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wreckofawriter · 1 year

Text

Only If You Catch Me

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pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred had always been frustrated by your endeavors with other men, especially other men that always looked quite a bit like him. after a disastrous mistake during quidditch practice you find yourself wondering how you had never seen fred Weasley in the light you saw him in now

word count: 4.4k

warnings: jealousy, language (maybe?), only proof read once so sorry for any mistakes!

a/n: this is my first big piece in ages, I hope you guys enjoy and im so sorry for my prolonged absence i fell off on writing for a while and im just now getting back to it

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Some things were just facts, plain and simple; the sky is blue, two and two is four and you had a type.

“Another ginger I see.” Alicia murmured as you sat down across from her, pints of butter beer clinking together. Your eyes were locked with a pretty freckled boy by the bar.

You huffed even though she was quite right, this must have been the third redhead that you set sights on this year. “Well William got boring and,” You paused wrinkling your nose, “-pushy”

The Three Broomsticks was packed, the sounds of chatter and warmth guarding you from the icy cold of the blizzard that had swept through Hogsmeade. You and Alicia had joined the dozens of students seeking cover in the popular pub and quickly snagged a small table near a large fireplace where you now looked out on the sea of flushed faces and smiles.

“With your type it's a wonder your last name isn’t Weasley.” Your friend chuckled and you laughed.

“If I could have gotten my hands on Charlie, it would be.” You replied, your silly crush on the older Weasley brother lasting from your first year to what you were sure would be your last.

Alicia giggled, taking a large swig from her pint, licking the foam off her top lip. “Why not one of the twins then?”

“What twins?” A voice asked from behind you.

“She couldn’t be talking about us now could she, Georgie?” Fred jested.

“No no,” The other replied, “I mean what could Spinnet possibly want from us?”

Alicia rolled her eyes with great effort, “Trust me when I say I want nothing to do with you. As for my friend here, I don't know if I can say the same.” she said with a smug grin and you sent her a furious look.

Fred smirked, leaning over the back of your chair, his large palms ghosting your shoulders, “Is that true? Do you need something from us?” He leaned in even further, his nose brushing your hair, “from me?”

You began to look a bit red as he pulled away, “Please Weasley,” you managed to scoff “since when do I need things from you? In fact, I believe you still have my Charms notes.”

Fred had come to stand in front of you now, George joining his side, “It's just that your notes are so much better for writing Flitwick’s essay. ” He argued.

“You don’t even take notes.” You said, exasperated.

“Exactly” The twins replied in unison.

Alicia snickered beside you.

Chairs appeared and Fred and George sat. The table seemed half the size it was before as Fred's elbow knocked against yours.

“Made yourselves at home have you?” You spoke, wincing.

Fred just grinned and leaned purposefully closer, thighs now brushing.

You slid towards Alicia who was turning a laugh into a cough and set your eyes back on the boy with freckles.

“You headed to the Slytherin match next weekend?” Alicia asked absently.

“Of course.” George replied, “I’ve bet Lee a galleon that Malfoy catches a bludger with his nose.” he chuckled, “He reckons it’ll be his gut.”

You all smiled at the idea, no one hated Malfoy more than those on the Gryffindor quidditch team.

“We also have business to do.” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“You don't have any more of those nosebleed nougats do you?” You asked, eyes still across the room, “I’ve got to get out of Binns’ class tomorrow.”

Alicia's eyebrows shot up, you hardly missed History of Magic, or as you liked to call it, nap hour. “Why's that?”.

“No reason.” You mumbled, intently staring into your butterbeer.

Fred’s eyes darted between the two of you.

“Of course we’ve got some.” grinned George, oblivious, “2 sickles a pei-.”

“Or for free if you tell us what you're up to.” Fred interrupted, catching a strange look from his brother.

“I'm not up to anything!” You gasped with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Alicias eyes had narrowed to slits and Fred had never looked more unconvinced.

Your face began to grow hot and you found yourself wishing you had more grace in the act of lying.

“Oh come off it,” George said, “If she wants to snog Murphy instead of hearing about the seventh generation of goblin rebellions, who are we to judge?”

You were glowing pink now, sending a vicious look at George who had taken to sipping his drink innocently.

