#but to start with he would be 100% behind them

[loves0phelia]

hi! I wanted to request a cute jj fic where they’re just being cute together and he’s overprotective (can you base it off an episode in the series?)

thanksss!

Risking

Summery: Moments JJ risked his life to protect you.

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: near death experiences, grammar mistakes.

A/N: I'm like 100% sure this is not what you meant but this is what i came up with, thank you for requesting xxx (for anyone that requested i will do them all eventually, might just take time)

JJ was always protective of his friends no matter what, whether it was in a fight, an argument or just a small altercation, he was ready to protect. But with you, it was quite different. He wasn't just protective, he was ready to kill to assure your safety. He followed behind you wherever you went like a personal guard. He would do anything to shield you from any harm.

The first time you noticed just how much he was committed to your protection, was during the Kegger at the beach. You and him had begun dating a couple of months prior and it was the first beach party of the summer, where kooks, pogues and torons met to have a good time.

“Hey, y/n! How are you doing?” Your head turns when you hear the call of your name. You notice  Topper, Rafe, and Kelce approaching. Their presence quickly becomes hard to ignore. They are always looking for trouble, even when there is none.

“Oh, uhm I'm good Rafe, thank you for asking” You began looking around for the familiar head of blond hair you loved combing your fingers through but only failing.

“Looking for someone?” It was now topper's time to speak up.

“Actually yes, I'm looking for JJ-”

“Yeah I don't actually care, you want a drink?” Topper smirked, a glint of arrogance in his eye; it was in no way comforting. It was malicious.

“No thanks, I'm not drinking tonight…” You slowly start backing up feeling cornered by the trio.

“Relax, we’re just being friendly. Have a drink with us. Unless, of course, you’re too good for that. But you won't deny a free drink, right, pogue?” Topper pushed and almost shoved the red plastic Solo cup filled with beer that tasted like pee in your face.

“What the fuck is going on here” Sighing in relief, A weight was lifted off your shoulder when you heard his voice coming up behind you. You turned to see JJ striding over, eyes hard and jaw clenched. His gaze flicked from you to the three boys, warning in his stare.

“There you are, we were just offering your little bitch of a girlfriend a drink, isn't that right y/n?” Topper laughed, feigning innocence. 

JJ didn’t back down, his voice low but clear. “The fuck did you just call her?.”

Topper took a step closer, his grin mocking. “I called her a bitch. What are you gonna do about it, tough guy?” He laughed and earned a slap on the back from Rafe.

Before anyone could process what was happening, JJ's fist was swinging toward Topper landing a solid punch across his jaw.

The air was thick with tension, and you instinctively took a step back—until Rafe's hand caught your arm, gripping tight.

“Let go of me!” you snapped, trying to pull free.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” Seeing you struggle, JJ’s face darkened

JJ lunged toward Rafe as Topper troubles to stand from the sand still winded from the hit he received. Then, In a second everyone at the party began circling the fight.

Both blond boys punched and kicked around earning cheers from the crowd surrounding.

“Stop!” John B and Pope push through and quickly pull JJ off the bloodied Rafe.

“Lay a hand on her again, and you’re dead. Got it!?” He screamed at his face before getting completely pulled off.

JJ’s demeanour softened as soon as He turned to you, “Hey, you alright?” he asked, gently brushing his fingers over the red handprint on your arm.

You let out a relieved breath, meeting his concerned gaze. “I’m fine, thank you,” you whispered, slowly raising your tippy toes to press a delicate kiss on his cheek.

His hand raised to your cheeks and pulled you into a proper kiss before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and bringing you away from everyone. He couldn't wait to lay in bed close to you.

the second time you noticed was when he was ready to take a bullet for you. You and your friend hadn't expected your summer to turn into a treasure-hunting adventure but here you were with a nugget of badly melted gold in your pocket on your way to a “warehouse”.

“Is there really a warehouse out here?” Your friend, Kiara asked, confused. The route you were on only had forest and maybe a couple of cabins nearby, no place where someone could be keeping 70k in cash.

“That's what she said, hehe that's what she said” JJ smirked and you from your spot on his lap slapped his thigh and gave him a warning but playful look.

‘Shut up” Pope said unimpressed which only made JJ's smile fall into a frown.

“Sorry baby,” You said and kissed the tip of his nose and his smile was back immediately. He had already forgotten his bad joke.

“Cops? out here?” Your little make-out session was interrupted by the flashing of the red and blue lights and siren.

“Hide the gold!” All the pogues panicked and tried acting as innocent as possible, but JJ only tightened his arms across your lower stomach holding you against him.

Barry appeared, his face hidden with a skull scarf, and in his hand was a shotgun. He raised it, pointing it directly at John B. in the driver's seat. You all froze, hearts pounding.

“Why don't you get out and raise those arms in the air” Barry sneered. “Right now!”

John B stepped out of the van, hands raised high in fear.

“Come everyone get out! Let's go”  Shaking you slowly got up from your place in JJ's lap and got out of the car.

“There you go pretty girl, hurry up!” He pointed the gun in your face, the barrel touching your forehead.

“Relax bro!” JJ jumped out after you and instinctively pushed you behind him. His face was dark with anger as he screamed. Your heart jumped in your throat when the gun shifted from you to him.

“Stay back bitch!” he shouted at JJ.

“Face down in the ditch, get down on your knees” He threatened with his gun and pushed down Pope's head as you all got down in the dirt.

After a short while, Barry went into the van and went looking for the gold but as he was searching John b got up and went into his car to ambush him.

Thankfully his plan worked and as soon as John B got the gun out of his hand you all rushed to help. JJ ran and punched him in the ribs, Kie punched his face, Sarah pulled the car door on his face twice and you kicked him as hard as you could where the sun dont't shine.

Barry spat, his anger mingled with a hint of fear now. “You’re dead for this. You hear me? All of you!” You all just took what he had stolen from you and left.

Later that night in bed pressed against JJ's stomach at the chateau you thought about the situation.

“You can't jump in front of me when there's a gun involved” You whispered and JJ's rubbing movement on your back stopped.

“the hell I can't” he scoffed.

“You're gonna get hurt badly if you keep protecting me.”

“It's my job to protect you, if something happens to you I will literally die, I can't live without you” His sentence made your head shoot up.

“You mean that?”

“You're the love of my life y/n, nothing matters more to me than you.” You carefully laid your head back down on his chest where you could hear his heartbeat and hugged him tight, almost wanting to crawl into his skin.

The third time you were out in open water, nowhere to turn, and adrenaline was coursing through your veins. Sarah had gotten kidnapped by her family and you and the rest of the pogues were on a mission to save her.

The boat pitched and swayed on the ocean. JJ and you stood side by side, backs pressed to the railing, as you faced off against Renfield, an employer of Ward Cameron. 

The man grinned wildly, holding a machete with a terrifying confidence, the blade shining menacingly in his hands. 

“JJ look out!” He lunged forward, machete raised, his eyes locked on JJ. Your heart leaped in fear, but JJ ducked, narrowly dodging the swing. The machete sliced through the air, missing by an inch.

Before he could make another move, you stepped in, launching a punch right into his nose throwing him off his balance. But he quickly got back up continuing the fight.

Before JJ could fully react, Renfield rushed forward, landing a brutal punch across his jaw. The force of the blow sent JJ stumbling backward, right up against the railing. Disoriented, he struggled to regain his balance.

His vision was blurry but he didn’t miss how The blunt end of the machete in the man's hand was making a beeline for your head.

“Y/N!” He lunged from the floor and pushed you out of the way. 

Your heart dropped to the bottom of your feet as you watched JJ topple backward receiving the hit that was initially meant for you, arms flailing as he plunged into the dark, icy water below.

“JJ!” you screamed, rushing to the side, your eyes frantically scanning the water for any sign of him. The boat rocked beneath you as you leaned over, the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

Without a second thought, you kicked the man and jumped in after your boyfriend.

“JJ!” You swam closer and closer until you reached his floating body, you held him and hugged him close to your body, elevating his face above the water.

“Please! John B.” You felt yourself sink further as you frantically moved your legs beneath you.

“Please, JJ I can't, I can't” You choked on the water filling your mouth.

As you sank several pairs of hands grabbed onto you and JJ pulled you onto a smaller boat when you realized your friends had saved you you rushed to JJ's side, begging, and shaking his shoulder attempting to bring him back.

“Please get up!” suddenly he began coughing up water and slowly opening his eyes.

“Oh my God” You sobbed and held his face gently with your hands.

“Sup” Everyone around you erupted in laughter and you laid your forehead on his chest giggling.   “Don’t… ever do that again,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

JJ chuckled weakly. “Can't promise anything”

You rolled your eyes, a smile breaking through despite the panic that still lingered. 

“I'm coming with you,” you argued.

“No you're not,” JJ said as he was putting his diving gear on.

“Yes, I am” You take the second wetsuit and start unzipping it.

“Hey, no” he takes it from your hands and puts it aside.

“Yes, JJ. I am going down with you whether you like it or not” Your tone hardens which took him aback, JJ rarely saw this bossy side of you, you were always soft-spoken and gentle or at least with him you were. 

After pulling on the suit and oxygen gear both you and JJ were ready to go down.

“Okay guys remember the safety stops, or else you get the bends” Pope warned and you both nodded.

The water was calm and clear. Underwater, everything was peaceful and quiet, the only sounds coming from the rhythmic hiss of your breathing through the scuba gear and the faint echo of distant waves above. It felt like a different isolated world.

He gestured to you, pointing toward a dark shape partially buried under a rocky overhang. You nodded, eyes bright under the goggles as you swam toward it, fins propelling you through the water. 

But before either of you could examine the wreckage further, a shadow passed over you, casting a sudden darkness across the sandy floor.

Just as you looked up, the unknown diver was on you. The stranger grabbed you by the shoulder, yanking you backward, forcing you to drop the small underwater flashlight you had been holding. 

“y/n!” JJ’s eyes widened as he took the spear he had brought down with him and stabbed the attacker without mercy. But that angered him. Quickly he turned and punched JJ, with his skills he swam quickly and locked JJ up in a room inside the wreck while he was disoriented, leaving you alone with the man.

“NO!” he yelled but it was muffled by the oxygen tube.

The stranger’s hands reached for you again, trying to get hold of your air tank, and when he did he cut off your oxygen supply. Your lungs burned instantly from the lack of oxygen and panic.    As soon as JJ managed his way out of the trap he was in, he shoved his regulator into your mouth, completely uncaring about his need for oxygen. He took your hand while you were taking desperate breaths and he kicked himself forward, rushing to the surface and escaping from the attacker.

As you broke through the water, you both gasped for breath and clung to each other, adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

“Are you okay!” His hands reached for your face, and you only weakly nodded.

“Talk to me please, baby” 

“I'm okay” You swam closer to him and he held you without daring to let go until John B was near.

When you finally reached the safety of the boat you and your boyfriend sat close. You were still panting, your chest heaving but as you took another breath, you felt a sudden, sharp pain twist through your chest.

"Guys, are you okay?" Kiara asked, noticing the pained expression on your face.

You tried to respond, but winced, feeling an intense, stabbing ache radiate from your joints to his abdomen. Your head spun, and you suddenly felt nauseous as though your blood had turned to acid. Panic flashed in Pope's eyes as he watched you and his best friend struggle, the realization hitting him hard. 

"They have the bends, we need to get them to the hospital" Pope and Cleo slid their arms around JJ's back lifting him up and John B. and Sarah did the same to you. 

JJ panicked at the sudden disconnection between you too, You were so close now so far apart because of your friends separating you. 

“y/n” JJ moaned as pain shot through his side.

“We're getting you both to the hospital!” pope shouted. The ride felt like thousands of hours, the pain was unbearable. 

"Almost there, guys, just hold on," Sarah encouraged, as she tried making you both take deep breaths. 

The van rattled down the dirt road, jostling you and JJ in the back as you leaned against each other, pale and clammy, both fighting the building pressure in your heads and chests. 

“go, go, go” one of your friends screamed and tore the van door open pulling you out of the car. You struggled through the hospital door and in a second you were shoved into a small, cramped hyperbaric chamber that was barely big enough to fit one person, let alone two.

After a couple of minutes of groaning, heavy breathing and twitching you both cooled down shoulders pressed against one another, his breath shallow and quick, matching your own in the tightness of the space. His fingers slid into yours sneakily.

JJ glanced over, a spark of guilt in his eyes as he shifted uncomfortably now tracing his fingers on your face. “I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from all this” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You met his gaze, his face so close you could see every freckle on his sun-kissed skin. You swallowed, trying to ignore the way his hand brushed your cheek as he reached to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I'm glad you didn't,” you said. JJ’s hand lingered, his fingers warm against your skin, and you felt yourself leaning in, just slightly, as though pulled by a force.

“I'm glad you didn't because if you did I wouldn't be here with you ” you whispered, unable to look away.  Before you could stop yourself, you closed the gap, kissing him with a fierceness you didn’t know you had.

JJ’s lips met yours, soft and warm, and his hands found their way to your waist, pulling closer. The hum of the machine, the aching in your muscles, even the fear — all of it fell away, leaving only the two of you, tangled together in this moment.

