to speak like that? "he teased you, looking at you with those eyes full of desire. You smiled and, biting your lip, answered: "From a magician… who studies astrophysics… play Quidditch… and he's Australian." Jake let himself go against the mattress, his dark hair tousled and his dark eyes fixed on yours while you, straddling his muscular thighs, lowered his gray boxer when his member sprinted free, long, thick and taut against his sculpted abs, you squinted without even being able to restrain yourself. "M-merlin…" you stuttered, feeling his face glow with blush as you gazed at every pulsating vein, every impressive detail of him. he laughed, his hoarse, low laugh vibrating in your chest. He pushed back a strand behind your ear, thumb gently brushing your cheek. "I told you I would only make you feel good," he muttered against your lips,"I will never hurt you, baby" He guided your hand towards him. Trembling with excitement, you closed your hand around its hot, pulsating member, starting to pump softly, feeling the velvety skin and live weight under your fingers. he threw his head against the pillow and moaned loudly, not ashamed.

"So, baby … Fuck, you look like you were born to drive me crazy." You lowered yourself slowly, brushing the damp tip with your tongue, licking as if you were savoring a forbidden dessert. he bit his lip hard so as not to moan even louder, but you grabbed his wrist and took his hand out of his mouth. "I want to hear you," he whispered in a hoarse, mischievous voice, as you continued to tease him, slowly licking the tip, pressing his hand harder on his member. he moaned openly this time, without holding back. With one quick move, he pulled down your skirt and with it your panties, laughing at your skin while you, surprised, screamed his name. "Multitasking," he whispered with a devilish smile. He made you sit better on his thighs and, while you continued to lick and masturbate him, he ran his fingers between your thighs, caressing your clitoris already swollen with desire. A shiver ran through your entire back and you moaned hard against his cock. "You're already so wet, princess …" he laughed against your ear, as he ran two expert fingers inside you, starting to move them slowly. "I'm … I'm already melting," you moaned, involuntarily moving your hips against his fingers. he pushed deeper, while his thumb gently tormented your clit. You felt flooded with pleasure and you, without even thinking about it, rubbed harder against his hand and cock. "Keep sucking me like this," he growled softly, "and I'll make you cum so hard you won't stand up, baby" Your mouth and hands moved more decisively, while he increased the intensity of the caresses between your legs. Your tongue moved slow and greedy around the tip of his cock, savoring every ooze of his pleasure. He, with one hand in your hair, guided you a little further down, gently pushing you to welcome more into your mouth. "Breathe out of your mouth, Baby" He moaned at that gesture, his fingers sinking even deeper into your wet cunt, pumping at a more rapid and decisive pace. When you looked up at him, crossing eyes obscured by desire,you felt all trembling. You unwittingly clasped your cunt around his fingers, moaning against his throbbing flesh. he degraded you slowly, your voice scratche: "Look how good you are … a little slut all to myself, so tight and hungry for my fingers and my cock…" Your face became even redder,but the desire made your skin burn. In a shy voice, you stammered: "I … it drives me crazy to see you so lost to me … with those unkempt tufts on your forehead… your lips pouted with pleasure … you are so fucking beautiful…" he growled softly, his abdomen twitched strongly. "Fuck, I'm going to come…" he gasped. You, without hesitation, continued to suck it harder, feeling it throbbing between your lips. When it exploded in your mouth, its hot seed gently invaded you.

You did not stop: you licked everything, swallowing without leaving a single drop, as his hoarse moans filled the air. he looked at you as you wiped your lips with your tongue, and in his thoughts he screamed:

It's mine. No one will ever touch her again. She was born to be on top of me, to suck my life away. No one has ever done this to me. No.

Meanwhile, his fingers had never stopped-they continued to work at you with fierce dedication. You groaned in disarray, your hips moving by themselves, until a powerful wave swept over you and you screamed against his chest, coming hard against his fingers. Your excitement flooded his hand and part of his abdomen. he watched the scene, rapt and fucking proud, as he kissed your forehead softly and muttered against your trembling skin

"You're perfect, baby, Never stop coming for me like that, ever."

Then he slowly licked his fingers, savoring your taste as he looked at you with a bloody satisfied smile.

he pushed you with sweetness but also a hunger held against the pillows of the bed, his body pressing against yours, warm, alive, eager only for you. He kissed you with an overwhelming passion, his hands clutching your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Between kisses, you whispered breathlessly: "I want you Jake"

He just stood up, his breath broken, his eyes shining with emotion as he stroked your hair. "Are you sure, Baby" he asked in a low voice, his forehead against yours. "What we are going to do... is not just preliminary. It will be real sex." You nod firmly, clutching his face in your hands:

"I want it... but only with you." he closed his eyes for a moment, as if holding back a greater emotion than he did, then kissed you again and praised you in a hoarse whisper "You are the most beautiful thing I could ever have..."