Fred looked appalled, his face contorted like he had just caught a whiff of something horrible, “Murphy!”

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed angrily, glazing across the room again to be sure he hadn’t heard, “I'm trying to keep it quiet.”

Fred was fuming, “Who wouldn’t, swapping spit with a git like that.”

You scoffed, pulling out a small coin purse, “Can I just have some nougat?”

“Nope.” Fred responded, voice suddenly ferocious, “We’re out.”

You were beginning to grow frustrated, “George just said you had some.”

Fred glared at you, “We’re out.” he repeated his nose high in the air.

You turned to George looking for help but he threw you an I’m-not-getting-into-this look and you were forced to round back on Fred.

You glared at each other for a moment before Fred caved, "Fine we’ve got some,” He huffed, “Three Galleons.”

Your mouth dropped, “George said 2 sickles!”

He crossed his arms, “They’re in high demand.”

You stood, chair flying back into the wall with a loud crack, “You’re a complete prick.” you said sharply snatching your bag and sweeping past Fred and over to meet Finn Murphy who was now standing to leave the pub.

“Well I think you handled that well.” Alicia said, grinning at Fred who looked as though he had been slapped.

George, who looked all too happy with himself for instigating such an interesting conversation, helped himself to the remains of your butterbeer as you and Murphy bowed out into the flurry of white followed closely by Fred’s glare.

“Looks as though she's gonna snog every redhead at school before you.” Alicia snicked.

“Yeah,” George snorted, “You might want to keep an eye on Ginny.”

Alicia giggled even harder, pressing a hand to her lips in an attempt to keep her drink in her mouth.

Fred could hardly hear them, too busy envisioning your latest with large boils all over his face or perhaps vomiting indefinitely.

Alicia managed to contain herself and shot Fred a sympathetic glance, “I've been trying you know, I keep bringing you up but she seems far more interested in Charlie.”

“Charlie!” He guffawed, “But he's been gone for ages!”

“Well he seemed to have made quite the impression.” Alicia chuckled.

“He was captain when she was appointed to the team.” George pointed out.

“Yeah when she was TWELVE” Fred gasped.

Alicia couldn’t help it, she had started laughing again, “Relax,” She spoke between breaths, “It’s just a silly school girl crush.”

Fred looked unconvinced and began to tap his heel incessantly against the floor.

“Take it as a complement!” She continued, “Charlie looks quite a bit like you, I mean you are related after all.”

Fred was not taking it as pleasantly as she suggested and began to rap his foot on the ground even faster, “We’ve got to do something.”

“We?” George snorted, “This is all you mate. I’m not the one in love with her.”

Freds ears grew pink, “I’m not in love with her!” he sputtered.

“Whatever you say.” Alicia spoke rolling her eyes.

The truth was that if Fred wasn't in love with you, he was so close he may as well have been. At the very least he had been pining after you for years and he had never been particularly quiet about it. In fact he was the opposite of quiet about it. His flirtatious remarks and dazzling complements were quite consistent. Unfortunately so was his coursing jealousy as you paraded around with boy after boy who was not him. Every year he swore would be the year. The year where you finally realized it was him you needed and all would be right in Fred's world. But time and time again he failed as you walked out the door with a different redhead. He was growing nervous, his seventh year was upon him and this may be his last chance before you were all carted off in different directions never to see each other again. The frustration of it all was turning him bitter.

That night Fred lay awake on his four-poster, staring at the ceiling venomously. What was it? He wondered, What was it that he didn't have that every other ginger you knew seemed to possess? Why was it never him pulling you into broom closets and meeting you after classes? What was he doing wrong? His thoughts spun until he drifted into an uneasy slumber.

By the time he arrived at the quidditch pitch for practice the next morning, the rest of the team was already changing into their robes as Angilina scribbled vigorously on the chalkboard in front of them, already changed and ready.

“Fred!” She shouted watching him try to sneak his way into the bustle of the team unnoticed, “What took so long? I was beginning to think I would have to send George back up to wake you.”

He shrugged, “Sorry Cap, I didn’t get much sleep last night if you know what I mean.” he winked at her and she looked sorely unamused.