“It’s the first and last time I ever let something happen to you, got it?” You grinned and rolled your eyes. You shifted, grabbed a pillow and quickly pushed it directly in front of the circular window before climbing on his lap pressing a deep kiss to his plumped pink lips.

Only the two of you know what happened in that chamber in the minutes that followed.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 98)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (74) / Alexia Putellas x Character (50)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((6.2k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter every Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

YFN POV

YFN felt sick. She looked over at Ridley who was having far too many conversations with Beckett and Duce without saying words. It was fascinating, and terrifying just how well they communicated.

They were both such intimidating people also, though they felt safe. Like protectors. Even of her and Lucy. She’d caught eyes with them a few times since they met, and they were always polite yet on edge. Sort of like Ridley. Something that years of horrors would do to a person.

“Any other information?” Ridley asked, and she knew it was for their sake more than the military personnel standing around the table.

“From the intelligence… he’s travelling. Departed Spain.” She looked up and to Alexia. “As he is the head of his father’s cartel now, he has a wide network of people. We’ll keep protection on your family and friends in Spain.”

Silence. Alexia looked as if she didn’t know what to say but at least that was a little peace of mind for her.

Ridley looked at her watch. “It’s 11pm. He’ll be here early hours this morning.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Duce said, hard, her eyes focussing back on the screen.

Ridley and Beckett shared another look, and he took out his phone to make a call.

“You should enjoy your party,” he murmured to the three he didn’t know so well.

Ridley took Alexia’s hand and entwined their fingers. Her eyes caught Alexia’s reflecting an adoration she’d never seen from her before. YFN couldn’t help feel so overwhelmed with happiness for her friend, and Alexia, who she had grown close to. It was clear that their time away together had been exactly what was needed for the both of them to explore each other.

She subconsciously pressed her body back into Lucy to feel her there. Lucy reacted like she always did and reciprocated, finding her hips and holding on.

Her hands were so soft yet strong. Warm. Comforting. She felt… safe.

Ridley looked at the pair over Alexia’s shoulder.

“Blue, Bronze – come.” She directed.

She immediately followed as she knew it was to give Duce and Beckett privacy to do what they needed to do. Ridley walked slow so YFN could keep up, slowly stepping to press weight onto her braced leg and rolling through it, Lucy’s hands steady on her hips as she did so.

Ridley led them towards the dance floor in the crowded room. As they started moving through the sea of people dancing, Alexia reached back to take YFN’s good hand; and Lucy was right behind her, hands now around her waist and elbows out to make sure no one would accidentally bump into her with her sling.

They reached the middle of the dance floor and Ridley stopped, turned to Alexia and surprised them all by putting her hands on her waist and pulling her so close their bodies were pressed up against each other. After the surprise passed, Alexia draped her hands around her neck, leant into her and pressed her cheek against Ridley’s, closing her eyes as they swayed.

Christ, they really were going all out. God, they were so perfect for each other.

Lucy got the idea and came around YFN, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close as possible with her arm in the way. Her head pressed against Lucy’s strong collarbone. She smelt like home.

“Everything will be okay, little one.” She murmured quietly, knowing she was worrying about the situation.

It seemed like a cut and dry operation. A false location. The best of the best in the country closing around Bashir to capture him. Lumos’s event would go untouched. Everyone would be safe.

She turned her head slightly to see the couple next to her. Ridley’s head was still on Alexia’s, and her eyes still closed as they swayed. She wondered if Alexia knew how important that little detail was for the Australian.

Ridley trusted her. Completely.

Alexia was looking over at them with furrowed eyebrows, the worry was clear in her eyes, and she knew why.

Ridley was worried. And that scared them both.

“Riddles…”

Ridley sighed softly and opened her eyes. “Mmn?”

“Talk to me…”

Ridley didn’t want to talk, and she knew that. But she’d also grown lately, and in particular, as of late with Alexia. “I just want to be around the people important to me at the moment…”

YFN’s heart softened similar to how Alexia’s face did. She turned her head and pressed her lips to her cheek, holding them there for a time. “I love you,” she whispered, nuzzling her cheek lightly.

Ridley gripped her tighter, her arms wrapping around the footballer as if trying to protect her with her own body. Exactly how Lucy did with her.

It felt like… Ridley knew something they didn’t.

The couple’s swayed together a little longer until YFN’s leg was getting tired and she needed to stop.

“What is it, little one?” Lucy asked, always knowing when she was uncomfortable. She pulled back and looked down. “Is it your leg?”

“It’s getting sore.” She admitted. She looked around at the drunk football players and friends of who were dancing around them and didn’t like her chance of escaping the area.

“Come here.” Lucy cooed. She pulled YFN’s good arm around her neck and bent down to grab the back of her thighs, hoisting her up onto her.

“Luce.. your knee.”

Lucy only responded with a reassuring kiss to her jaw as she carried her from the dance floor. She exchanged glances over Lucy’s shoulder with Ridley and Alexia and when they started to follow, YFN gestured to stay where they were. To stay in their happy place. She gave Ridley a wink which was responded to with small smile full of conflicting emotion.

Oh, Riddles.

“Everything okay?” Jordan asked, coming over worried when she saw Lucy carrying her.

“I’m just getting a little sore.” She admitted, a bit embarrassed as her footballer placed her gently on a high stool at their table and started to knead the tense areas of her thigh. She immediately changed the subject. “How’s your night, Dory?”

“Leah’s had a bit..”

YFN followed her gaze across the room to the England Captain with a cowboy hat on, singing loudly next to Beth into a microphone.

They chuckled at the image.

“You’re really happy, hm?”

She already knew the answer. Jordan went slightly redder than usual, the alcohol being a small reason for that.

“It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more. Which reminds me..” she stepped forward and took her hand gently.

YFN let Jordan catch her eye. “I wanted to talk to you both.”

“What’s up, Jords?” Lucy asked.

“Well… Lucy you’ve been a big part of my life since we were kids.. and YFN, you and I have grown this amazing, life-long friendship.. and I’d both really like you to be in my wedding party.” She seemed a little nervous and cleared her throat. “A…and I don’t mean want to upset anyone.. because YFN is one of the newer friends in my life, but we’re just so close and get along so well, and both Leah and I know that we’re only together because of you and what you’ve done, but I love you both so much and…”

Lucy chuckled, catching on. “Spit it out Jords. Just ask her.”

YFN looked from Jordan to Lucy and back, confused for once.

Jordan sighed and squeezed her hand. “YFN.. will you be my maid of honour?”

“Oh… Jesus Dory. I didn’t expect that.” Was her initial response. Followed by silence. And then, she cried.

She turned towards Lucy to hide herself and stopped herself, turning to Jordan instead and leaning into her. Jordan wrapped her arms around her friend tenderly.

“Is that a yes?” Jordan sniffled, YFN able to feel her chest stutter also.

She nodded into her and felt Lucy squeeze her thigh.

Jordan leaned back and the two smiled at each other.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you asked her then?” Leah slurred, her arms going around Jordan’s waist.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Mmn.”

“I take it Keira is yours?” Lucy asked.

Leah nodded. “Asked her yesterday.”

“Is everything okay?” Ridley asked, scanning their faces.

YFN realised she was worried because they were crying. “It’s all good, Riddles.”

Ridley nodded, and then disappeared. Alexia extended her phone towards YFN who gave her a confused look. “It’s Ona… she wants to talk to you.”

“Oh!” YFN took the phone. “Ona! How are you?”

“Hola, YFN.” YFN could hear the smile in her voice. The thing with Ona was that even her voice was attractive.

Because the room was so loud, YFN had to press her free hand over her ear. “Hola, Ona. Everything okay..?”

Alexia and Lucy were looking at her quizzically as it was so unusual for Ona of all people to want to speak to YFN.

“Yes. I took your advice and uh… I think I met someone, but I don’t know what to do.”

ALEXIA POV

Alexia was curious of why Blau of all people was the one Ona wanted to speak to. She cocked her head as she watched Blau talk on the phone. At that time, she noticed that she was empty and cold, almost. She’d been so used to Ridley around her that she noticed her lack of presence immediately.

She looked straight to where she knew she would be, with her team. They were having what seemed to be an intense discussion.

Ridley looked up, spotted her, and looked back down. Alexia knew she was checking to make sure she was safe. She did it often, even before they were together, but even more so now.

“Ale?” Blau said, breaking her from her daze.

She turned to see her extended arm with Alexia’s phone.

“Thank you. Everything okay?”

“With Ona? Everything is more than okay.” She replied with her cute, dimpled smile.

Alexia smiled in return and decided not to push. She was too focused on Ridley who was now making her way back over to the group.

“Home time, I think.”

“Already?!” Leah whined.

“You two stay and have fun!” Blau eased. “Thank you for the invite..”

“You want to go, little one?” Lucy asked.

“I think it’s for the best, Luce. My body is getting tired.”

“Okay, my girl. You two want a lift home?”

The car ride was mostly silent. Blau and Lucy were in the front holding hands and murmuring to each other while Ridley and Alexia were sat in the back in silence. It wasn’t tense, she was just deep in thought and staring out the window. Behind them, Duke and Beckett were following closely.

Alexia let her have a little time to herself, but halfway home, she unclipped her belt and moved across to sit closer to the Australian. Ridley broke from her stupor and turned to her.

Alexia didn’t say anything. She simply raised her arm and let Ridley come to her. She always felt better with her close.

To her surprise, Ridley put her arms around her waist, pulling her close and finding Alexia’s neck with her mouth.

She sucked the skin there into her mouth, her tongue gliding over it before sucking.

Alexia felt it in her clit. She shivered and tried to turn her head so Lucy couldn’t see too much in the rearview mirror.

Ridley marked her neck and Alexia’s first thought should have been how to cover it for the event the next day, but instead all she could think about was getting home and fucking the distraction out of Ridley.

She felt fingertips slide down and under the hem of her shirt, gliding along her skin.

Ridley’s mouth kept exploring her neck with hot, tickly breath and lot of gentle teasing. Her fingers moved down, stroking the skin under the waist of her pants, teasingly and Alexia felt her legs automatically part. She could feel Ridley’s smile against her neck. Her mouth moved up to her ear and Alexia shivered at the feel of her breathing there.

“Tonight, you’re mine.” She murmured huskily in Spanish with just a tinge of Australian accent.

All she could think was that she was always hers.

“Are you two fucking in my car?”

Alexia’s back hit the door of Ridley’s bedroom as soon as it closed. Ridley’s hand came up to grasp her jaw as her tongue slid in her mouth. Alexia moaned out of reaction and pushed back against her, sliding the jacket down her arms and pinning them there. Ridley managed to rip one hand out and grab her throat, squeezing as she pressed her harder against the door.

Alexia dropped her grip on the jacket and instead ripped open her shirt, buttons flying as she wrenched it off of the Australian. Just when her arms were about to be immobilised again, she growled and ripped it off herself, throwing it across the room. Her hands found Alexia’s tits through her shirt and squeezed just rough enough that Alexia had to pull her mouth away just to gasp. In that short break, her shirt was up over her head and gone. Ridley was sliding down her body, hands and mouth trailing, marking, exploring aggressively. She slipped her shoes off and with one hand, she unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them down over her hips. That was the most patient part of her, when she held Alexia’s calves one by one to stop out of her jeans before tossing them away.

She’d assumed her underwear was next, but no. Ridley’s hands gripped the back of Alexia’s thighs where they met her ass, her mouth coming down on her clit over her underwear. They were already stuck to her with the excitement she’d built up in the car, but this was something else. Somehow, Ridley’s tongue was just as effective through the fabric, first sliding left and right to work her way between her folds until the flat of her tongue was directly over her clit.

Her tongue teased, making Alexia’s legs tremble and feel unsure. While she tasted her, her hands slid up over her ass, under her underwear and squeezed as if it was hers. Because it was. Ridley was obsessed with her hips and ass, and Alexia knew it.

The Spaniard swore in Catalan, and just before she lost all of her dominance, she reached down to grab Ridley around the throat and squeeze, dragging her back up to her mouth. She tasted herself in her mouth, her hands fisting that dark, shaggy bob of hers which was getting too long, and turning her head to better taste her.

Ridley’s knee replaced her mouth, pressing onto her cunt expectingly. She couldn’t help but give her what she wanted, rocking hard against it and shivering at the feel of that pressure on her clit. She could feel herself ruining Ridley’s pants but knew they both didn't give a fuck. Regardless, she reached down and unbuttoned her pants, pulling them open. Before she could drag them down, Ridley caught her hands.

“Patience, la Reina.”

Alexia grumbled, shoving her. Ridley stumbled backwards and the footballer followed, shoving her again. She caught up to her at the bed, managing to catch her off guard again before she’d caught herself. Alexia picked her up, throwing her onto the bedside table and knocking off the lamp which shattered on the floor. Her mouth landed on hers again, hands on her face, desperate to touch and taste her. Ridley groaned into her gripping wall with one hand and her blonde hair with the other. Alexia’s hands moved down to Ridley’s tits squeezing and kneading before getting so frustrated at the sports bra that it was up and over her head, thrown somewhere across the room.

Her tongue glided down over her jaw, neck, chest, stopping only to suck her nipple to a peak before moving onto her abs. She grabbed the waist of Ridley’s pants and ripped them off, shoes with it. She came back up, her eyes falling onto her underwear slickly attached to her cunt but Ridley was having none of it.