He ducked slightly, driving his hard, pulsating cock between your swollen, wet folds. He slowly slid the tip down your slit, making you moan arching your hips, brushing your clit just to get used to its grandeur. You grabbed his hair with a trembling hand, panting: "Please … I want to hear you inside,Jake" He gently degraded you, murmuring: "Honey … if you feel bad, shake my hand hard. I'll stop, okay?" Nod, completely trusting him. Jake, with extreme delicacy, pushed his cock against your narrow and taut entrance. The head of his cock forced the virgin and hot entrance slowly, making you gasp loudly. "Breathe … relax, love …" he encouraged you, slowly kissing your cheek. When you felt that it filled you, slowly, a mixture of pleasure and a pinch of pain invaded you. he groaned at the feeling so incredibly tight around him, his voice broken: "You're … fucking perfect … so tight for me…" He pressed you against himself, letting you get used to it, and after a few moments you whispered to him in a trembling voice: "You can move… slowly, please…" Jake obeyed, sliding just outside and then slowly pushing into you, a little more each time. You groaned, your hips moving to welcome him better, the body learning its shape, its rhythm. You clasped your legs around her hips, panting: "More … I want you all…" He began to move deeper, pumping his cock into you with slow but increasingly intense thrusts. Your eyes spilt with pleasure, your lips stuttering unchecked: "C - so beautiful… you are so big… I feel everything… you are everywhere inside me…" he degraded you in a hoarse voice, without stopping: "Look how well you take me, Baby!" He kissed you violently, without ceasing to push you, while you screamed at his mouth: "I'm yours ,Jake Forever! Only yours!"

At those words he lost all restraint. He was no longer the sweet and shy guy: his need for you was total, desperate, absolute. He began to hammer you with deep and fast blows, the bed squeaking below you, while every moan, every cry, every dirty kiss you exchanged seemed to enshrine that promise between your bodies and your hearts. His cock pounded inside you mercilessly, filling you up to your stomach, making you lose your breath with every stroke. In the room there were only your moans, the wet sound of bodies meeting, the intoxicating scent of your sweaty skin, the sound of the skin slapping against the skin. And his hoarse dirty voice degrading you unfiltered: "Feel how well you take me, so wet just for me… you are perfect … fucking perfect … you were born to be under me, under my cock…" You screamed with pleasure, without shame, clutching the sheets, the muscles of your thighs trembling under each powerful lunge. he took one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, and with a deep and precise blow he twirled his hips. His cock violently hit your point G. You squirmed on the bed, an excruciating, pleasure-filled cry escaped from your lips: "JJAKEY" Tears rolled down your cheeks, the pleasure was so intense that it made you sob. he, seeing you so vulnerable and overwhelmed, degraded you with a satisfied grin. "God, you are so beautiful as you cry with pleasure for me … I want to see you like this every time I fuck you, every time, baby…" You pulled hard the sweaty tufts that fell on his forehead, trying to hold on to him as the only lifeline. When you opened your eyes slightly, you found him staring at you. His brown eyes had become dark with desire, but also full of love. He could no longer see the little girl chasing frogs in the clearing, no. In front of him was a woman. His woman. In a low voice, trembling and sincere, you whispered against his lips: "I love you ,Jake" His body shook over you. With a stronger hip snap he hit you in even deeper, making you moan loudly, as one of his hands lowered to tease your swollen clit. With a broken voice he degraded you again: "Then come, love… come around my cock as I fill you up, I want to feel you squeeze me tight as I cum inside you, make you mine forever…" In between sobs, you stuttered as you trembled.

"I can't take it anymore... I feel you up... to the stomach... I want you all, inside me... I want to come ... I just want you..." he growled softly upon hearing you, ducked even further on your body, pumping you faster and rougher, while pinching and massaging your clit.

You were breaking under the pleasure, the tension that mounted unstoppable, until you exploded around him with a cry that seemed to tear through the air. You felt his cock throb violently inside you, his hot seed filling you out of control, while he moaned your name against your neck. You could feel it dripping, the hot strands of cum running down your trembling thighs, as he squeezed hard against you, whispering in your ear:

"You are perfect ... You are mine...I love you..." His thoughts were a gentle and fierce storm:

There is nothing else for me. Just her. Just my girlfriend. Just my princess.

And your heart was racing mad thinking the same thing: Just him. Justake Forever.

Jake remained completely buried deep, as you felt his warm, abundant seed flood you, slowly dripping as his labored breathing mingled with yours. He made you moan still faintly just because of the way his cock throbbed inside you, as if his body also wanted to stick together with yours forever. Her hair was tickling on your shoulder, and his face was hidden in your neck, wet with sweat and kisses. In a hoarse, low voice, he whispered to you:

"I don't want to get out of you anymore, bay" As he spoke, he still pushed his cock slightly inside you, making you moan louder, a mixture of pleasure and sweet agony. Then he added dirt, growling softly against the skin: "You are my little slut to spoil... my little doll to fill up until you feel full of me ... You are made only for me, baby..."

Your legs instinctively tightened around his, trapping him even more inside you. he giggled against your neck, his voice glowing with love and pleasure: "Sadist ... You are my personal little sadist, my love..."

After a few minutes, he pushed himself out of you very slowly. His hard, shiny cock slid out, letting go of all the sticky threads of his semen that trickled down your thighs, dirty and shaking.