You on the other hand perked up at the insinuation, finally looking at the twin who, in protest of his behavior the day before, you had been ignoring.

“She gets what I mean,” He smirked nodding towards you, “Up late with Murphy boy last night?” He asked viciously.

You flushed as the changing room filled with chuckles.

“Murphy?” Angelina asked, turning to you, “Isn’t he a bit,” She paused, “dim?”

You scowled at Fred silently before snatching your broom from the rack and marching so quickly out onto the pitch that you hadn’t even noticed you had hit Harry in the temple with its handle.

As Potter groaned in pain and fixed his askew glasses Fred looked over to Alicia who was shaking her head slightly. As the rest of the team slowly followed you out onto the field she and George made their way towards him.

“You’re an idiot.” Alicia groaned, “No wonder she won’t go out with you.”

George chuckled.

Fred glared at the pair, “It’s not my fault she insists on only snogging boys who are 'a bit dim.'" he spoke, mocking Angelina.

“I know that this may be hard to wrap your head around,” Alicia spoke sharply, “But maybe she went out with Murphy because he was, ya know, nice to her.” She then shouldered past the twins leaving Fred gapping at his brother desperately.

The day was crisp, the heavy licks of winter drawn in by a bitter wind. But the sky was clear and the sun was out, much to everyone’s appreciation.

Fred mounted his broom still angry, feeling foolish for upsetting you yet again as you stood with your back to him defiantly.

The whistle blew and the balls were released as the team kicked off, snow flying in all directions as you did so.

Fred's head was not in practice as it should have been but instead on you, watching you speed towards the goal posts with the quaffle already under your arm. You scored easily on Ron with a feign left.

Fred was so absorbed in you that he had completely forgotten about the bludgers, one of which was hurtling at him with frightening speed. With little time to react he swung his bat wildly and pitched the bludger in the opposite direction, which with a sickening feeling he realized was right at you.

He tried to shout but you must not have heard him over the howling of wind in your ears. Because when the bludger struck you heavily between the shoulder blades you were completely unprepared. Your vision danced as the air was knocked from your lungs. You were flung from your broom with a shriek and began to plummet.

Fred streamed after you, urging his broom towards the ground with a frightening speed. His Cleansweep shuttered under the immense pressure he suddenly held it in and never before had Fred wished so badly for Potters Firebolt.

He managed to get beneath you mere feet from the ground. The force at which you hit him knocked you both into the snow with a heavy thud, and there was a sickening sound as his broom snapped in two.

Neither of you moved for a moment, the snow settling around you and beginning to melt through your robes.

“Are you alright?” Fred asked and was struck with panic when you did not respond. He sat up quickly pulling you with him, your legs tangled together in the snow. He called your name desperately, hands holding your face as you lay limp in his arms.

Angelina landed beside the pair followed closely by George and Alicia both of whom were wearing nervous expressions.

“Y/n!” Fred shouted again, tears stinging his eyes, fear gripping his throat like a vice. He was moments away from shaking you when your eyes slowly peeled open.

“Fred?” You mumbled, confused.

The boy let out a barking laugh of relief and then dove into a hug, almost knocking you back to the ground.

Bewildered, you returned his embrace and realized quite suddenly how much larger than you Fred really was. You practically disappeared into his chest, his broad shoulders shielding you from the wind that whipped across the pitch. You felt frighteningly warm listening to his heart beat quickly beneath his robes. Your cheeks were hot as he pulled away from you and began to search for any look of pain or damage on your face.

“Are you alright love?” He asked again and was washed with relief when you nodded.

As you fully realized what was going on around you, you gasped, pulling the handle of Fred's broom out of the snow.

“Your broom!” You looked horrified, “Fred, your broom broke!”

Fred on the other hand brushed it off helping you to your feet and beginning to pat the snow off your robes, “It’s alright, I’m sure it's fixable.” he shrugged, “Listen, I am so s-”

But before Fred could finish his apology George burst between the two of you, “I am so sorry!” He spoke hurriedly, “The bludger caught me off guard. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you.”

You chuckled, giving George a pat on the shoulder, “I sure hope not, but 's not me you should be apologizing to anyway.” You said, “It's Fred’s broom that broke.”