She found her way to her feet, taking Alexia by the face and kissing her. It was amazing. Personal. And then she was falling backwards onto the bed. She sat up on her elbows just in time to watch Ridley not just take her underwear off, but snap each band at the hips, ripping it from her. She took it and tied it around her own wrist as a prize. Alexia’s mouth dropped open and she felt her eyes darken. She knew she was just about to be fucked. Hard. All goddamn night.

Ridley caught her eye. “Stay.”

She turned and walked away as Alexia lay there panting, watching after her and admiring her physique, scars, and those muscular shoulders of hers.

She returned quickly, and Alexia was focusing so hard on her face, that she didn’t see what she was carrying. Toys landed on the bed next to her. A harness with a dildo, a magic wand, vibrator, hand cuffs, lube, and a bar with cuffs on the ends.

Oh shit, she was in for it.

Her eyes widened and she looked back to Ridley who was watching her reaction, and perfectly in her comfort zone. Holding that eye contact, she removed her rings one by one, and placed them on the night stand.

Alexia swallowed.

Ridley adjusted Alexia on the bed exactly where she wanted her and, holding her eyes the entire time, she knelt down, taking each of her knees and placing them over her shoulders as her mouth again, found her cunt. This time it was hungry and unimpeded. She sunk down and slid her tongue around the entrance to her hole first, darting just the tip in and out a few times before moving back up and taking hold of her clit. She didn’t even work up to it. She teased, hard, as if she knew just how turned on she was.

Alexia didn’t want to come so quickly, because she felt it showed weakness, but she did within a few minutes. She cried out and what’s worse is that Ridley didn’t stop. She continued through it, dragging that shuddering orgasm from her body.

Ridley worked her mouth up over her body, taking her time to mark and suck her nipples into peaks before her mouth landed on hers needily.

One of her hands disappeared and reappeared with the magic wand. Ridley spit on the head and extended it towards Alexia. She took it in her mouth without question, sucking and tonguing the rounded head to lube it up as much as possible. Her body was still shuddering from her orgasm and worsened when it touched her body. Ridley watched her expression as she placed the side of the head on her nipples, circling and taking her time. She worked it down her body, over her sensitive lats and then pressed the body of it against her inner thigh, working right up to her pussy.

She stroked it over her lips first, up and down gathering that excited, slickness of her. Working left and right, she eased it between her folds, pressing it against her hole and holding it there, feeling Alexia’s body react by shuddering and keening. She worked it up towards her swollen bundle on nerves but didn’t touch it. She vibrated every single piece around it, enjoying the frustration building in her girlfriend.

“Please, Ridley… please.”

The Australian hummed happily, and gave her what she wanted, smiling when her body jerked at the feel of the vibrations on her clit.

Ridley lips traced her face: her temple, cheek, jaw, ear, neck, all while she worked the wand on her clit.

Alexia wanted to say she lasted longer than last time, but she didn’t. In fact, she came quicker than the time before, gripping onto Ridley’s hand to hold the pressure of the wand against her clit, vibrating her through a violent orgasm as she cried out and her body shuddered uncontrollably.

Just as she was getting sensitive, the wand disappeared. She gathered her breath, spent and sweaty. Angry almost, her hand dipped into Ridley’s underwear and found her there. Ridley tried to stop her, but to no avail. She was determined. She spread Ridley’s legs with her own, holding them apart as she rubbed her clit, dragging out of her exactly what she’d just done to her.

She was fighting at first, until she wasn’t. Until she was rocking against her hand, swearing into her mouth as she came close.

“Not yet. No. You can come around my fucking fingers.” Alexia snapped, two fingers moving down and sliding into Ridley, stretching her while her palm finished the job. In retaliation, Ridley came crying into her ear, gasping and shuddering. Fuck. Ridley’s orgasm was something else.

Even more frustrated now and trying to take her power back, she grabbed Ridley, their mouths crashing together hot, heavy, and salty as she flipped her onto her back.

She needed more.

They moved desperately and shakily. She grabbed at the harness and worked it up onto Ridley while the Australian took the dildo and lubed it up. Alexia tightened the strap harshly and as soon as she slipped it in, Alexia was sinking down onto it, groaning at the feeling.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

She fucked herself on her girlfriend like she was being paid.

For the first time in her life, she didn't give a fuck about her knee. She didn’t care if she hurt it more, or even if she never played football again. All she cared about was the woman below her, and the feel of that strap sliding in and out of her.

Well it was sliding, until Ridley took hold of her hips and started thrusting up. Then it was fucking up into her. She didn't know if it was more of her riding, or more of her taking what she was given. Regardless, it made her eyes roll to the back of her head as she cried out through it, not even sure what words were coming from her mouth.

Ridley. Fuck. Ridley. Fuck me. I love you. Fuck me. Ridley. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m yours. Fuck.

Once again, her power was being overtaken by Ridley controlling the situation. She wasn’t mad, but it was frustrating, and so she needed to get some of that out. She grabbed her by the throat as she rode, squeezing the sides and limited the blood flow to her brain. Ridley’s eyelids fluttered and she groaned, her head and eyes rolling back as she became lightheaded. Alexia made her horniness known.

“Fuck yes.” She said through her teeth. “Take it, Lee. Fucking take it until I come.”

She reached down and tightened the harness of the strap as she rode, which put more pressure onto Ridley’s clit. Alexia adjusted the way she rode, leaning backwards more and watching Ridley’s body reacting, knowing she was hitting that good spot.

She was dripping down the strap, covering her girlfriends hips, but it didn’t phase her. Ridley was losing it and she knew that. Her orgasm was glorious. Ridley came first, having been so pent up and gripped hard onto Alexia’s hips as she shuddered. As she came down, Alexia released her grip on her throat and watched the colour come back into her face as a result. The Spaniard chased her orgasm, finding her own creeping up shortly after Ridley’s.

Ridley, however, had other plans. She flipped Alexia when she wasn’t prepared and pulled out, grabbing the pole Alexia had never seen before.

Panting and frustrated over being denied her orgasm, she sat up on her elbows to protest as Ridley grabbed each ankle and cuffed it to the pole.

“What is this?” She argued, wrenching her legs against it. The pole split apart, widening her legs and keeping them there.

She’d fucked up. Ridley grinned and Alexia’s eyes widened. “Shit!”

Ridley grabbed the pole in the middle and flipped it, in turn flipping the footballer with it. Shit. She tried to wriggle away and Ridley caught her hips, lifting them and placing several pillows under her to prop her ass up.

Shit.

She was so exposed.

Ridley’s knelt behind her and bent down, her tongue swiping through her folds. She shivered. Alexia heard her spit into her cunt, and then cried out as two of her fingers pushed into her. She grabbed the closest pillow and dragged it down to have something to grab and bite onto as she took it.

“Aaaargh fuck. Lee.”

Ridley’s free hand slid up her spine to the back of her neck, and then into her hair. She collected her hair into a ponytail, twisting it around her hand and pulling her head back towards her as she pumped her fingers back into her again.

She’d never been in such a vulnerable position, but she felt comfortable. So comfortable that she was unconsciously pushing her ass back in offering. Ridley would never hurt her. She just wanted to give her all of the pleasure in the world.

Her fingers came around in front of her and Alexia sucked just as she'd wanted, her head movements controlled by Ridley’s hand on her ponytail. She moaned onto her fingers.

Then Ridley pushed her legs again further, the pole extending and locking. Her bodyweight pressed down onto her as she buried the cock back into Alexia, pulling her head back at the same time.

They managed to sleep maybe four hours in total. After the roughness, the desperation, the chaotic love expressed as aggressive fucking, they’d showered, cuddled, kissed each other to sleep. Alexia had been worried she’d wake alone, but she didn’t. Ridley was there, fully clothed and holding her, with a warm Chiquito purring against her back.

“Good morning, Lex. Welcome to your day.” She murmured, kissing her forehead.

Alexia groaned, hating mornings. She took a deep breath and pressed her body further into her girlfriend.

It was then that she noticed the clothes. She woke quickly, pulling back.

“Planning with Duke and Becks.”

She looked around sleepily for a clock.

“It’s 9am, love.”

Alexia yawned and laid her head back down onto Ridley, enjoying her warmth and softness.

The Australian held her for a while and let Alexia drift in an out of sleep. Eventually she spoke.

“Blue and Lucy will be here soon, Lex.”

“Mmn?”

“Mmn.” She chuckled in response. “In about ten minutes. Brunch is ready soon. I need you to eat before you go. So I need you to get up, please.”

Alexia sighed and nodded. “I need a shower.”

“I’ll be downstairs.” Ridley went to move and was stopped by Alexia’s tight grip on her shirt. She turned back and was captured by those worried, hazel eyes of hers. As if Alexia had just realised what today was. “I’ll stay with you.”

Ridley stayed while Alexia showered. She was there with her towel when she’d finished, and she’d laid out both her wardrobe for the day and her clothes for their brunch.

Lucy and Blau were there when they came downstairs. They all greeted each other sombrely. Blau did try to cheer the mood, though she only managed to a little. Alexia tried to ignore the startling image of Duke and Beckett along with other military members ready for what seemed to be a battle. The weapons both concealed and otherwise were enough to start a war. Even Chiquito seemed to watch from afar, picking up on the dark mood.

Ridley caught her chin when she noticed, turning it away from them and to her. “Stay here, with me.” She said before kissing her gently.

After brunch, their stylists arrived along with hair and makeup. It was more of a laid-back event, but then again, everyone always expected fashion from Alexia. Ridley stayed close as she got ready, always within eyesight, though getting a little more fidgety and tense. Her eyes kept flickering over to her team.

Just as Alexia was having the finishing touches of her outfit checked, she came over. “I need to go now, Lex.”

Alexia’s blood ran cold. Her hand paused where it was patting Chiquito and she felt her face drop.

“You’re leaving?” Blau asked from next to her.

Ridley nodded.

“Don’t leave without saying bye, Riddles.”

Ridley chuckled and went over to say goodbye to their friends, hugging Blau for what seemed like a long time. She came back over to Alexia and bent down to say her goodbyes to Chiquito first before standing in front of her.

“It’ll be over soon, Lex. Derek’s team will keep you on time. Remember, you’re leaving 30 minutes after us, and in the opposite direction. Same cars, tinted windows. They’ll follow us, not you.”

But Alexia wasn’t worried about that. She felt helpless.

Ridley stepped forward and cupped her face between her hands. “I’ll come to you when it’s done. We do this for a living.”

“I know,” she murmured.

Ridley watched her eyes and the emotions flicker through them. Her thumbs stroked Alexia’s cheeks softly. Only when Alexia felt her body calming a little, did Ridley step forward slowly into her face, their bodies pressed together lightly, and kissed her the complete opposite to how she did the night before. Loving. Gentle. Tender.

And against her lips she whispered. “I love you, Alexia.”

Alexia fidgeted every single second that Ridley was gone. The 30 minutes felt like 3 hours. Eventually, the other team told them it was time.

“It’ll be okay,” Blau comforted. “They’ve done this a thousand times. She’ll be okay.”

But what if she was caught unawares, or in the crossfire?

She kissed Chiquito goodbye and they drove in the opposite direction to the others. The event was in a place where they hosted gala dinners. It was more of a casual event, though, with high tables and a cocktail set up. They were the first to arrive, of course, as Blau had to arrive early and make sure all was set up correctly.

As they walked into the building, Alexia checked her phone. Nothing.

They were introduced to the building’s security team who looked like amateurs compared to the SAS, because they were. They were to stay close to the group, while the SAS team patrolled the building.

Leah and Jordan arrived next with Caitlin and Katie, along with a few Lumos crew. Blau walked them through the event and how it would be run when suddenly, there was a loud banging sound. She jumped. Everybody froze, because everybody in the room knew about the operation.

She caught Blau’s eye and they were startled.

The lights cut out and there was silence for a few seconds, until the gunshots sounded in the darkness.

“GET DOWN!” Lucy shouted. They all dropped and Alexia felt someone pushing her backwards into other people.

When the emergency lighting came on, the gunfire stopped. She realised that it was the security guards ushering them back into against the wall so they could protect them, but there were only five of them.

Two went to check on what happened, and didn’t come back. More shots rang out. She scrambled for her phone and saw multiple missed calls from Ridley. She started calling her again, and Alexia answered. Before she could talk, a group of men burst into the room with rifles. She quickly turned down the volume, clicked facetime and sat it on the ground next to her on loudspeaker.

One security guard stepped forward with his hands up and was shot in the head. Blood sprayed onto Alexia’s face and she jumped, eyes wide and terrified. She dared not to speak to the phone. One of the Lumos workers screamed and covered her ears, squeezing her eyes shut.

Lucy put her body in front of Blau and pressed her against the wall. Blau reached out to take Alexia’s hand and she grabbed it, squeezing tightly.

The men approached and screamed in broken English to the two remaining security guards. They did as they were told and placed their weapons down, sliding them over and lying face down on the ground.

Once on the ground, one of the men looked straight to Alexia and pointed, his eyes lighting up. Then he found Blau and pointed to her, and back to Alexia, speaking in another language to the team.