The sensation made you shiver and smile at the same time. With a small movement of his wand, Jake conjured a damp, warm cloth. With infinite tenderness, he gently cleaned you, caressing the inside of your thigh while planting little kisses between your belly and hips. Then he passed his sweatshirt over your head, dressing you with a tender and protective gesture, pulling you against his chest. Jake held you as if he wanted to merge with you, his scent mixed with yours being the most beautiful thing you'd ever smelled. He wrapped you in his strong arms, like a loving bear, and chuckled against your hair: "I never imagined I'd fall in love with the girl chasing frogs in the enchanted clearing… or the crazy one who chose magical astrophysics just because… I was the professor's student." You burst out laughing and pinched his side. "Conceited! Astrophysics is a serious subject; I didn't pick it because of some idiot Australian obsessed with Quidditch!" Jake laughed softly, his body trembling gently against yours. He propped himself up slightly on one elbow, gazed into your eyes with that warm look, and placed a small, tender kiss on your forehead. With a whisper, he said, "I love you, baby… truly…" Your eyes moistened again, but this time it was only happiness. You smiled at him and replied softly, your heart bursting, "I love you too, Jake… so much…" You cuddled a little longer, while the magic of the Room of Requirement seemed to protect you from everything else in the world. Then, with a small grimace, Jake ran a hand through his still-sweaty hair and mumbled, "Maybe it’s time to ask your brother for permission to date you…" You bit your tongue between your teeth and gave him another pinch on the side, making him jump. "You’re a bit late, Sim. You should have asked before… well, how should I put it… leaving me breathless." Jake laughed heartily, the sound you loved more than anything else, and pulled you back against him, holding you tight as if he wanted to shield you from the whole world. And you fell asleep there, in his arms, knowing you’d never feel more loved than that.

It had been a week since that night when you and Jake had finally let go—body and soul. A week since you realized it wasn’t just desire, wasn’t just magic or attraction: it was love. You had seen it in his eyes, felt it in the way he whispered your name, and above all, in the way he held you afterward as if he never wanted to let you go.

But there was still one last constellation to face… one last complicated spell: your brother, Heeseung.

Fiercely protective, to the point of obsession, he had always been the silent guardian of your freedom. You and Jake hadn’t yet found the courage to tell him, and maybe, deep down, you hoped you wouldn’t have to. But real magic—the powerful kind, the kind that moves planets and hearts—can’t be hidden for long.

That day, you and Jake had changed spots. Your usual corner beneath the Astronomy Tower had been discovered by Jareth—and, along with him, half the Academy. So you moved beneath the Eastern Tower, a quieter place where lanterns floated lazily and the abandoned telescopes made you feel small beneath the universe.

Jake sat cross-legged on the blanket laid out over the enchanted grass, and you, robes slightly parted and hair tousled by the wind, were perched on his strong thighs, your knees on either side of his waist. You were supposed to be studying—or at least trying to.

“Repeat after me: what’s the incantation to summon Aurum Draco, the Golden Dragon constellation?”

“Easy,” you said with a sly smile, “Stellae Draconis, lux eterna, revelate praesentiam tuam.”

He smiled and kissed you softly beneath your ear.

“Very good,” he murmured. “Now, what’s the symbolic meaning of the Nox Corvus constellation?”

You hesitated.

“It symbolizes... the shadow of truth? No, the deceit in knowledge? Or—”

He gently pinched the inside of your thigh. “Getting distracted, aren’t you?”

You laughed softly, your warm breath brushing his neck. He laughed too—that deep, low laugh that made your insides vibrate. It felt like being trapped in an enchanted bubble, where the only reality was his hands gripping your hips and his gaze devouring you like you were the only constellation he ever wanted to memorize.

Then came the difficult question.

“Tell me about Lirae Serpentis.”

Your eyes widened and lit up. That was his favorite. You started gesturing, your hands dancing in the air as you described the shape of the ancient sky-serpent, its connection to healing magic and eternal promises. Jake’s eyes grew glassy as you spoke, enchanted, as if every word you said made the sky more beautiful. Eventually, he couldn’t resist anymore. He pulled you closer and kissed you with all the sweetness—and hunger—that only true love can bring. He held you tight, one hand steady on your back, the other supporting you beneath your thighs. And in that moment, time stopped. A sharp sound, a breath caught. A heartbeat suspended in the air. Heeseung. He had just passed by the tower, but something had made him look—maybe your voice, or maybe just cruel fate. He saw everything: you, gesturing passionately, your body curled over his best friend’s, Jake’s hands on you, your kiss—long, deep, honest. And he… assumed the worst. As if Jake had cast a dark spell on you. As if he had taken advantage of your vulnerability. As if that love was something you needed to be protected from. -Y/n!- he shouted, his voice sharp, like a spell ready to explode. You turned abruptly, heart in your throat. Jake instinctively shielded you with his arms, but Heeseung was already upon you. He shoved Jake back with force, sending him rolling off the blanket. -You’re touching my sister? Have you lost your mind?!- Jake got up immediately, but he didn’t react with anger. He looked Heeseung straight in the eyes, his gaze steady and glassy. “She’s not just your sister,” he said calmly. “She’s the girl I love.” The magic in the air trembled. And that’s when you, still trembling, stood up and placed yourself between them. You looked Heeseung in the eyes and, with the calm of someone who doesn’t ask for permission—but demands respect—you said: “And I love him. He’s who I want to be with. There’s no dark magic here, no trickery—just truth.” Heeseung didn’t respond right away. He simply stared at you both, his chest rising and falling as he tried to separate reality from fear. Finally, he looked away. -Maybe I’m the one who needs to learn a new constellation,- he muttered. -The one where my little sister becomes a woman.- And he walked away, leaving behind a silent trail of shifting stars.