George did not issue his brother any regrets and instead sent him a wink, whipping his wand out of robes and shouting “Repairo!”

The broom snapped back together and Angelina, who was desperate to get back in the air, looked to you, “You alright then?”

You nodded with a grin and turned back to Fred who was testing the strength of his brother's repair.

“Thank you so much Fred,” You gushed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The boy's heart skipped a beat, stomach lurching, “It was no problem really.” He breathed and miraculously found you in his arms for the second time as you lunged towards him.

“Thank you.” You murmured into his robes before disconnecting and swiftly boarding your broom again.

Fred watched you leave struck for a moment. Alicia shot him a thumbs up and a grin before he was able to clumsily climb onto his own broom and follow you back up into the air.

By dinner the story of your fall had been told and retold so many times that you were now said to have plummeted upwards of a hundred meters before Fred had heroically scooped you onto his own broom, saving what was sure to be your life.

In the great hall you kept getting asked if you were okay as down the table Fred got clapped on the shoulder and congratulated for his great save. He seemed to be enjoying the new story a fair bit more than you were.

Finn had come over to ask about you halfway through dinner but you found suddenly that he was no less than boring and he returned to the Hufflepuff table after a few short minutes with a look of disappointment on his face.

Fred watched this with such delight he was sure he was glowing. George -who he had been applauding as the best wingman one could ask for all day- poked him hard in the side and pointed down the table to where you sat. Fred turned to catch your eyes already on him. He winked exuberantly and you turned away with a scoff, but your cheeks had taken a rather deep shade of red.

He grinned so wide at George he thought his lips might split, “I mean this is some real progress!” He cheered, “Did you see that? She was staring at me!”

Down the hall you turned to Alicia, cheeks still pink, “Have you ever noticed how tall Fred is?” You asked so suddenly she choked on her pumpkin juice.

You stared at her curiously as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve smiling, “Oh yeah very tall.”

You hummed looking back down the table at the elder twin who was now laughing wildly at something Lee had said, “I guess I never really thought about it before.”

Angilina shot Alicia a glance as you were distracted and the two of them broke out into giggles.

“What?” You demanded though you were still smiling.

“Oh nothing.” Angilina grinned and you huffed turning back to your dinner.

You found yourself wishing Fred had chosen to sit a bit closer to you as you watched a group of girls across from him break out into giggles at something he said, “There's no way he's that funny.” You muttered knowing he in fact was.

Yet you couldn’t find yourself being all that jealous as he kept glancing up at you, as if checking to make sure you were still watching him and much to his delight you always were. His shoulders, you noticed from where you sat picking at plum pudding, were quite wide, his arms toned. It was no wonder that he had engulfed you completely out on the pitch.

How had I never noticed this before? You found yourself wondering. How had he managed to escape your list of potential suitors when he was so obviously perfect for you?

The thought struck you rather abruptly and while you would have liked to have sat with it for a minute, Alicia was standing and you knew it was time to head back to the common room.

As students began to flood from the hall you fiddled with the sleeves of your robes, thoughts full of brown eyes and freckles .

As if summoned, Fred appeared at your side grinning widely, “Hello.”

“Hey Fred,” replied Alicia.

“Have you guys heard the news?” He asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You tried hard not to blush and instead shook your head, staring at the floor. “Apparently, you owe me your life.” He was beaming down at you now and you found it hard to look away.

“Oh yeah?” You smirked, “And I heard it was actually you who hit me with that bludger.”

His smile disappeared only momentarily and you were happy to see it recover so quickly.

“Ah well, I figured Angelina wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.” He shrugged, “Though I swear if I had a choice I would have knocked her off her broom instead.”

And for the first time that evening jealousy took you strongly, “Oh yeah? I suppose she would have been a bit more fun to catch then?”

Fred looked startled by your bristly reaction, “Nah,” He responded, “That would have been Georgie’s job.”

You were satisfied with this answer and felt yourself leaning against him as you began up towards the tower.

George was delighted to see you still tucked beneath his brother's arm when you reached the common room. He called you over to where he sat and you placed yourself in a large squishy armchair as Fred perched himself beside you on an ottoman.