They were dark skinned and there was no remorse in their eyes. They enjoyed this. She wondered which one was Bashir. The taller man approached Alexia, hand extended to grab her when more shots rang out. Multiple. Screaming.

The lights flickered, and then went off again.

She saw the silhouettes of the men backing off and spinning around, trying to work out what was happening.

And then a bullet sounded so loud that she knew it came from inside the room. What’s worse, is the sound of it piercing through a skull. Then the thud of a body.

Another bullet, and the sound of another body hitting the ground.

As they were all pressed up against each other, Alexia could feel the trembling of the people around them. The Lumos workers hiding behind her. Caitlin and Katie to her left. Lucy and Blau to her right. And Leah with Jordan next to them.

The lights came back on and a figure appeared. The men with guns spun to shoot but they were too slow. The first fell to his knees and Alexia watched wide-eyed as a knife went in and out of his neck almost quicker than she could see. The next two lunged and the figure dropped, slicing at their ankles with one swift movement, leaping up and shooting them both in the head without a second glance.

The taller man and one other were directly in the way of her being able to see this figure as they approached. The shorter man shot and missed. The figure approached closer, moving like an animal, so confident and swiftly. The man swung his fist with a scream and the figure ducked, slicing across his body and in the same move, coming back across to slice across his throat in a quick, methodical move.

The sound of ripping flesh was outdone only by the smell of blood.

The taller man dropped his gun and fell to the floor, his arms up in surrender. Over him, Alexia locked eyes with Ridley. Her eyes were wild, though calmed when seeing her. She was safe. She looked her up and down thoroughly, before assessing the group.

Alexia felt her body start to move towards her, and Ridley's eyes stopped her. “Stay.”

She kicked the guns back towards the security guards. “There are more coming, I need to go. Tie him up and strip him of weapons. Protect this fucking group like your life depends on it. Shoot anyone who isn’t me.”

A creak sounded from above them and Ridley looked up. The panels in the roof started moving and she tracked where they were. When she was sure, she shot up and heard a groan. Blood seeped through the hole in the roof. She waited for movement, and then she was gone again.

The security tied the man awkwardly and took his gun. More shots rang out in the halls. She couldn’t stand what was happening. She went to move and Lucy caught her. She was watching her hard, and shook her head. “Don’t.”

She was still of two minds when Blau whispered. “Please don’t. She’ll never forgive us if we let you leave.”

“We have to run..” Katie stressed.

Blau shook her head. “No, the safest place is here. Riddles would have gotten us out if she could.”

The group stared at the bodies laid in front of them. They flinched with each gunshot or scream they heard.

Minutes felt like hours.

The door smashed open again and they all tensed. Ridley entered at a jog, coming back around to the front of the group.

“Tell us what the fuck is happening!” Katie almost screamed.

“There’s more. They’re coming. But my team are almost here too.”

“W… what happened?” Lucy asked, even her voice trembling.

“Snitch. One of ours.”

Alexia caught Ridley’s eye.

“Not my team,” she clarified, and then her face dropped. “He came for you… to get to me… I’m so sorry.”

Gunshots. Her head snapped up, and her gun raised as she eyed the door.

Watching her like this was eye-opening. She was so methodical. A difference person, almost. And the way she moved… was terrifying. Everything she did was with purpose and clear that she'd done it many, many times before.

But it was nothing she hadn’t expected.

It was the part of Ridley she’d never seen.

“Riddles?” Came Blau’s quiet voice.

Ridley’s face twitched. “I’m sorry, Blue.” She turned her head and her face dropped with her gun when she saw her. “I’m so sor-”

A gunshot sounded out. Everything felt like it was in slow motion.

Ridley’s head snapped back and she collapsed in a sickening thud.

The security guards jumped onto the man they’d failed to tie up properly as they wrenched the gun from his hand.

Blood pooled around Ridley’s head where she lay, unmoving.

And then, Alexia screamed.

[sadisticpussies]

obx cast lore: ( some of it is speculation but most has been proven.)

- elaine, previously the directors assistant and photographer on the show, got into arguments with the pates on set. even went as far as arguing with lila, jonas’ daughter.

- she was fired as a result of this, causing her to be replaced.

- there was a cast dinner that apparently, madison and elaine got into a heated argument at. a few days later a bunch of unfollowings happened (madison unfollowed elaine; elaine unfollowed madison and mariah, rudy unfollowed mariah, mariah unfollowed elaine and rudy)

- production of season 4 begins and rudy approaches the pates and tells him that he doesn’t want to renew his contract for another season. this throws everyone off and results in last minute changes in the script.

- jonas, one of the creators of the show, unfollows rudy on instagram.

- filming in morocco as a mess. rudy distanced himself even more from the cast (only talking to chase and jonas on set), he didn’t want to be anywhere near madison (even more so than usual—this is proven in a bts video where he literally walks off as soon as she stands next to him)

- all throughout the entirety of the promo for the season, the pates, rudy and madison all hyped up jiara’s relationship lying to fans.

- jj’s character dies in part 2 which the pates claim was planned from season 1. but they didn’t even know rudy wasn’t going to renew his contract for season 5, so how was this planned? why did jonas unfollow him? why did he want to leave as soon as his girlfriend was fired from the show? this excuse was to placate fans so no one would know about all the drama behind the scenes. that is until fans started to notice that rudy used body doubles in his scenes with madison in the jiara scenes—which only further added onto speculation of him hating her.

- the pates, upset at rudy’s abrupt departure decided to kill jj off instead of simply writing him off another way. they started bringing up riara, a ship that both madison and drew themselves despise and say makes no sense, and even hinted at a potential relationship between them as they also stated they were going to make the final season focused on rafe. they’re planning to use drew’s popularity to replace jj as the fan favorite; also using his character to replace jj in the pogues. rudy didn’t want jj to be killed off but the pates chose to do it in anger for his leaving.

- a tumblr acc revealed that madison is known as the diva on set; going as far as being rude to producers on the show. (this is not too far fetched as their has been proof of her being a bitch by others but again, it’s not 100% confirmed.) and another person who said they were an extra in season 3 during the kitty hawk scene said that they didn’t talk at all except for filming.

- something drastic happened in between s3 and s4 because a fan posted a video last year where rudison was high fiving in between takes making fans believe that they were cordial but videos of this season shows rudy adamantly excluding himself from the cast, specifically madison.

- in conclusion, this show is full of immature people and rudy, madison, elaine and mariah are the reason for this outcome.

[twipsai]

omega and silver fic is up! ill put the full thing under the cut yayyy

~

Days and weeks and months melted together, years going by as his body rusted and decayed, warping itself beyond repair as fewer and fewer people dared to enter the Flame Core, fewer caring to check in on them.

He wasn’t conscious for a large portion of it. How could he be? Why would he be? Any reason to stay present was gone.

So he sat. He waited. For what, he wasn’t sure.

…

And then.

And then one day.

One day, something new. The feeling of something stirring against his chest awoke him from a multi-decade slumber. It took minutes, maybe hours, for all of his systems to come back online. The ones remaining, anyway. Everything hit him like bullets— two lifeforms detected, tactile input detected, loss of ammunition, left shoulder joint disconnected, motor functions offline…

Everything buzzed faintly.

Finally, he could see again.

He shifted his cameras down to see…

“CHILD.”

The kid’s eyes flew open as he stumbled backwards from being curled up against his side. A scream erupted from the child’s body. Analysis showed he was a hedgehog, about six, not matching anyone stored within his database.

Though, there weren’t many people around who did, anymore.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Omega questioned, voice echoing unpleasantly against the cavern’s walls.

The child didn’t answer, his breathing picking up speed as his hands started to tremble. He fell to his knees, eyes wide and unblinkingly staring at Omega.

“I BELIEVE I MAY HAVE FRIGHTENED YOU. THIS WAS NOT MY INTENTION.”

It looked like the child couldn’t breathe, now, as if he was being strangled by an invisible force. He grasped a hand around his neck while tears rolled down his cheeks.

Somewhere in his data storage, something like a memory surfaced. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

At some point, someone he knew had something like this happen to them.

“INITIATING ‘COMFORT’ PROTOCOL.”

Through old, crackling speakers, a song started to play. Even with the terrible audio crunching, the piano still rang out as soft as ever. Slow notes drawled on. The lifeform behind him shifted. The child took about 3.49 seconds to visually indicate he had heard the music. His ears perked up and his terrified eyes softened. Over the course of six minutes and twenty-three seconds, the child’s heart rate decreased from 110 beats per minute to 100.

The first thing that tiny child squeaked out was, “Can you move?”

Omega responded after a moment to check. “NO.”

The child then slowly stood, inching forward on trembling legs to sit closer to the music. He leaned an ear to Omega’s chest where the sound crackled out from. He was way too warm for a tiny child, and if he wasn’t showing no other symptoms, Omega would have thought he was sick.

As the song steadily reached its conclusion, the child seemed about as relaxed as he was going to get.

“What is this?” he asked.

“GYMNOPEDIE NO. 1.”

The child looked up and squinted his eyes, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“IT’S A VERY OLD SONG FROM AN ESTIMATED 400 YEARS AGO.”

“A song? What’s a song?”

Omega was never very good at explaining the more… human aspects of life. The alive parts.

Others would be better suited to explain this.

He knew many that could’ve.

“A SONG IS TYPICALLY A COLLECTION OF NOTES PLAYED IN SUCCESSION TO CREATE A MELODY. WHY WERE YOU SLEEPING ON ME, CHILD?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I DO NOT CARE. YOU HAVE NOT ANSWERED MY QUESTION.”

The child’s grey quills flared out even more than they already had, and he fidgeted with the bandages around his wrists. “Your body is cold. It’s very warm here. I was just trying to cool off…”

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

“I think it’s Silver.”

“YOU ARE NOT SURE?”

“No.”

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

“I’m trying to get to Crisis City.”

That was an unfamiliar location. Omega checked his residual memory, and cross referenced it with previous data he had archived. “THE RUINS OF SOLEANNA.”

“Um. Maybe?”

“THE HEART OF IBLIS. INQUIRY: WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR CERTAIN DEATH?”

Silver sat down in the place where his left arm should have been, under exposed wires sparking threateningly. This close, Omega could see the scabs on his knees, the blood soaking through the messily-wrapped bandages, the cuts littering his arms and legs, his calloused hands and feet— he could see the determination in his eyes as he folded his hands in his lap and furrowed his brows. “I'm going to defeat Iblis.”

If Omega could laugh, he would. “DOES NOT COMPUTE. SILVER THE HEDGEHOG: SMALL, MORTAL, POWERLESS. IBLIS: GIANT, IMMORTAL, POWERFUL. I ASK AGAIN; WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR DEATH?”

“Because I have to! I have powers no one else has, if there's something I can do, then I wanna help!”

“FURTHER DATA NEEDED. WHAT POWERS DO YOU POSSESS, CHILD?”

“Um, someone told me its called psy– psycho— um—”

“PSYCHOKINESIS.”

“Yes! Psychokinesis!”

There was no telling how powerful the child actually was. Omega knew better than to underestimate children at this point, when three had accompanied him on adventure after adventure before the flames had consumed the world.

They were children. Most of his companions were. 

His chest suddenly felt strange. Felt. He tried to run a diagnosis on his power core, only to find that it was still destroyed. Nothing had changed about his state. What made that feeling?

“Excuse me, uh… sir?”

“OMEGA.”

“Huh?”

“THAT IS MY NAME. E-123 OMEGA.”

“Oh. Well, your eyes are glowing.”

Strange. Someone once said that he was very expressive— he thought it was what she called “sarcasm”, but then went on to explain all the little things she noticed about him, and how he reacts to things. It seemed that, even with almost all of his functions offline, he was still finding ways to express himself.

“Omega?”

“WHAT.”

Silver looked up at him shyly. “Can I lean on you again? It’s very hot in here, and you’re very cool…”

“I LACK THE PROPER MOTOR FUNCTION TO STOP YOU.”

“That’s why I asked.”

A memory surfaced. Covered in rust and cobwebs and ash.

A very long time ago, he was carrying someone gently, as gently as he could. This person was tired— he had been through a lot that week. He could barely stand. So he carried him to his room quietly, trying his best not to tear the blankets he used to tuck him in. He must not have done a very good job at being quiet, because he woke up to a degree.

“Omega,” he mumbled, eyes still half-closed. “Don’t… don’t let anyone do anything to you. Even though you’re… you’re a robot… you should get to be your own person…”

He quietly took a step back. 

“YOUR MUMBLING IS INCOHERENT,” Omega replied. “TELL ME TOMORROW; I WILL STILL BE HERE.”

And he turned.

And left.

Silver, for one reason or another, was dragging up memories that he thought had been trapped in old storage. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t had a conversation with another person in over a hundred years. Maybe the long stretches of silence had a way of turning one into a poet.

“YES,” Omega finally replied, “YOU MAY LEAN ON ME.”

Silver crawled over his lap, smushing himself in between Omega’s in-tact arm and torso, forehead leaning against his upper arm. If Omega thought the child would listen, he would warn him about getting tetanus from his rusted fingers.

“I have a question now. Is that okay?”

“YES.”

“How old are you?”