You turned to follow him, your legs still shaking, but Jake stopped you with a whisper and a gentle caress on your wrist. “Let him go, love. He needs time.” You turned to face him, eyes glassy, throat tight with unshed words. You leaned into his chest, listening to the familiar, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You held his hand, searching for an answer that could soothe you, for a truth to lift the weight off your chest. “Did you ruin everything?” you asked in a whisper. Jake didn’t answer right away. He gently lifted your chin with two fingers, those amber eyes you’d known your whole life—since you were a child watching him play Quidditch with your brother, those same eyes that made your heart race once you realized he was no longer just Hee’s friend—looking right into yours. “It takes two,” he said softly. “And we didn’t ruin anything. The heart doesn’t follow rules.” Then he kissed your forehead with a gesture that felt like both a promise and protection. You nodded, closing your eyes. In that moment, even if everything else seemed to be falling apart, you felt safe.

But the days that followed were hard. Heeseung stopped speaking to Jake. He’d said sharp, bitter, angry things. -I never thought you’d betray me like this,” he told him. “You took everything from her. Even her innocence.- Jake didn’t reply right away, but when he did, his voice trembled slightly. “She’s not a child anymore. She’s a woman. And I… I love her. Truly.” When Heeseung found out that even his girlfriend—your best friend—had known all along about the secret meetings, the stolen touches beneath the stars, he felt even more alone. Even his circle of friends had known. And he hadn’t. He felt blind. Betrayed. Foolish. That evening, after training, he went to the Quidditch pitch alone. He always did that when he needed to think, broom slung over his shoulder, eyes turned to the sky. Jake found him there, stopping him before he could disappear into the locker room. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Can we talk?” Heeseung looked at him—tired, sweaty, and wounded in his pride. -What now, need another tip on how to sneak into my sister’s bed?- Jake didn’t flinch. He raised his hands in surrender, that golden-retriever softness trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, that was harsh… but I deserved it. Still—I miss you. I miss talking to you. You’re my best friend, damn it.” Heeseung stared for a few more seconds, then sighed and sat down in the stands. Jake sat beside him, leaving a bit of space between them. “I need you to know something,” Jake said sincerely. “I’m serious about your sister. This isn’t a game. I’ve been thinking about her for months. About how the sky looks at her when she walks. About how she laughs when she messes up a spell. I want the best for her. And I want to be there—for all of it. As his friend. As his partner. As whatever she needs.” Heeseung stayed quiet. Then he turned to him, face more serious than ever. -If I see her cry—even once—because of you… you’re off the team. Got it?- Jake straightened, solemn, hand to forehead. “Yes, Captain.” Heeseung shoved him, laughing, and Jake let himself fall over dramatically. -Idiot,- Hee muttered. Jake sat up again, face suddenly more serious. “Can I make it official? A real date. With your sister.” Heeseung looked at him, sighed, and then glanced up at the sky. -One. And if you take her to some cheap, sleazy place, I swear I’ll hex you into sneezing snot bubbles for a week.- “Deal!” Jake grinned, and the two of them hugged—one of those strong embraces between people who’ve messed up, but don’t want to lose each other. The kind of hug that proves some battles aren’t won with magic, but with the heart.

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Rebblog and comments are appreciated

#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfic #enhypen drabbles #jake sim x reader #jake imagines #jake x reader #jake smut #sim jake x reader #sim jaeyun imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen smut #enhypen hyung line #enhypen hard hours #enhypen headcanons #harry potter au #harry potter

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aquaholicsanonymousworld · 4 months ago

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High-Value Target

Pairing: Task force 141 x Soldier!Reader

The briefing room was buzzing with anticipation.

Task Force 141 rarely got new blood, and even when they did, it was usually some solid operator with passable skills—not the kind of legend they were about to meet. The dossier on the table was immaculate. Flawless mission execution, unrivaled hand-to-hand combat skills, top of her class in advanced recon and assassination. Even Ghost, who barely gave out praise, muttered a low, “Bloody hell.” when he skimmed through the stats.

Soap whistled, flipping through the pages. “Whoever this guy is, he’s a machine.”

“More like a ghost,” Gaz added. “Been attached to multiple high-profile operations, all with near-perfect outcomes.” He glanced at Price. “How the hell did we even land them?”

Price smirked, arms crossed. “Favors. Strings pulled. And a bit of luck.”

The door to the room opened, and all eyes flicked up—ready to meet the highly anticipated new operator.

And then she walked in.

Silence.

Ghost leaned back slightly in his chair. Soap sat up straighter. Gaz blinked like he’d been hit with a flashbang.

The guy they had all been hyping up? Not a guy at all.

She was American, too. That was the second shock.

She stood confidently, expression unreadable as her gaze swept the room, taking in each of them like she was assessing a threat. Her movements were deliberate, controlled, the kind of presence that told them all she was just as deadly as her file made her out to be.

Soap was the first to recover. “You’re… not what I was expectin’.”

She arched a brow. “What were you expecting?”

“Someone less… eh, distracting.” His grin was pure mischief.

Gaz scoffed. “He means someone ugly.”

Her lips curled slightly, but she didn’t entertain the joke. “Disappointed?”

“Far from it,” Ghost murmured.

Price cleared his throat, stepping forward. “You’re a long way from home, Sergeant.”

She turned her attention to him, offering a sharp salute. “Not the first time, sir.”

Price gave a nod of approval before the rest of the team jumped in.

“So, what do we call you?” Gaz asked. “Your file just has your last name.”

Soap rubbed his chin, eyeing her with a smirk. “I’m thinkin’… Yankee.”

Groans echoed around the table.

“That’s terrible.” Gaz shook his head.

“You’re terrible.”

“She’s from America, aye? It fits.”

She rolled her eyes. “Call me whatever you want, just don’t get in my way.”