You spent your evening rather uneventfully, finishing an essay for Snape as the Gryffindors slowly filtered off to bed in pairs. When George rose to take himself to the dormitory you expected Fred to follow but instead he stayed rooted by your feet where he now sat cross legged on the carpet looking over what looked like an extensive order form.

Hours later you yawned, stretching when you finally finished your work. It was now well past midnight and only a few fifth years remained, cramming for a quiz in transfiguration the next day. You turned to look at Fred who had long since sprawled himself across the couch before the fire and found him snoring softly.

A jolt of infatuation made your stomach flip. His messy hair glowed shockingly bright in the fire light, his pink lips slightly agape. You gathered your things slowly, sure not to wake him before you stood beside him.

You knew you should wake him, you were the reason he had not retreated to bed after all. But he looked so peaceful like this, so soft. Instead you found yourself slowly counting the freckles that sprawled across his cheeks, leaning close to brush a strand of his bright red hair out of his face. He woke immediately at your touch, large brown eyes locking with your own.

You felt your cheeks go hot, “You should go up to bed.” You mumbled beginning to pull away.

He snatched your wrist with such haste it took you by surprise, “Do that again.” he spoke.

You furrowed your brow, “What?”

“With my hair,” It was his turn to blush now, “Touch my hair again.”

It felt as though the air was sucked from your lungs yet you found yourself obeying, fingers coming to comb through the soft waves that spread across his forehead.

He hummed, leaning into your touch slowly, gaze still locked with yours. The two of you stayed there for a moment, you kneeling beside him fingers in his hair, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured and you looked at him confused.

“For what?”

“Hitting you with a bludger.” he responded remorsefully.

You laughed softly, your head thrown back, “It's okay Fred.” you grinned. You were close now, so close Fred could feel the tickle of your breath on his cheek, “I forgive you. You made up for it after all.”

He smirked in spite of himself, “I suppose I did, saving your life and all.”

You were giggling again and Fred was sure he was in some beautiful dream where all he could ever hear or see was your joy.

“I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you.” You grinned, “I may just chuck the quaffle at your head when you're not looking.”

“Only if you catch me when I fall.” Fred whispered, leaning closer still.

You let him, your lips connecting slowly. You were pleased to find he was a fantastic kisser, his lips soft and plush, eager to please. His free hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you closer still until you were practically on top of him.

One of the alarm clocks the fifth years had been attempting to turn to roosters burst to life and you pulled away abruptly remembering bitterly that you and him were not the only ones in the room. Fred chased after your lips with his own desperate for even a moment more with your mouth.

“You should get to bed.” You repeated standing now, knees a bit shaky.

Fred was disappointed by your departure but grinned wildly nonetheless as you gathered your books into your arms and turned back to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Fred.” You yawned and began up the stairs to your dormitory determined not to let him see the childish glee that had spread across your face.

“Wait!” He called after you, lurching from the couch and stopping at the bottom of the steps.

You turned back to him taking in the wonderful sight of him staring lovingly up at you. He looked delightfully disheveled, his hair a mess and his lips swollen from your touch. You took two steps down now only one above where he stood on the hardwood floor.

You looked down at him expectantly as his eyes bore into your own.

He lifted himself onto his toes and grabbed your shoulders forcinging you forward where you connected for a second time.

This time his breath was hot and heavy on your lips, his earnest intensifying to a level that you could only describe as hunger. Your feet dangled momentarily in the air as he lifted you fervently into his embrace. You were suddenly engulfed in Fred again, he was all you could smell sweet and cinnamon, all you could hear were his pants in your ear, all you could feel was him, his arms around your middle, his thigh pressed between your legs and his lips and tongue working so well together that it was you who chased after him this time, whining in protest when he pulled back.

You stared at him, out of breath and stunned to silence.

Fred looked as though he had just won something very expensive the way he was grinning with triumph, his eyes dark with lust.

“Sweet dreams love.” He murmured leaning down to give you one final kiss, his lips moving sickeningly slow against your own, wet and warm. He hovered inches form your lips for a moment, as if debating diving back in, before he backed away tucking his hands casually into his robes.