“73,784.8 DAYS HAVE PASSED SINCE MY CREATION.”

“Uhhh… that’s a lot…”

Eggman didn’t program conversion to weeks, months, and years into his internal clock. Eventually it would stop counting up when it hit 999,999.999 days. It also meant that he had to mentally convert it himself. “APPROXIMATELY 200 YEARS.”

“Oh.”

…

The child looked up at him with impossibly large eyes.

“Oh! Were you around before Iblis was, Omega?!”

“YES—”

“Can you tell me about it?! Please! I’ve heard stories but— but not from someone who was there! You gotta tell me!”

Much to his dismay, Omega was finding this child amusing. And familiar. “WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW?”

“Um, um…” When he was in thought, Silver fidgeted with his poncho’s hem. “Tell me about the sky!”

“...THE SKY?”

“Yes!”

Omega hadn’t been outside for most of his lifespan— he had spent it in the Flame Core. But he did remember that— “IT WAS GIANT.”

A massive expanse that blanketed the entire earth. A constant in a chaotic life. No matter where you went, the sky followed.

“IT WOULD CHANGE COLOR. MANY COMPARED IT TO A PAINTING.”

The child looked up at him with wonder in his eyes, absorbing every syllable.

“IT WAS THE ONE THING IN LIFE THAT REMAINED.”

Absolute awe was written on Silver’s face. 

Omega could make a well-informed guess of what awaited him outside the cavern if he was ever fixed.

“Can you tell me about the people?”

“YOU ASK MANY QUESTIONS.”

“I haven’t gotten this many answers before.”

They were his companions. Teammates. Friends, though, that was pushing it a little, as one of them would say. After so long to think about it, to put his feelings into words, he came to the conclusion that he must have cared about them. They were almost all gone, now. Almost. But he could remember watching them from afar, completely captivated by how they moved. It was all just play to most of them. They would train against each other, race across continents, get takeout in the middle of a mission… Everything was just another day. They laughed in the face of danger. They stood tall. They cared.

Oh, how they cared.

“I BELIEVE THEY WERE NOT VERY DIFFERENT FROM THE PEOPLE OF THIS TIME.”

“No?”

“NO. THEY WERE ALL JUST PEOPLE. MUNDANE.”

Silver knitted his brows together in thought, then pointed past where Omega’s cameras could reach, behind the two of them. “Was he there?”

But he knew.

He knew.

Knew who he was pointing to.

“YES.”

“What’s his name?”

“SHADOW.”

“Why is he trapped in there?”

While Omega couldn’t see him in his position, he knew exactly how Shadow looked. Arms up and cuffed with giant metal rings, attached to a hexagonal cage that stretched over him in a diamond shape, glowing pink and white. The image was committed to his long-term memory.

Perhaps it was better he couldn’t turn to see.

“HUMANITY THOUGHT HE WAS THE CAUSE OF THE FLAMES OF DISASTER.”

Silver stood and walked behind him. The tingle of apprehensiveness of having his back turned to a sentient being was duller than he remembered. “Was he?”

“NO,” he could say for certain. “NO, HE WASN’T.”

“Then why did they do this to him?”

He could remember his claw gripping Shadow’s neck as he begged and pleaded for mercy. He remembered his body acting without his command as he unfeelingly attacked him. He remembered Shadow going limp on the floor, almost dead. He remembered watching as people crowded around him and quickly put him into stasis.

He remembered standing with him,

for centuries.

Maybe as an apology. Maybe because it was what he was built to do.

He remembered.

“HUMANITY FEARS WHAT THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND, CHILD.”

Quietly, Silver walked back to Omega’s side, leaning on him once again, and a little more curled up in his lap than he was before. “I know,” he said. “I know that.” 

Of course he did. Omega could have guessed that, especially in this world; this world that was dominated by terror. After all, Silver was here, alone, at six years old. Whatever reason he had for that couldn't be a pleasant one.

“YOU REMIND ME OF THE PEOPLE I FOUGHT ALONGSIDE BACK THEN.”

“Before Iblis?”

“YES.”

“I do?”

“YOU ARE MARCHING TO FACE IMPOSSIBLE ODDS. YET YOU REMAIN OPTIMISTIC. YOU STRIVE TO PROTECT A BROKEN WORLD THAT HURT YOU.”

Silver fidgeted with the hem of his poncho. His markings pulsed with light. “Even if the whole world was against me,” he whispered, “I'd still protect it.”

“I SEE. INQUIRY;”

“Mhm?”

“HOW CAN YOU FIGHT WHEN YOU KNOW YOU CAN'T WIN?”

For a long time, Silver stayed quiet.

He spoke slowly. “As long as I don't give up… there's hope.”

How optimistic. How cruel, for a child to say those words with a trembling voice. If Omega could, he'd weep. 

Then, he returned to his excited demeanor. “Hey, you know what? I could probably get Shadow out of there!”

“YOU COULD NOT.”

“I could try! If I could wake your friend up, then maybe—”

“CHILD.”

He stayed quiet.

“I MADE A VOW TO PROTECT THOSE I HELD DEAR.” He flickered some of the lights on his body on and off. “I BROKE THAT VOW ONCE. NOW, I WILL REMAIN HERE, BY HIS SIDE, UNTIL I AM GONE.”

Silver was practically curled up in his lap, forehead rested on his chest. His body temperature had dropped significantly since he had woken up. “Okay, then. Hey, I have another question.”

“ASK IT.”

“Can you make that ‘song’ again?”

How optimistic.

How cruel.

“YES. I CAN.”

The piano hummed through his broken speakers. It made ear-splitting popping noises occasionally, but Silver didn't seem to mind. He shifted so his ear was right above Omega’s internal speaker.

His companions would have liked Silver. It was obvious— maybe even Shadow would have. But they were separated by eons.

Omega only hoped the next time they met, it was for a kinder reason.

‘Hoped’...

Silver must have been rubbing off on him. 

[cursedcola]

DAV: Spoilers for Final Act! Don’t read if you haven’t finished the game!

I know it goes without saying that all companions are concerned when Rook is pulled into Solas’ prison. Some held more confidence in their escape than others (Example: Davrin’s final cutscene is very….well, 100% Davrin. He walks in as if Rook hasn’t just been missing and possibly dead. He bleeds confidence, because in his mind Rook is here. That’s what matters. It’s in his character to live in the present and now is daring for a future, the past cannot linger. They’d just discussed the chance of one of them not coming back before heading to fight. Rook gave him hope, told him to fight for what he wants most, and so he did - and it worked.)

Yet then there’s Lucanis. In the moment before fighting, he expresses such anxiety over having Rook’s life in his hands. He swears to protect them. He takes that responsibility onto himself. In the final talk before ending the plot all together - he admits to being scared to care for Rook. Worried from the earliest stages. You can hear it in his voice - how words cannot carry the depth of his emotion. Isn’t it spite who says to Rook ‘You open doors. You don’t close them’?

So imagine that period of in between while Rook is trapped. All the words that went unsaid because he was frightened. Too consumed. Behind a door that opened too late, and Rook couldn’t come to make him listen. To help. He succeeded in his contract as a crow, yet failed his promise as Lucanis.

When he walks into Rook’s chambers, his gaze is disbelieving. As if in those short steps he’s convincing himself that they are alive. When he reassures them that it isn’t the fade, he’s reassuring himself at the same time. Not just for that moment, but for all the ones that came prior. That he hadn’t made them up. That he’s no longer in the Ossuary, that everything he’s experienced up until that moment is indeed real and -

Lucanis’ romance might not be the most delved into. Other companions might have more content and interactive scenes - but out of them all, Lucanis is hands down the most impacted when Rook is sucked into Solas’ prison. Even if you do not romance him, it’s his image that Rook sees dead in place of Varric at the start of Solas’ mind game. He’s so overcome with spite and sorrow for failing to kill Ghilan’nain the first time. With their life in his hands, with his walls stopping him from baring all his heart to them before - a second failure at a price much too heavy.

He owes Rook for aiding his city, saving him from himself - he loves them so deeply that the first time we hear it is raw and the most assured line Lucanis’ has in all of his cutscenes. He kneels to them. Every line spoken from this cutscene onwards, even the small in-battle concern he says, is filled with more conviction and meaning than his delivery before. He makes sure they know his feelings because the chance almost slipped through his fingers.

If not romanced, they are still one of the closest companions he’s ever let near. Even spite went to them for aid above all the others - and their loss would be on Lucanis’ head. If Rook did not escape Solas’ prison, romanced or not, Lucanis would never walk as he did before. Thank fuck Solas didn’t end up in this man’s head instead, because the prison of regret would branch on as an endless chasm.

[the-great-kraken]

saw somebody today try to say charles rowland is a monarchist, which is blatantly wrong, just look at the guy, but it did get me thinking that edwin, with his upper class edwardian sensibilities, would probably have been raised to support the royals. so now i'm very curious how that conversation went. anyway i think people should do more with the culture clash of 80s punk charles and posh edwardian edwin, i think it's really funny.

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF THE NORMANDY SUMMIT

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Primarch Adrien Victus, Dalatrass Linron, and Urdnot Wrex With: Comm. Specialist Samantha Traynor Commander, you need to keep Cerberus at bay- I can't overstate what a victory a treaty between the Turians and the Krogan would be for the Alliance. We need all the help we can get... Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[calciferstims]

fuecoco stimboard

lovingly dedicated to my new starter baby <33 his name is coco cola and I would commit murder for him without a moment’s hesitation

sources: 🔥🌶️🔥 | ❤️‍🔥☀️❤️‍🔥 | 🔥🌶️🔥

[apathyfairy]

i always said that once i stop caring what other people think about me it’s over for you bitches and it’s finally happened i’m literally untouchable

[arolesbianism]

You see Jackie is great because she has a similar appeal to me as Maxwell but she's a lesbian and also not british so she's automatically a billion times better and more interesting

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was working at the sex shop I was pulling poverty wages. I loved my job but I was on food stamps and still barely getting by. When they hired the stores first male employee and he started at my pay rate after I’d been there for three years I quit.

I was initially really nervous when I saw the post for the mattress job. It listed a pay scale that I couldn’t even conceptualize and I appeared qualified. When I got an interview I was over the moon but also petrified. Reactions to my line of work often varied but most people were very embarrassed or skeptical. I worried about how I’d address it in the actual interview.

I lived far to the north of their headquarters and drove almost two hours to get there. When I finally arrived it was in the nicest thrift store clothes I could find, but I shrank inside to see a room full of older white men in nice suits waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

Why did I bother? I was decades younger than anyone else in the room, shabbily dressed, and I suspected I was the only afab person in the entire building. I stewed in my insecurities until I was called in.

The second I met my interviewer I was instantly put at ease. The man had the energy of a therapy dog, he was abound with positive, good natured energy. He was also incredibly beautiful. I grinned back at his welcoming smile as we said our pleasantries. But still. This very beautiful polished man seemed very innocent. How would the sex shop question go?

“I see here you worked at STORE?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“And that was sales? Or you just rang people up.”

“No, it was sales. I’d help people find products, we were encouraged to upsell, there was sales spiffs, and most importantly we educated customers on products to help them find what they liked best.”

He grinned approvingly and asked, “Can you give me an example of a time you successfully upsold a customer?”

I paused, wringing my hands before I asked, “How vague would you like me to be…?”

“Not at all!” He assured me. “Go for it!”

“Well. A man came in looking for something to make his fingers vibrate so when he was touching his wife it would enhance that sensation. We had cheap $10 cockrings that I showed him first. But we had a rechargeable waterproof one made of nicer material, and after I showed him a demo he bought that one.”

“How much was that one?”

“$110”

“Wow! You had an upsell of 100% from what he came in looking for! That’s incredible!”

He was so truly genuinely stoked and not at all embarrassed that for the first time I saw a tiny glimmer of a future where I didn’t have ramen and peanut butter tiding me over between paychecks.

He asked me to wait then came back to tell me he liked me so much that he wanted to send me right into another interview, if that was okay. He didn’t want me to have to drive back later, it was terribly considerate and exciting. I beamed and told him it would be lovely.

I then had the second worst interview I’ve ever had. The worst goes to the time I applied to be a store manager for a pet food place years later. The district and store manager interviewing me passed notes and texted while I was speaking. When the district manager called to inform me I didn’t get the job I told him I’d never have accepted anyway because I’d never had such a disrespectful interview.

The new man sitting behind the desk radiated an aura of a brick wall. As someone with anxiety I’m highly keyed into the emotional states of people I’m talking to. To receive no feedback at all was my personal hell. After a perfunctory greeting he asked me with no inflection to sell him a pen.

I gathered the shreds of my courage and attempted the Herculean task he’d set me. Through my whole improvised spiel he resisted all attempts at engaging him, regarding me with a cold apathy as I touted the benefits of my fictitious pen.

Halfway through I broke into a cold sweat. My smile didn’t waver but it grew strained as I projected friendliness and warmth into the black hole of his heart. My thoughts scattered and my sales pitch grew redundant in the face of his nothingness. I finally concluded with a hard close and he simply nodded.

He glanced at my resume and commented, “You didn’t ask me to touch or hold it. Though I suppose I can understand from your previous line of work why you wouldn’t.” I shriveled and died inside knowing that I encouraged people to touch dildos all day long and had been too frazzled to offer him the pen.