Soap grinned. “Oh, I like her.”

Before anyone could throw out another nickname, Ghost leaned back in his seat and drawled, “Ace.”

A pause.

Gaz nodded. “That’s actually decent.”

Soap pouted but relented. “Alright, alright. Ace it is.”

The banter continued—multiple offers for drinks, jokes about whether she was single, and Soap loudly declaring that Ghost had competition for brooding dominance. It took Price stepping in to get them back in line.

“Enough,” he barked, glaring at his men. “You’re soldiers, not a damn welcome committee.”

A few chuckles. No real apologies.

Then, to her surprise, Price turned to her. “Ace, with me.”

She followed him out of the room, a bit curious as to why he wanted a private word. The second the door shut, he let out a slow breath and gave her a look she couldn’t quite read.

“You alright with all that?”

She smirked. “I’ve handled worse.”

“I don’t doubt it.” His gaze lingered for a moment before he straightened, voice dropping to something lower, quieter. “I’d tell you to ignore their flirting, but…” He exhaled. “That’d be hypocritical of me.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “…Sir?”

His jaw flexed, then a slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

“Dinner. My treat.”

She tilted her head, considering him. “Is this an order?”

Price chuckled. “No, Ace. It’s an invitation.”

For the first time, she was the one caught off guard.

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lemonmaid · 7 months ago

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Poly Task Force x Adopted Reader

Warnings: fluff, omegaverse, obv platonic, gender neutral

It was the middle of the night when John got the call that their pup was born.

Cue everyone stumbling out of bed, grabbing last minute items, re checking the car-seat for the hundredth time, and making sure they are dressed for first impressions.

Kyle is nervously tapping his leg, John is walking up and down the hallway, Johnny is fighting the urge to check with a nurse for the fifth time, Simon has his hands clenched as he goes through ciggerate withdraws (he made a commitment to stop smoking before you arrived).

Finally after only an hour, the nurses made the boys follow them into a room where they had set up for the pack bonding period.

The tears that feel when the boys held you for the first time, the heavy tears that fell when they started to do skin to skin scenting.

Let's make it clear, John is the pack alpha and Simon is the head omega. Johnny is also an omega and Kyle is the pack beta. It was Simon who said he wanted pups, but do a mission that happened a while back it made it nearly impossible to have pups of his own. Johnny said he didn't want to be pregnant, "lose his muscles and good looks".

The first few days in that room with you was heaven and hell, I mean, you were a baby you're supposed to cry and scream on the top of your lungs.

When they took you home, it seemed like all you needed was their scents instead of the hospital sanitation. They didn't want you sleeping by yourself but they knew the dangers of co-sleeping so they settled on having the bassinet next to the bed. They got you the fancy one,

They all made an agreement that since they are still in service that two will be shipped out and two will stay home with you, so you can grow up with structure.

Luckily Simon and John's terms were almost up, how convenient timing.

Now, Simon being head omega ment that he was kinda of your main parent (along with John). He was there for most of your firsts, when your teeth came in, when you started crawling, hell he was so proud that you called Johnny "Dada".

Simon and John were the "bad cops" even though they didn't want to, it just kinda happened. Johnny was always enabling you, Kyle was there as support for either team.

There was only a few times where Simon felt bad for being strict, when you were a toddler you had a problem like every other kid with hitting, you kept hitting poor John awake. Not wanting the bad behavior to continue, he scruffed you, causing a two hour tantrum that only stop when you cried yourself to sleep.

Simon felt really bad, but scruffing pups was normal, it just so happened it was the first time you were scruffed.

As you grew, your milky pup scent started to fade, Johnny was the first one to notice this when he did the laundry. He cried for days, hell he even put one of the shirts in a bag and wrapped it up. That's when the talks of having another pup in the house.

You were always smiling, always full of energy. You lit up the boys life, they couldn't have it any other way.

They love you so much.

#simon riley x reader #john price x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #poly task force 141 #task force 141 imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #child reader #platonic task force 141

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bagofshinyrocks · 2 years ago

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The Whole Bakery

Prompt: How will the boys respond to an S/O who slaps their ass out of nowhere? [Requested by @airghostlyfox]

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: expletives; lightly suggestive content

There he was. Making his morning cup of coffee. Comfortable sleep clothes and sluggish movement. Your handsome partner.

He had finally freed himself from the blanket web and your comfortable arms, with the intent to go through most of his “honey-do” list that weekend.

And he was so unaware.

That your arm was winding up for a powerful smack to his ass.

John Price

The sound was not as impressive due to his sweatpants, but the way he jerked and slowly put down the things in his hands was reward enough. He did not appreciate it. And he did not turn around.

“Luv,” he said in an even tone. “What the hell was that?”

You rubbed the offended cheek with the same hand, deciding against pinching, as he would win any fight you started.

“My darling John. Your ass is just so wonderful, I can’t help myself.”

Both hands gently squeezed his ass. And you pressed an apologetic kiss between his bare shoulder blades.

“You’ve got the whole bakery right here, bubba.” Gentle pats. Still no movement of his neck. “All these buns.”

Finally, he turned around.

He was trying very hard not to smile. Trying not to encourage you. But goddamn, did you look pleased with yourself. Strong arms wrapped around your middle, pressing you to his chest.

“You are-” Kiss. “Such a flirt.” Kiss. “And absolutely shameless.”

You kissed him back and lazily threw your arms over his shoulders.