“You should go to bed, love.” He smirked, “We’ve got an early practice tomorrow and I do believe you made me a promise about knocking me off my broom.”

You bit your lip to keep from breaking into girlish giggles. Your heart was still pounding as though you had just run a long race.

“Only if you swear to catch me though.” He added with a wink.

“I’ll always catch you Freddie.” you assured him before turning and hurrying back up the stairs, grinning so wide your cheeks had begun to ache.

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taglist: @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-dood13 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @coldlilheart @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa @sarcasticallywitty @rosieweasley @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines @princess-jules47 @daedreamss @d22malfoys @evyiione

m.list

#fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley imagines #fred weasly x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #hp fandom #hp fanfic #hp #weasley twins #harry potter x reader

6K notes · View notes

captainfern · 1 year

Text

Breed

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Breed” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary – you and price meet up off base. you fuck lol. • rating – 18+ [mdni] • wordcount – 4.6k • warnings – fem!reader, praise kink, breeding kink [i'm being so fr it's in bold], unprotected piv, oral [f!receiving], price is a whore for you <3, strong language

(let me know if i missed any warnings! ok hope you like <3)

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You had been off base for all of four hours.

It was supposed to be a weekend away from your colleagues and the cutthroat environment of a military job. You planned on enjoying a peaceful couple of days with the company of excessive amounts of alcohol, a spa, and that one situationship you had been dealing with for the past year.

So now, before your holiday even begun, you were already regretting even leaving.

You sat in a quaint little bar: complete with all the bells and whistles to make it seem like a 1920’s speakeasy. The light was dim, settling the room in a golden ambiance, as people conversed with each other, nursing crystal tumblers of dark liquor or caressing the thin neck of martini glasses.

You reclined into the plush leather sofa beneath you, a glass of— as the familiar bartender described it— your usual in your hand. You swirled it around your glass, watching the liquid slosh against the sides as your “situationship” rambled on about something (you had stopped paying attention five minutes ago).

“I mean, he drove to work in a Porsche and I drove a Jaguar,” Max downed the rest of his beer. “I think we both know who has the superior taste in cars, don’t we?”

“Mhm…” you hummed, taking a sip of your drink.

Max had never been the most interesting person— hell, he was actually really fucking annoying. His only redeeming quality was that you could fuck him and not feel guilty about leaving the next morning. Convenience, really.

Max peered at you over the rim of his pint glass, cocking his head to the side as he placed it back onto the table. “Something on you mind?” He asked, sounding genuinely worried.

You looked up at him, slightly startled. “Oh, no, sorry. It’s just been a long day—”

“Okay, great, now can I finish my story?”

You blinked at him as he continued, rambling on with no real punchline to his story— he was just trying to make himself seem richer. At this point, you were cringing. Embarrassing.

After a while of putting up with… whatever the hell Max was even talking about, you excused yourself. You popped to the bathroom, drawing out the process of washing your hands by a good five minutes, before reluctantly exiting the bathroom.

You collided with a wall.

Well, it wasn’t a wall. The wall was a man.

The body you crashed into immediately steadied you: two strong arms wrapping around your upper body, pressing you gently to a taut abdomen. You gasped out as the wall, smelling strongly of bergamot orange and whiskey, settled your firmly on your feet and held you within arms reach. Large hands gripped your shoulders, completely enveloping them.

You screwed your eyes shut, waiting for a drunken insult of some kind. “Shit, I am so sorry—!”

“Sergeant?”

You looked up, locking eyes with your captain. Captain John Price, the man responsable for leading your taskforce.

“Captain? I… I am so sorry.” You rambled, taking a step out of his reach and fidgeting nervously with the hem of your shirt. “I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

He laughed, deep and melodic. “S’all right, love. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh, none of that crap,” he smiled, nudging you softly. “John’s fine. Or Price, if you really prefer it.”

You nodded, hiding a small smile. “Alright, Price.”

Price looked you up and down, taking in your attire and the way you had dolled yourself up. He let a small smile fall onto his lips as he leaned back against the standing-table he was situated at, elbow across it.

“Who’s got you dressed all nice, love?”

You rolled your eyes. “I was meant to be on a date, but it isn’t going well at all.”