He bid me a cool farewell. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. I had never been so rattled. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make him so unfriendly or if my threadbare clothes were what had made him treat me like dirt. I drove an hour and a half to get home, weeping intermittently.

I was therefore taken by complete surprise to receive a call the next day inviting me on board for their five week training program. The first man who’d interviewed me gushed on the phone about how the second guy had loved me and that I was going to be fantastic.

I was in shock. When I showed up to training the second interviewer was charming my new classmates, beaming and laughing. He was an utterly different person. To my dismay I learned he was the trainer for my district and would be my point of contact if I made it through training.

He joked with me later that his interview facade was just a tactic to see how people held up under pressure and I filed him into a category of my deepest enmity. I never forgave him for how small he made me feel that day, but I never showed him the depths of my fury.

I aced every test and went on to be valedictorian of the eight people who had survived the rigorous training process to earn a sales position. When I got my first paycheck I bought myself new clothes, the first non-thrifted things I’d owned in years.

[homunculus-argument]

I actually really like the thing when you're starting to get the hang of a new language, enough to understand and say simple sentences but you gotta get creative to get more complex thoughts across, like a puzzle. I remember a time in the restortation school when a classmate who wasn't natively finnish but did her best anyway dropped something and sighed, telling me "every day is monday this week. I have had four mondays this week." And I understood.

I don't think I speak much of spanish anymore, but in the nursing school training period I did there, I did manage to get by with making weird Tarzan sentences. I got a nosebleed at some point and startled another nurse. Not knowing the words for "nosebleed", "humidity", or "stress", I managed to string together: "This is ok. It is hot, it is cold, I have a bad day, I am sad, I have blood. This is normal for me." And she understood.

And sometimes you just say things weird, but it's better than not saying it. One time, I was stuck in a narrow hallway behind someone walking really slowly with a walker, and he apologised for being in the way. I was not in any hurry, but didn't know the spanish word for "hurry", but I did know enough words to try to circumvent it by borrowing the english "I have all the time in the world."

The man burst into one of those cackling old man laughters that they do when something in this world still manages to surprise them. He had to be somewhere between 70 and a 100 years old, and I guess if there was one thing he wasn't expecting to hear today, it would be a random blond vaguely baltic-looking fuck casually announce that he is the sole keeper and master of the very concept of time.

[evilkitten3]

#they would be the team to not blink at cannibalism

i maintain that their main beef with gaara was that his murders were so unproductive. if orochimaru had run into team eight he would've told them to give their sensei a gold star for proper shinobi-ing

it would've been really funny is team 8 had stayed as murder-happy for the rest of the manga as they were in the forest of death. not even as a major plot point just as a running gag. anything happens and team 8's default solution is homicide.

[gemini-sensei]

Thinking about bimbo!Reader who is everyone's stress relief toy again. (Includes girlcock!Tory and girlcock!Sam)

Everyone at the dojo just uses her to blow off steam at one point or another. She's there for that reason alone because she's crap at karate. She doesn't mind though, she's helping her friends after all. So what if Tory is a little rough with her? She loves it! So what if her jaw is sore after Demetri accidentally gags her on his cock? She loves it! So what if her ass is raw after Miguel is done after she's already gone limp and tired? Still she loves it!

Eventually it evolves into everyone having fun with her because Reader knows how to have a good time. Sure, she's still hanging around for that stress relief, but she's also picked up on what everyone likes 😏 so she makes sure everyone is satisfied too. Sam comes to her often because she's "always tense" an excuse Reader catches onto knowing she just wants to get her dick wet. Robby enjoys the gentler side of things and is always in need of attention, fucking and cuddling afterwards always makes him happy. Hawk comes around all the time because he loves hitting it from behind or having sloppy make out sessions with Reader, when he gets to grope and squeeze all her pudgy curves.

But one day she doesn't come to the dojo. And the next day she isn't there either. And the next day she doesn't show up.

By then everyone is worried, so the gang of friends go to check on her. Only to find her apartment is kind of a mess, which is usually isn't. Reader does pretty well at keeping her place clean. She's the only one living there after all.

They find her in her bedroom, curled up with a bucket. She's obviously not feeling well and when they ask her what's up she tells them that she's sick, probably with a stomach bug or something. Thinking that, she doesn't want them around in case she gets them sick. However, Sam and Robby want to help her feel better so they decide to make her some soup. Miguel helps by tidying up her apartment and giving it a nice sweeping. Hawk doesn't care if he gets sick, so he's right there with her helping her get some fresh clothes on and getting her a new bucket to puke in.

However, Demetri and Tory aren't so sure that it's just a stomach bug. So they make up an excuse to go to the store, saying they're gonna go get some over the counter meds for Reader. They are going to the store but not for meds.

They come back with five pregnancy tests, thanks to Demetri and his constant worrying. He wants to make sure that it's 100% accurate.

Reader has no idea why they would bring her pregnancy tests. She's not so sure of they're thinking. She just shrugs it off but everyone is telling her to take them.

So she does.

And one comes back positive. So she takes another one.

And it's positive.

And so is the next one.

And the next one.

And the next one...

She can't deny it and she starts crying. She doesn't understand how this happened, she's been on the pill. In tears, she makes herself throw up again and Sam helps her get cleaned up. They all try to calm her down but it doesn't work.

She doesn't calm down until Hawk has her in a big hug on her bed, sitting against the headboard with her laying back against his chest. He's so affectionate toward her, so is Miguel and Sam, so they're all over her. Meanwhile, Tory, Robby and Demetri are kind of awkwardly standing aside unsure of what to do. The three of them are also the ones freaking out on the inside the most, but they're trying not to let it show in front of Reader.

She starts getting worried because the baby could literally be any of theirs. She has no way of knows. There have been days she's fucked two of them, so it's literally a toss up as to who the baby's other parent could be.

However, none of them care about that. They only vare about Reader and how she's feeling about all of this, so they try to calm her down and stop thinking about frivolous stuff like who's baby it is. That isn't something they can work out right now, so they're not even worried about it. She's their #1 priority now, after all she's done for them - beyond the sex, she's been their friend and confidant, their rock, their biggest supporter. It's time they take care of her.

Sam is cuddled up to Reader, her head resting on her thighs as she holds her. Miguel is on her other side, head beside her belly that isn't showing yet. It's still soft and chubby, perfect to cuddle up to. Hawk is still holding her, one hand on her belly while his head rests on her shoulder. The three of them ensure she knows she's okay and don't let her talk badly about herself for not knowing who the other parent is. Hawk keeps kissing her cheek or neck, enough to tickle and it makes her laugh. Sam and Miguel give words of encouragement. It's way more than friendly that's for sure.

Meanwhile, in the background, Demetri and Troy are being more logical about it. They're kind of already getting into the money and doctors suddenly of things. Demetri is just drawn to researching everything he needs to know for all of this while Tory has pretty much already been a parent to her younger brother, so doctors don't worry her. It's money that worries her. And Robby. Poor Robby. They're also trying to calm his nerves. He's so worried.

None of them know what they're going to do but they're certain they're gonna figure it out. After all, they all love Reader, so why wouldn't they?

[gloomwitchwrites]

First of all, I 100% know this is an overused trope... but still....

What If 141 2 people 1 bed trope

Who cares that it's an overused trope? It's a classic for a reason!

I will never tire of a one bed trope. It can be steamy and sexy. It can be angsty. It can be tense. It can literally be so many things at once. It's also a wonderful canvas to play around, and I had a lot of fun with this one. I know you've waited for this one for a while. I hope you enjoy it! :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141 Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, multiple positions, rough kissing, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male & female receiving), admission of feelings, pretend sex, fake dating/married

Word Count: 6.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Fuck,” mutters Price.

You glance over your shoulder. Captain Price stands near the hotel window, the gauzy blinds closed but the thicker ones bunched to the sides, allowing in natural light. He’s staring at something happening in the parking lot.

“What it is?” you ask, starting to walk over to him.

“They might have found us.”

Dread flares hot, clenching the muscles in your stomach until it hurts. “Are you sure?”

Price nods, and then backs away from the window. “There’s no way they saw our faces during the infiltration. We wore masks. Might have tracked the stolen car.”

“We need to leave,” you say, but Price shakes his head.

“There’s too many of them, and they’re likely watching all exits on the main floor.” He sighs. “We need to play this right.”

The two of you are freshly showered, and the clothes you wore for the infiltration have already been discarded. Burned—actually, somewhere in the deserts of Arizona. At the moment, the two of you look like civilians.

“They can’t search the building, John. Not without bloodshed.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze darting across the room as his brain works something over. You fidget, picking at your nails. It’s a terrible habit. One you do when you’re nervous.

Price glances at you and your heart drops. “They look official, and that’s probably all that matters. The scrawny teenager at the front desk isn’t going to put up a fight if the credentials appear legitimate.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, striding toward the window to look for yourself.

Captain Price is right. They do look official. They also look fucking terrifying which would scare anyone into compliance if you don’t know what to look for.

“We’re on the bottom floor,” you say, stepping back.

“I know,” growls Price. He pivots, examining the entire room.

He goes for the car keys and shuts them inside the safe. The only other thing in the room is a duffle bag full of plain clothes and generic toiletries. Price pushes clothes aside and then draws out the pistol hiding beneath it all. He checks the clip and then preps the barrel.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?” you ask, startled.

Price walks over to the singular bed in the room, tucking the gun beneath the pillows. “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely,” you affirm.

“Then take off your clothes,” repeats Price, reaching behind his head with one hand to grab the collar of his shirt. He pulls it over and off, tossing it aside.

“Spread it around. Make a mess,” he instructs as he goes for the belt on his jeans.

For a moment, you’re stunned, staring at Captain Price’s bare chest. While he’s muscular, it isn’t from a life in the gym. He is thick in all the right places. A solid wall with a beautiful dusting of dark hair that travels downward.

The belt is gone, and that too is tossed aside.

Without removing your gaze, you tentatively discard your shirt, but keep your bra on. It’s a barrier. A safety net. Price isn’t even glancing at you, but you do notice some color at the tops of his cheeks. A soft pink that makes your thoughts spiral outward to imagine if this gentle blush is the same color as the head of his cock.

Price’s jeans go next, already discarded before you move on to the next article of clothing. He’s only in socks and black boxer briefs. There is so much of him on display that you’re starting to forget yourself.

He glances at you, and that color in his cheeks darken. “You’re still dressed.”

You open your mouth to answer but then you hear a shout from down the hall and sharp banging on a door. They’re far too close.

This urges you on, moving with faster intention, and once you’re down to just your bra and underwear, you finally glance at Price again.

Price—who is naked. Completely bare. And you have a full view of what he’s been packing underneath all that.

Fuck.

He approaches the bed, and tugs back the sheets. The muscles in his arms and back tense as he crumples the bedding to sexed perfection—as if the two of you have been going at it for hours.

Price sits down on the edge of the bed and slides underneath, his legs parting enough that you get a glimpse of everything. This man isn’t even fully hard but from what you can see, it would be a tight fit if you actually sat on him.

Lifting a pillow, Price checks for the pistol and then sets it back, settling into the sheets. He frowns slightly when his attention returns to you.

“All of that has to go.”

“Does it?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

There’s another thunderous pounding on a nearby door followed by shouting.

“It does if we’re going to make it out of here alive.” Price shrugs, and then smirks. “Could help you.”

Sighing heavily and you reach behind your back, unclasping the bra. You hurl it at him and Price catches it out of the air. Crossing your arms over your chest, you hurry toward the bed. But you don’t make it beneath the sheets.

“Everything,” repeats Price.

Reaching out, Price snags the thin cotton fabric and pulls down, revealing you to him and the room. Instinct as you grasping for control, hands splayed over his large forearms as he gives the fabric another yank.

You cannot form a response. Words leave you as Price drags you into the bed with him.

“Sorry about this,” he grumbles, that color returning to his cheeks in full force. It’s cute actually—how sheepish he looks.

You swallow, and lick your lips. “It’s fine.”

Price leans back against the pillows, guiding you with him. “Get on top.”

Straddling his hips, you settle yourself over him. You try—and fail—to not notice the way the hard length of him nestles against your pussy. You keep one arm crossed over your breasts but all it does is hides your nipples from him. Your other hand is splayed wide and pressed against his chest.

“We’re married,” he says, staring into your eyes. “That’s the story. I’ll do the talking. You act like the scared wife when they come barging in.”

You nod, and Price releases a deep exhalation. His hands rest on your thighs. They’re a brand. Warm. All you can think about. They move upward to settle on your hips.

“Pretend you’re riding me,” he murmurs.

With a gentle hand, Price grasps your wrist, drawing your arm away from your breasts. You don’t resist, and he brings your other palm to rest against his chest.

“Pretend,” he reiterates, hands returning to your hips. Price creates the motion by dragging you back and forth, imitating a rocking motion. Though you’re stationary, your pussy still drags against the length of his cock.

You notice the tremor in his jaw as your bodies rub against each other. This is affecting him as much as it is you.

“Pretend,” you say back to him.

Price nods and then grabs for the television remote from the bedside table. He turns it on and then ups the volume. You imitate the motion he created, rocking back and forth, sliding yourself along his cock, pretending you don’t notice how wet you’ve become over the course of the last few minutes.