Behind you, his arm raised itself and smacked your ass as hard as he possibly could. You folded into him with a yelp.

“GOD FUCKIN–!”

Simon Riley

The moment your hand left his cheek, he had turned on you and grabbed you under the armpits.

“Uh oh” was all you had the chance to say before he dragged you off to the nearest wall. He was smiling, but it was the smile that meant you were still in trouble. You chuckled nervously as he settled you against the wall, caging you in and leaning in close.

“You are a cheeky one,” he purred.

“Yessir.”

“Any particular reason we’re playful this morning?”

You wriggled your arms out of his grip, and settled your hands over his ass again. He let you, one of his fingers tapping your nose.

“Well, if you must know, Simon,” you said, adopting a matter-of-fact tone. “It is because your ass is just so delicious looking.”

He snorted at your blunt words and hid his eyes with his hand.

“Bloody hell.”

“I mean, just look at it, lover.” You firmly gripped his ass, squeezing ever so slightly. “All this cake.”

He sighed, but he was still laughing. You’re adorable. He loves you.

Kyle Garrick

You didn’t smack too, too hard. A peace offering for walking around in his boxers and nothing else. Your favorite outfit on him.

But he still jumped and gave you a dirty look.

“It is 8 in the morning, you shit.”

You turned him back around and massaged his ass, humming a cheerful tune. “I’m just gonna knead this yummy dough, don’t mind me.”

“You a cat? Making biscuits?”

You giggled and kissed the back of his neck.

“Oh, have you got some biscuits on you, loverboy.”

He couldn’t help but laugh into his cup, turning himself around and pulling you into his embrace. Soft, coffee-flavored kisses. Then his arms snaking lower, and his own hands settling on your ass.

“I think that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.”

“Sweeter than ‘I love you’?”

He squeezed your ass and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

“Mm,” he sighed into your mouth. “Tied for first.”

You pulled back and narrowed your eyes.

“What? Oh, right. I love you, too, baby.”

Johnny MacTavish

Of all the boys, he has no right to complain. A chronic ass-slapper. Repeat offender groper. Can’t sleep without one hand one you, be it your arm, your stomach, or your leg.

He was singing some song to himself, dancing a little. Background noise that kept him from hearing you until it was too late.

“Steaming bloody-”

You hit him too hard. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. You ducked out of his grasp and started pleading for forgiveness.

“Baby, I’m sorry, that was harder than I meant. I’m sorry. I’m sor- shit.”

A mad scramble around the kitchen island. Never had you run away from your bare-chested Scotsman so quickly.

“Get your arse back here!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Fuck you mean-” He vaulted over the island and you screamed. Like a bird of prey, he grabbed you and dragged you to the couch, falling on top of you with all his weight.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you wheezed.

He smothered your face and neck in kisses, and accepted your apology. He would get you back later. With less force but greater number of ass slaps. You were sure of it.

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Posted: 2023 Dec 12

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oaksgrove · 5 months ago

Text

The Best-Kept Secret.

Pairing: Platonic!Task Force 141 x married!Reader

Synopsis: The team always thought you were an enigma—a shadow on and off the field, a soldier with no loose ends. Until a mission in Switzerland leads them to an unexpected discovery: you’re not just seeing someone. You’re married. And while they’ve spent years in combat, dodging bullets and chasing warlords, you’ve been coming home to a soft-spoken bookstore owner who reads you poetry and kisses your forehead. Now, Soap is spiraling, Gaz is amused, Ghost is quietly impressed, and Price is—well, Price already knew, didn’t he?

Warnings: Found family fluff, ridiculous levels of espionage for something completely unnecessary, Soap in emotional distress, Price being the wise dad, and Elias being disgustingly romantic.

Word Count: 2512

The mission in Switzerland had been a success. A long, grueling success, but a success nonetheless. The team was tired, ready to return to base, but as they walked through the crisp, cold streets of a quiet Swiss town,something about you was different.

You weren’t trudging along like the rest of them.

No.

You were practically floating.

You shrugged a little too casually. “Just gonna swing by an old friend’s place. Haven’t seen ‘em in years.”

Price’s sharp gaze flicked to you. Ghost barely tilted his head, but you could feel his stare.

“An old friend, huh?” Gaz asked, crossing his arms.

Price hummed, unimpressed. “That so?”

“Yep,” you said too quickly. “Won’t be long.”

Gaz watched as you adjusted your gloves, the tiny, barely-contained excitement in your movements betraying you. He glanced at Ghost, who tilted his head ever so slightly. They all knew you weren’t lying, not really—but you were definitely hiding something.

You weren’t reckless. You weren’t prone to wandering off alone after missions. And more importantly, you weren’t good at masking excitement.

So, naturally, the boys followed you.

“We’re not seriously doin’ this,” Gaz whispered as they tailed you through the quiet streets.

“Oh, we absolutely are,” Soap shot back, ducking behind a parked car.

Ghost sighed, but he was still here, wasn’t he?

Price—who should have been above this nonsense—was also present, watching you with the kind of intrigue usually reserved for high-value targets.

They kept their distance, moving like shadows through the quiet streets, watching as you walked—not with the usual alertness of a soldier, but with an uncharacteristic lightness. Your shoulders were loose, your pace unhurried, and there was something about your expression—

A smile.

A real one. Not the usual smirk, not the practiced mask you wore in the field, but something soft and genuine, capable of lighting up the entire street.

Soap actually stumbled at the sight. “Bloody hell. She’s glowing.”

Gaz nudged him. “Keep your voice down. She’s happy about something.” noting the bounce in your step, the way you didn’t check your surroundings like you normally would. You weren’t scanning for threats, weren’t walking with the stiff alertness of a soldier.

You looked… soft.

Gaz squinted. “She’s giddy.”

Price stroked his beard, thoughtful. Ghost remained silent, though his eyes tracked every movement.

Then, you stopped.

At a bakery.

The team exchanged confused glances as they watched you step inside, the shop’s warmth fogging up the glass. A few moments later, you emerged with a small paper bag and two hot chocolates.

Soap narrowed his eyes. “Two?”

Gaz raised an eyebrow. “Why two?”

Price stroked his beard. Ghost tilted his head.

And then, they watched as you walked—still smiling, still oblivious to the four highly-trained operators tailing you.

Your pace was slow, relaxed, happy. Like you had all the time in the world. Like you were walking toward something you wanted.

Price had muttered, “She’s meeting someone important.”

And then…

The bookstore.

The moment you reached the door, something shifted.

Soap squinted. “Hold on. Why is it closed?”

The bookstore was dark, the Closed sign hanging in the window. No other customers inside.

And yet—

When you knocked, the door unlocked almost instantly.

A man let you in, smiling as if he’d been waiting just for you.

Tall, dark-haired, charming beard, handsome in a way that wasn’t loud, but deeply noticeable. His glasses sat low on his nose, like he’d been reading before you arrived.

And the moment he saw you, his entire posture softened.

The tension in his shoulders melted, his lips twitching into a familiar smile.

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek.

And the team lost their collective minds.

You handed him the hot chocolate, your own smile bright and warm. He kissed the back of your hand before leading you inside.

Gaz made a choking noise. “She knocked.”

Soap ran a hand down his face. “He closed the whole damn store for her?”

Ghost tilted his head. “It’s… romantic.”

Soap shot him a betrayed look. “Not helping.”

Inside, the two of you walked past the counter, weaving between bookshelves like you’d done it a hundred times before.

He guided you to a corner booth near the window. You were curled into his side, head resting against his chest, the two of you pressed together in that way people do when they don’t even realize they’re gravitating toward each other.

The man picked up a book he had been reading, flipping it open.

Then, as if this whole thing wasn’t already a slap in the face, he started reading to you.

Like you had never left.

Like this was a routine.

Like he had been waiting for you to come home.

And you let him.

His voice was low and warm as he murmured something in your ear, making you laugh softly. You nudged him in mock protest, but your eyes shone with affection. And without even breaking conversation, he broke off a piece of your pastry and held it up to your lips.

And you ate it without hesitation.

Didn’t grab it. Didn’t protest. Just let him feed you.

Ghost muttered, “She’s so in love, it’s bizarre.”

“She lied to us.” Soap muttered, pacing.

“She didn’t lie,” Gaz reasoned. “She just… omitted small details.”

Ghost crossed his arms. “She omitted a whole man.”

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, let’s leave her be.”

Soap whipped around. “Are you joking? After all the mystery? After all the secrecy? And it turns out she’s—what? In love?”

Gaz smirked. “It’s kinda sweet, actually.”

Soap gestured wildly toward the bookshop. “Sweet? SWEET? She’s been sneaking off to a romance novel!”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed. “Wait.”

They all turned back toward the window just in time to see it.

And then—The man reached for the chain around his neck.

Soap squinted. “What’s he doing?”

The man—your husband, they were realizing—slid a ring from the necklace and onto your finger.

Like he had done this before.

Like it had always belonged there.

Ghost exhaled. “Oh.”

Soap made a strangled noise. “No.”

Gaz physically grabbed his arm before he could storm the building. “Mate. Don’t.”

Inside, you ran your fingers over the edge of your ring, smiling softly as he kissed your temple.

This wasn’t new.

This was familiar.

This was home.

Soap put his hands on his knees, trying to breathe. “She’s been married this whole time?”

Gaz leaned back, hands on his hips. “Well, shit.”

Price muttered, “How long?” like a man trying to process an entire alternate reality.

Soap was glaring at nothing. “We’ve been working with her for years. You’re telling me she’s been married this entire time?”

Ghost hummed. “Apparently.”

Soap pointed accusingly at the window. “She doesn’t even wear a ring on duty!”

“Yeah,” Ghost said dryly. “Because she didn’t want us to know.”

They watched as you laughed again, head tilting back slightly as your husband—your actual, literal husband—gently nudged your nose with his.

It was the kind of touch that wasn’t just casual.

It was muscle memory.

Gaz exhaled. “That’s real.”

Soap groaned. “I need to sit down.”

Ghost slapped his shoulder. “You’re already sitting.”

Soap groaned louder.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

The weight of it all settled in, each man processing the absolute bombshell you had just unknowingly dropped on them.

You, the enigma of Task Force 141.

You, who had kept your past tightly locked away.

You, who never shared too much about your personal life.

And yet—here you were, sitting in a small bookstore in Switzerland, drinking hot chocolate with a man who so clearly knew every piece of you.

Price sighed, finally standing straight. “Alright.”

Gaz looked at him. “Alright?”

Price glanced back at the window, then at his team. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

Soap made a furious noise. “You’re just fine with this?”

Price gave him a look. The Captain look. “What exactly are you upset about, Johnny? That she didn’t tell us, or that she’s happy?”

Soap opened his mouth—paused—then closed it.