His hands return to your hips, and then Price sinks back completely into the pillows, his eyelids softening as he gazes up at you. It’s far too intimate of a stare, and it’s only compounded when one of his hands meander upward to slide over your stomach and then between your breasts. You gasp as his thumb traces the underside of your breast.

Head tilting back, you grind downward, finding yourself diving into the warmth that’s starting to pool low in your belly.

A sharp pounding at the door has you snapping to attention. Every muscle tenses. Seizes.

“You’re fine,” coos Price. “We’ll be fine.”

The pounding comes again and then a yell from behind it. The voice is muffled. Not only by the door but from the television.

Swallowing, you try to connect into it again, rolling your hips, imagining that Price is your husband—that you love him—and this is simply an exploration of that love.

When you roll your hips again, Price sits up slightly, his warm breath brushing against your breast. A tingle shudders through you, and Price groans before his tongue grazes over your nipple, bringing it to a point.

“Knew you’d taste sweet,” he says softly at the same moment the hotel door bursts open.

One second, you’re atop Price, and the next his arms are around you, turning you away from the door to hide you from sight. You’re not on your back but Price has shoved you toward the bed as he sits up, creating a barrier between you and the intruders.

The tactical-clad trio entering the room—with a hotel worker nervously trailing behind—

don’t even get a word in before Price starts going off on them.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

His accent is gone, replaced by an American one. It’s incredibly good, and his feigned anger even more so. The men entering faulter under Price’s tirade. They likely weren’t expecting this, and Price uses this opportunity to push the advance.

“We’re fucking busy in here. Fuck off!”

The man at the head of the trio clears his throat and holds up a hand, but Price chucks one of the water glasses at the man. The guy ducks and it shatters against the wall. The hotel worker at their back squeaks and pushes forward.

“We’re so sorry. Just a search for some prison escapees. We’re clearly in the wrong room.”

Prison escapees? You want to laugh but think better of it. Instead, you press your face against Price’s arm, feigning sheepishness.

Price’s lips turn into a snarl, and the hotel worker blanches.

“We’ll give you a complimentary stay for the inconvenience,” the man babbles before waving his arms to usher the other men out.

For a moment, you don’t think it’ll work, but they go.

You and Price don’t sigh with relief until the door shuts. His forehead presses against yours, chest heaving.

“Nice accent,” you whisper and this draws a smile from his lips.

“Like it more than this one?” he asks, his regular accent returning.

“Nope,” you say. “This one suits you fine.”

Price’s gaze draws over your exposed body and then lands on your face. It’s soft. Sensual. You’re frozen beneath it, breath catching as his fingers brush along the line of your jaw.

You’re not sure who moves first but his lips are on yours and then you’re moaning. Price rolls you onto your back, each kiss more demanding and fiercer than the last. He tastes of the mint toothpaste he used earlier and smells of soap.

Reaching between your bodies, you find him hard, and there is no other need within you but the one that craves for him to be inside. To fuck you ceaselessly.

You stroke him and Price groans into your mouth, his hand wrapping around your throat. Hooking your legs behind him, you guide him to your entrance. With a light press of your heels, Price takes your meaning.

There is no gentle pretense. No soft kisses or playful coaxing. Price goes all in, and you break the kiss to gasp aloud, nails digging into his back. Price is thick and having him inside you is a deliciously painful stretch.

It is all desperate the way he moves. Price isn’t gentle. It’s skin slapping against skin. It is sweat and groans. A savage hardness that borders on hysteria.

Your hand reaches behind you to press against the headboard as Price fucks you into the bed, but even that is shaking, banging loudly against the wall. It’s clear even over the drone from the television. The people next door will know exactly what the two of you are up to.

Price is relentless. A man starved. He nips at your bottom lip. Sucks it into his mouth. And when that isn’t enough, he goes for your neck and then your breasts, making your nipples smart and throb under his teeth and tongue.

The orgasm comes sharp and hot, bursting forth like a wave. And when you squeeze around him, Price is right there with you, his cum coating your insides as he too finds his end.

The two of you are all heavy breath. Sweaty limbs.

Price nuzzles the side of your neck, placing soft kisses there until he travels up to find your lips again. These are gentle. Not desperate like before.

When there’s a moment to speak, it is you that breaks the silence.

“So much for pretending.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s the middle of the day but you wouldn’t be able to tell.

A storm is raging—the rain thick and heavy. It falls from the sky in large drops that soak clothes and slick the skin. It’s a bit cold, too. A little chilly. The kind of wet chill that hardens the nipples and brings a shiver to your bones.

“Here. You’re soaked.”

Kyle presents a towel. It’s off-white and a bit frayed. But what can you expect from a motel in the middle of nowhere? Having a towel at all is nice. At least it isn’t threadbare.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, gently dapping the rough-textured material against your face.

Kyle strides over to the heating unit. It’s dirty and barely anchored to the wall. He hits a few buttons and then the thing turns on. It’s loud. Clunky. But heat starts to seep from the slats, warming the room.

After drying your face, you begin to remove outer pieces of clothing. Kyle might be your teammate, but there isn’t really anywhere to hide but the bathroom. Knowing the state of most motels, you don’t really want to find out either.

Kyle has the same idea. He dries off with his own towel, removing soaked articles of clothing as he goes. You try not to look—to be discreet—but it’s hard not to steal a peek. Kyle is all toned muscle and firmness. There’s a light dusting of hair on his chest. It’s a bit thicker around his navel. It trails downwards, and your mind wanders to a place it shouldn’t.

You glance away but not fast enough. His gaze roams upward, finding you, and there he pauses, observing you as you did him.

Pretending is best.

You attempt to act like you don’t notice him at all, turning your back like you’re incredibly interested with the wallpaper that likely hasn’t been replaced in years.

It’s his heat that draws your attention—that steals your breath, and makes every muscle in your body tense with anticipation.

“You’re shivering,” he murmurs.

Kyle is so close. Close enough that his breath brushes against your bare shoulder. You’re just in your bra and underwear, the only items that aren’t completely soaked from the rain.

He inhales, and that exhalation teases your flesh again. Giving in, you close your eyes, sinking into Kyle’s presence.

When you open them again, you notice a mirror hanging on the wall. It’s great if you were trying to plan an outfit, but that isn’t what you notice.

Instead, you see yourself. And Kyle.

The backs of his knuckles lightly caress the side of your arm. His head is tipped forward and turned inward like you’ll turn around any moment to kiss him.

The urge is there. Tugging. Wanting you to do just that.

The two of you are always walking around the other, seeking comfort and closeness but never seizing it. Maybe you should. Maybe—turning around is the best thing you can do for yourself.

“Kyle,” you breathe, and his little hum in answer tightens that string.

Without hesitation, you do turn.

Kyle’s lips are right there. They’re parted slightly. Inviting.

His arm drapes across your waist, hand splaying wide against your stomach, pressing until the two of you are sandwiched together.

It’s not like you don’t want this. You do. You want Kyle. Have since the moment he introduced himself to you. But the two of you have always remained professional in every space you occupy.

And now there is no one around.

No one to see.

No one to know.

Your head tips back in answer, and Kyle leans into it, pressing his lips to yours. It is sweet. Gentle. More of an ask than anything else.

And you reply, meeting him in equal measure. The pressure on your stomach increases just as Kyle’s other hand wraps around the front of your throat, holding you still. Each kiss is a claiming, one you freely submit to.

Kyle is all sugared-warmth, and you want to rot your teeth.

Draping your arm around the back of his neck, you pull him closer. Kyle nips. Bites. Sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before soothing the burn with a few tender kisses. Heat blossoms in your core before morphing into an aching slickness.

You’ve been putting him off—brushing him aside.

Why wait any longer when Kyle is all you crave?

“Fucking hell, love,” he groans against your mouth.

Your lips part, and Kyle slides his tongue inside. His taste is everything, but you want to know him everywhere.

Your hand seeks, brushing against his hardness through his boxer briefs. When you slip your hand beneath the elastic band, Kyle’s only response to kiss you harder.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you start to stroke what you can with the little room you have. Your thumb brushes over the head of his cock and Kyle draws back.

“I’ve wanted this since I met you,” he says, voice a bit rough.

Twisting in his grip, you turn to face him. “Can I show you how much I’ve wanted you, too?” you ask, pressing your breasts against his chest.

Kyle loosens his hold and you drop to your knees, taking his boxer briefs with you. His cock is gorgeous. It curves upward slightly, and a pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit.

He whispers your name, and then you have him in hand. Stroking once. Twice.

You lick off that bead. Savor his taste. Go back for more.

Kyle grabs the back of your head, drawing you to him. You open your mouth. Swallow him down. Throating him until you gag.

“Fuck,” he groans, elongating the vowel.

You work him with hand and mouth, keeping a steady rhythm that has him weak and wanton. You have all the control—until you don’t.

“Let me fuck your mouth, love. Please.”

The please is what does it. You release his cock, placing both hands on his thighs. With a pleased growl, Kyle keeps your head stationary. You anticipate the first thrust, and it is sinful. The movement goes straight to your pussy as you imagining him fucking you there like he fucks your mouth.

Fingers dig into muscled thigh. You want to touch yourself, to tease your clit while he does it. He is a god above you—Adonis.

“Can’t wait to taste your cunt, love,” rasps Kyle. “Can’t wait to make you drip for me.”

His desire fuels your own, and you urge him on, gently cupping him with one hand, thumb lightly rubbing the sensitive strip of flesh there.

Kyle’s hips stutter, and you relax your throat, humming around his cock as your lips meet the base. He holds you there, and you take it all, thighs chaffing from the friction of you rubbing them together in anticipation.

You blink up at him, and Kyle wipes away a tear with his thumb.

“My turn,” he murmurs.

You’re on your feet and then on your back in seconds. All the wind is knocked out of you, and then Kyle’s tongue is there, sliding through your slickness. Parting. Teasing the opening of your vagina before trailing upward to circle around your clit.

Gasping, your hands reach for him. Kyle grabs both wrists, keeps them planting on your stomach as he fucks you with his tongue. His shoulders dig into your thighs, keeping them wide. He’s stronger than you even as your thighs quiver, wanting to close, wanting to shut.

Kyle groans against your pussy, and then he’s on your clit, moving in such an easy, languid way that everything explodes outward. A shudder passes from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. Your pussy clenches. Unclenches. Clenches again.

Kyle doesn’t let up. He doesn’t cease. Every stroke strikes true and then your body betrays itself, overstimulation setting in, and the urge to wiggle away is paramount.

But just as you push at him—just as your body draws back. Kyle is releasing your wrists, pushing himself up and over you, spreading those legs even wider to slide inside.

The bed creaks beneath you, and then he’s thrusting.

Your moans of pleasure become one with the rain.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Single lamp. Lone bed.

Peeling paint. Dusty corners.

“Something’s on your mind.” Your voice is the only sound in the room other than the AC unit.

Soap’s sigh is soft and small as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

It’s the last night before the potential end. Before victory or failure. Just the two of you now with the plan to meet up with others later.

He nods, and you take a tentative step forward. “We attended the briefing. You know the details.”

“Aye.”

“Then what has you worried?” you ask, taking another step in Soap’s direction.

A warm, orange glow emits from the singular lamp on the bedside table. It’s not enough light to illuminate the cheap peeling paint or the dirt in the corners of the room. It only gives life to the bed and the side of Soap’s face.

It’s not like you have an unlimited budget. A motel room is the best the two of you could manage for some rest before moving on. The man at the desk didn’t even glance up when he asked if they only wanted a room for an hour.

You had asked for two beds. The man at the desk replied that no one who stops here asks for that.

One bed it is.

One bed.

Somehow, you’ll have to sleep beside Soap while simultaneously shoving down the urge to reach out to him.

Sighing, Soap leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. His gaze drifts slightly as if he’s not focusing on anything in particular. Running his fingers through his short mohawk, he tugs on the ends, mussing the freshly washed strands, creating a wavy mess.

Just that one movement as you leaning forward, nostrils flaring to inhale that clean scent.

“Adaptability,” he answers. Finally.

Instead of sitting on the bed beside him, you sink to your knees, resting your arm on the bed, and your chin on your arm.

The two of you have been on missions before but never together like this.

Never alone.

Keeping your gaze downward, you notice just how close you are to him—and how Soap leans in your direction, the edge of his knee brushing against the side of your hand.

It’s a small contact, but he’s warm, and that warmth is transferring into yourself, unspooling outward. It’s a difficult thing—because all this time you’ve harbored feelings for him, and yet have never acted on them.

“You’re quick on your feet, Soap,” you murmur, one finger absently extended to brush over the curve of his knee.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You can call me Johnny.”

Johnny. You’ve never called him that. Soap, sure. Sergeant MacTavish? All the time.

“I thought Ghost only had that right.”

Only Ghost calls Soap ‘Johnny.’ That’s understood by everyone.

Soap shrugs. “He did.” He glances at you, his smile widening. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

Something swirls in your stomach, twisting like a knife.

“How would you like to hear it?” you reply.

Johnny’s smile, which is so wide and teasing, softens into a sultry smirk. “I have options?”