Gaz smirked. “Damn.”

Ghost, still watching you, nodded once. “If it was anyone else, I’d be concerned.”

Soap huffed. “He better be worth it.”

Ghost tilted his head. “Seems like he is.”

Inside, you ran your fingers over the edge of your ring, eyes soft as your husband kissed your temple.

Price exhaled. “Come on. Let’s give them their moment.”

And though Soap grumbled the whole way back, he didn’t argue.

Not this time.

Because despite the shock, the secrecy, and the absolute mindfuck of it all, you deserved this and none of them were about to ruin it.

The evening stretched on inside the small bookstore, wrapped in the kind of warmth that had nothing to do with the heater humming softly in the corner. The cold outside felt like a distant memory, replaced by the cozy cocoon of soft lighting, the faint scent of old paper, and the gentle hum of Elias’s voice as he read aloud from a worn book, his fingers tracing idle patterns against the back of your hand.

The world beyond those four walls didn’t exist. Not the mission, not the war, not the team you knew were drinking in some pub outside.

Just him.

Your husband.

Eventually, reality crept back in—the faint awareness that time was slipping away.

You sighed, your fingers tightening around his. “I should go.”

Elias closed the book gently, setting it aside without breaking eye contact. “Already?”

The disappointment in his voice was soft but unmistakable, a subtle ache beneath the warmth. He reached out, cupping your face in his large hand, his thumb brushing softly along your cheekbone.

“You just got here,” he whispered, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, letting the comfort of him sink in. “I know.”

Elias’s other hand found your waist, pulling you gently closer until you were tucked into his chest, his bearded chin resting atop your head. His embrace was all-consuming, his arms wrapped around you like a shield, like he could hold back the world if he just squeezed tightly enough.

“You’ll be careful?” he murmured against your hair, his voice low and rough with emotion.

You smiled softly against his chest. “Always.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes warm and full of a quiet, fierce love. “I don’t care how good you are out there,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, “just… come back to me.”

Your heart twisted, the words threading through you like a quiet plea. You reached up, cradling his face between your hands, your fingers brushing through the soft edges of his beard.

“I always do,” you whispered back.

And then he kissed you—slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world, like the world outside didn’t exist. His hands framed your face, gentle despite their size, grounding you in a way nothing else ever could.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and reluctant, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

You slipped the ring off your finger, threading it back onto the chain around his neck. It felt like a promise—silent but understood.

He caught your hand before you could step back, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering as if letting go was the hardest thing in the world.

You smiled softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

His reply was simple but full of weight. “I’ll be here.”

With one last glance, you turned and left, the cold air biting at your face as the door shut softly behind you.

You barely made it through the door before chaos descended.

They knew everything.

Elias Schneider. Bookstore owner. Former Professor. Linguist.

Gaz held up the Google search results like a declassified CIA file. “Big on philosophy and poetry.”

Soap snatched the phone. “So you’re telling me—while we’ve been getting shot at, crawling through mud, dodging missiles—she’s been coming home to some soft-spoken bookstore bloke who reads her poetry?”

Ghost hummed. “Explains the forehead kisses.”

Price exhaled. “Christ. That explains a lot.”

The moment your boots hit the threshold, all four of them were waiting—Soap leaning against the table with his arms crossed, Gaz perched on the arm of the couch, Ghost standing silently in the corner, and Price sitting with that annoyingly calm expression, like he’d been expecting this moment all along.

You didn’t even have time to take off your coat.

“Well,” Soap started, his eyes narrowing as he straightened up, “have a nice visit with your old friend?”

You paused mid-step, arching a brow. “Really?”

Gaz grinned. “Oh yeah. We’re doing this.”

You sighed, letting your bag drop with a soft thud. “You followed me.”

Soap didn’t even try to deny it. “Of course we did! You think we wouldn’t notice you floating down the street like you were starring in some bloody Hallmark movie?”

Price leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “You were glowing.”

Ghost remained silent, but the tilt of his head spoke volumes.

You shrugged out of your coat slowly, pretending to be unbothered, even as heat crept up your neck. “I wasn’t glowing.”

Gaz snorted. “Mate, you were a walking Lifetime christmas movie advertisement.”

Soap pushed off the table, pacing dramatically. “And the pastries! Two hot chocolates with little hearts on the cups? Little hearts, for Christ’s sake!”

You rolled your eyes. “So? Maybe I was just—”

“Oh, don’t even start,” Soap cut in, pointing an accusatory finger. “We saw you. In the bookstore. With the giant.”

Gaz chimed in, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “You kissed him.”

Ghost finally spoke, his voice low and even. “And the ring.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

You sighed, running a hand down your face. “Unbelievable.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed. “How long?”

You crossed your arms, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “None of your business.”

“Oh, it’s very much our business now,” Gaz said, leaning forward with a smirk. “You’ve been married this whole time?”

Price, still calm but clearly amused, added, “We’re just curious. For… team cohesion.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “You’re all insufferable.”

Soap grinned. “But you love us.”

You didn’t answer, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth was enough.

Price finally stood, patting your shoulder as he passed. “He seems like a good man.”

You paused, glancing at him. “He is.”

And for once, the room settled—no more teasing, no more interrogation. Just a quiet understanding.

But not for long.

“Wait,” Soap blurted out suddenly, turning back to you. “Does he read to you?”

You groaned. “I’m leaving.”

And as you disappeared down the hall, their laughter echoed behind you, filling the safe house with a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat.

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