“You do.”

Johnny’s usual playfulness emerges. “Say it like you’re angry with me.”

“Johnny,” you say, deepening your voice to sound like Ghost.

He bursts out laughing, falling back onto the bed, clutching his stomach. “Oh, aye. I’ll give you that.”

“What else?” you tease. “I demand more.”

“Say it like you’re annoyed with me.”

You do just that, and Johnny sits up, turning on his side.

“Again,” you prompt.

The middle of Johnny’s brow creases and then his hand cradles the side of your face. He closes the distance, kissing you deeply—as if you are his lover and not a friend.

But you don’t pull away. You indulge yourself, kissing him back just as sweetly.

You’re not sure how much time passes, just that it does, and his small retreat after it’s done is all you have in acknowledging its passing.

The withdrawal is short. Johnny doesn’t move away. He keeps his hand on your cheek. The tip of his nose nearly brushing yours.

“Say it now,” he breathes, voice raspy.

“Johnny,” but it’s not what you intended to say.

He sighs. “Again.”

“Johnny.”

This time he groans, and then your lips are fusing, becoming one. You’re dragged off the floor and into his arms, tangling in his heat, forgetting yourself completely.

“Johnny,” you repeat, and then your shirt is gone, followed by your bra.

He nips at the curve of your breasts before sucking your nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze flesh and you say his name again until it becomes a strangled moan.

The front of your jeans is open, and his hand is there, cupping your sex, fingers dragging through your wetness.

“Johnny,” but it’s to stop him, to remind him that this cannot go on.

“Fucking hell. Love the way you say my name.”

This melts your resolve. Makes your legs spread wider. Makes you shove at your pants and create plenty of space.

Johnny knows. He understands.

He yanks them down even as he peppers your breasts with little nips and kisses. Your fingers drags through his hair as he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, bringing it to perky attention.

One finger slides inside, and you groan loudly, legs falling wide as Johnny settles himself between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, claiming your mouth and pumping his finger. You whimper as he inserts a second. “Wanted you so bad.”

Your pussy flutters, squeezing around him. It is Johnny that groans this time, and it is a primal sound.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks. “Please.”

“Johnny,” you breathe. “Johnny.”

“Need a yes or no. Tell me. Do you want me? I’ve wanted you.”

You answer by finding him—guiding him to the place you need him to.

With a low growl, Johnny pins your arms above your head, slotting his pelvis against yours, the head of his cock sinking in until you’re taking all of him.

“Johnny!”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he croons, starting to thrust.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I can’t tell what blood is yours and what isn’t.”

“Can fucking do it myself.”

“Ghost—”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Simon,” you snap, and he stops fidgeting.

Behind the plain balaclava, you see the fire in Lieutenant Riley’s eyes. This man is your superior. At least, right now he is. But the mission is done. It’s over. Yet the two of you are stranded, and making contact with Price is going to take time.

Not to mention that Simon is injured, and you have no fucking idea where at.

“Let me help you,” you say as soothingly as possible.

You don’t want to fight with him. All you want is to help Simon, to clean him up, and get him into bed. Rest and healing are what he needs right now. Contacting Price can wait. Base can stew for a while longer.

The two of you are in a motel room in the middle of fucking nowhere America. It’s shit overall, but it will have to do. There’s no way anyone is searching for the two of you out here. You drove until you nearly ran out of gas, and then you refilled and drove some more. Simon was in the back of the car, covered in blood.

But he was awake. Moving. Not a head injury, and not enough to get him immediate medical treatment. Not like he would have allowed you to take him to a hospital anyway. Lieutenant Riley is fucking stubborn. Sometimes infuriatingly so.

Simon stares, hard, his dark eyes intense behind the balaclava. He blinks, and then pushes up from the chair, keeping his gaze trained on you.

“Lieutenant,” you mutter, annoyed.

As Simon stands and attempts to take a step forward, his left leg wobbles, and he nearly topples forward. Your arms go out to catch him, holding him steady. He’s a big guy, and he seems to know this because he tries to prop himself up using the chair.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” you snap.”

“Listen—”

“I’m not arguing with you Simon Riley.”

Using his full name shuts him up. It’ll likely earn you a reprimand later, but fuck it, you’re over this.

“Stay there.” You shove him back down into the chair and head into the bathroom.

There is a single overhead light. Flipping the switch turns it on and the fan. It’s a tight space, but thankfully the shower isn’t also a tub. That would be a nightmare getting him in. Instead, there is a sink, a toilet, and a dividing wall that cuts the room in half. It’s more like a locker shower but it’ll work.

Reaching in, you turn the handle. You jump back as cold water shoots out of the shower head. After waiting for a few seconds, steam starts to rise.

You take a deep breath, knowing what you have to do. “You got this,” you murmur, heading back into the room.

Simon leans forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees.

You hold out your hand. “Let’s go.”

Lieutenant Riley’s head swivels in your direction. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” you reply, holding firm. “Come on.”

With a deep sigh, Simon reaches out and slides his hand into yours. It’s warm. Calloused. You squeeze it and step forward, extending your other arm to wrap around his torso. Simon stands. Wobbles. But you snake your arm around him, and then it’s a slow trek into the bathroom.

Simon is limping, but he’s showing no other signs that his injury hurts him. Might be minor, or he’s just good at covering up the pain.

Once the two of you are inside the bathroom, you realize just how small the space is. Maneuvering Simon to the shower is difficult, a weird dance to wiggle around the door and toilet to the opening of the shower.

You retreat slightly, and Simon leans against the wall, his eyelids closing as he takes a deep breath.

“You good?” you ask, concern creasing your brow.

Simon nods. “I’ll manage.” His eyelids open slowly and then he stares into the shower. “You want me in there?”

“You’ll need to remove a few things first,” you reply, gesturing toward his uniform.

Simon snorts. “Trying to get me naked?”

“You wish,” you retort, even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Need help?”

At first, Simon doesn’t say anything. He just reaches for his belt, removing it slowly with one hand.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you mumble, starting to turn away.

“Wait.”

You freeze, and then glance over your shoulder. “What is it?”

Simon shrugs. “What if I slip? Might need you to catch me.”

This bastard.

“Then I’ll stay,” you reply cooly, pretending that this doesn’t affect you.

But it does. It’s reshaping you, and Simon’s slow undressing isn’t helping things. He keeps his gaze on you the entire time, and you purposefully keep your eyes averted, when really you want to look. You want to know what he’s like under all that.

The belt goes. So does his tactical gear and jacket. Next is his shirt followed by his balaclava. You sneak a peek then, and Simon grins at you like he knew you’d look eventually.

“I’ll need some help with these. Getting them down that is.” Simon gestures towards his pants and you feel your face grow so hot you fear it might explode.

“Sure.”

You reach for him, silently chastising your shaking fingers. This is too much, even though you like it, and want more from it. You undo the button and zipper. Sliding your hands beneath the band, you shimmy Simon’s pants to the floor. He kicks them away and all that’s left are his boxer briefs. They’re tight and you notice the massive bulge in front.

Fuck.

“You can do the rest,” you reply, glancing away.

Simon removes them, and then he starts forward, arms outstretched to balance himself as he enters the shower.

“Fucking hell,” moans Simon as the hot water hits his body.

The groan that comes after is deep, and so sultry you feel a bolt of pleasure spike from your pussy.

“Should join me.”

“No thanks,” you say, averting your gaze away from Simon’s muscled backside.

One moment you’re facing the wall, and the next you’re under the spray of water.

“What the fuck,” you shriek, stumbling backward as Simon chuckles. Muttering under your breath, you stare down at your soaked clothing. “Goddamn it.” You start removing articles of clothing, the wet fabric peeling away from your skin.

“Fucking fine, Simon.”

You shed everything and storm under the spray, only for Simon to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him. There is no pause between then and the moment his lips find yours. It is sweet, and warm. You instantly melt, enjoying every second.

But it’s fleeting.

You draw back, heart hammering in your chest.

“You’re covered in blood. Remember?”

Simon shrugs and then offers you the soap. “Clean me then.”

You do it, and when you’re done, he does the same for you. It’s far too intimate, and Simon’s gentleness is surprising. Once finished, you dry and bandage the wound on his leg. It’s not terrible—and will likely need stitches—but it’s not bleeding anymore.

The singular bed in the middle of the room is far too small. Not with Simon in at, spread out and naked under the sheets.

You slide in beside him, not knowing where you should settle. Simon is large, taking up most of the best. The only place is curled up next to his side.

Turning your resolve to steal, you settle in. You begin to turn away from Simon, but his arm shoots out, grasping your waist. You’re yanked across the bed, only to find yourself in Simon’s arms.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Stop pretending, love. We both know what’s going on. Don’t deny it.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Simon—”

“We’ve been making eyes at each other for fucking months. And now we’re alone. You think I don’t see the opportunity?”

Simon’s hand slides over the curve of your ass, and then dips beneath your shirt. You’re not wearing underwear, and when his fingers brush over your pussy, you gasp, pressing into him.

“You’re already wet for me,” growls Simon as he drags a finger through your folds. “So fucking wet.” He presses in, and your pussy parts for him.

“We can’t, Simon. You’re injured.”

“Not so much,” he coos. “Especially since I can do this.” On this, Simon drags the tips of his finger along the inside your pussy, hitting that sweet spot.

You moan, fingers digging into his chest as your back arches to press you further down on him.

“It’s just my leg that’s injured.” Simon’s lips brush against your cheek and then the edge of your ear. His breath is warm against your skin. “I can still fuck you. Have you on top. Bounce you on my cock.” Simon gives the curve of your ear the faintest kiss. “Would you like that, love? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“We—we—”

With his other hand, Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you against him, silencing whatever it is you’re trying to say. He seizes your mouth in a fierce kiss. You open for him, and his tongue slides inside. He tastes nice, and you want to sink into the feeling. Have him devour you completely.

“Let me in,” he murmurs against your lips.

You push up, doing exactly as he wants you to do. You settle on his lap, his hard cock pressed up against your thigh.

With a low growl, Simon removes your shirt, leaving you completely bare to his gaze.

“Much better,” he says, cupping your breasts as you lean on his chest, lifting your hips.

His cock slides through your folds, and then you start the descent, moaning as he splits you in two. The stretch is intense—nearly sharp with pain, but laced with pleasure. Simon’s eyelids flutter slightly, and his groan is pure sin.

Simon lightly squeezes your breasts one more time before his hands find your hips. He lifts you up, and then back down, bouncing you on his cock. You cling to him, allowing him to use you, to fuck you in whatever way he wants.

Each grunt and growl from him only makes you wetter. Hungrier.

“I’m gonna come inside you.”

It’s not a question. There is no other option, and you wouldn’t take anything else even if there was.

“Please,” you whimper.

Simon’s hands tighten, his hips thrusting upward to meet every downward movement. He sits up, his mouth clamping around a nipple to nip and suck. Your orgasm roars up from nowhere, and then you’re clenching around him, milking Simon’s cock as his own end greets him.

taglist:

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@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

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@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

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[cyberm4n]

alastor and lucifer sharing you

alastor x reader x lucifer headcanons

pt2

cw: 18+, semi explicit smut? dom! alastor, dom! lucifer, alastor basically pitches a hinge relationship

■ alastor and lucifer had known this was a long time coming.

■ between the gifts lucifer makes you and the little friendly affections alastor only gave you, it didn't take long for either of them to realize the predicament.

■ at first, neither want to share, and neither are entertaining the idea of the other having you.

■ however alastor gets an idea as lucifer is arguing he'd be the most likely to please me the most

■ alastor has never been a fan of touch, not that he would deny intimacy with you, but he definitely doesn't prefer it.

■ but standing infront of him is a man who prides himself on treating his partners well, both in and outside of the bedroom.

■ i imagine in this scenario alastor is less concerned about being your partner but more about making sure lucifer can't have you all to himself

■ alastor doesn't like to share, but if it means he gets to have possession of you without the intimacy, he's going to take it.

"maybe there's a simple compromise here after all" alastor says, looking down at the man standing before him, lucifer sighing in frustration.

"oh really? and what would you propose?" he says with snark, not expecting what alastor suggests even a little.

■ it's a simple arrangement, really.

■ lucifer gets to do whatever he wants, gets to have you, but alastor gets to watch and maybe occasionally participate

■ but of course, they have to convince you too.

"i— you guys want to what?" you'd say, they'd both approached you while you were in your room. you sat on the small couch while they sat across from you on the bed.

"darling," alastor would tut, giving you a look "it's a simple question. yes or no" he says, and it's getting harder to ignore the hand lucifer had placed on your thigh, slowly working it's way up.

they'd started out this conversation by explicitly stating if you were uncomfortable at all, everything stops no questions asked.

but they wanted to hear you say yes.

■ i think they'd be like "good cop, bad cop"

■ lucifer, who's been between your thighs for what feels like hours, cooing such sweet praises everytime he coaxed an orgasm out of you.

■ alastor, who's sitting behind you, leaning against the headboard as he cradles your head in his lap. giving condescending comments as you go numb in their arms.

■ they balance each other out and it works pretty well tbh

■ oh, it's going to be a long night.

this was kind of rushed and im not 100% happy with it but i had to stop the brainrot about those two

part two maybe??