His smile faded. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing major,” you said with a shrug. “Just an old… friend. He loves to talk about himself, and he hasn’t asked about what I’ve been up to since I got here.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Two hours.”

Price let out a low whistle, shaking his head slowly. “Sounds like a right arsehole, that one. Why don’t you just head on home?”

“I’d feel guilty—”

“You kill people for a living, sergeant,” Price quipped, grabbing his whiskey tumbler and raising it to his lips. “I doubt you’d feel guilty about leaving this tosser.”

You watched him take a sip of his drink, licking the liquor off his lips as he placed the tumbler back down. You sighed, realising that he was probably right, before squaring your shoulders and setting a determined look on your face. Price laughed at your expression.

“I’ll tell him I’m leaving.” You said.

Price chuckled, giving you a wink. “You go do that, love.”

You left Price and crossed the bar, to where Max was sitting on the couch, smiling at his phone. He was typing fast, and didn’t even look up when you cleared your throat to get his attention, now standing just a few feet from him.

“I’m leaving,” you said simply. “Thanks for… the company, I guess.”

Max looked up, shutting his phone off and shoving it into his pocket as he got to his feet. “Are we not gonna fuck?”

The words leaving his mouth sounded horrid, and you withheld a grimace at his desperate tone. You shook your head, “No, we’re not.”

He scoffed. “So this has been a complete waste of time, then?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded as he shoved past you and vanished out the door. He left you with the bill and, not only that, but he was your ride— and you heard the unmistakable sound of his Jaguar revving it’s engine and tearing off down the street.

You blinked, dumbfounded, at the door, trying not to let the stinging of embarrassed tears fall from behind your eyes. With a frustrated sigh, you were about to head to the bar and pay when Price stopped you, walking into your path.

“Come on, love. I’ll take you home.”

You shook your head adamantly. “Price, no, I’ve gotta pay—”

“I’ll put it on my tab,” he said simply. “Now, come on. I’ll take you home since that fuckwit wants to leave a lady stranded here.”

He ushered you gently out the door, a large, warm hand on your lower back. He didn’t let you protest: he just simply guided you out into the chilly night air. His body heat was warm against your back as he led you towards his car. His smell was intoxicating. You had the sudden urge to just whirl around and rub yourself all over him, collecting his scent like a cat.

Um, what the fuck— suddenly crossed your mind.

When you both reached his car, he opened the passenger door for you and allowed you to slide into the seat, before closing it and moving to the other side, clambering into the driver seat and slotting the key into the ignition, the car rumbling to life.

Once out onto the main road, he cast you a quick glance, both hands on the wheel, running his thumbs along the seam of the wheel’s curve. “We’re you staying?”

You gave him your address, and he raised a brow. “A penthouse suite, eh? We are clearly not being paid the same.”

You laughed, warm in his car. You smelt that same scent of bergamot citrus and whiskey floating through the car. It was tainted with cigar smoke and mint. You wanted to get the smell tattooed into your fucking brain.

The drive to your flat was comfortable. You talked with Price as though he was an old friend and not your boss. He seemed to enjoy your company, too: sparing subtly glances in your direction whenever you laughed, or whenever you got particularly excited when telling him a story. His eyes twinkled.

A few minutes later, Price had pulled up outside your building, killing the engine and hopping out of the car. You went to protest, but he moved and opened your door, beckoning you outside with a small wave of his hand.

“I’ll be walking you to your door, sergeant,” Price said, almost sternly. “I’m a man of my word. I said I’d take you home, so I will.”

Ignoring the heat in your cheeks, you allowed him to gently lead you across the foyer and into the lift. You hit your floor level and as the doors closed, you suddenly became aware of how close you and Price were to one another. You could feel his body heat. You could feel the gentle brush of his chest against your back every time he breathed.

Maybe it was the small amount of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you suddenly felt hot. Like, underwear getting wet kinda hot. In the corner of the lift, you shifted your legs, pressing your thighs together as the lift travelled upwards.

No way you’re horny right now, you thought as the lift doors opened.

You were quick to depart, hurrying down the hall and reaching your door in record speed, fumbling to get the keys out of your purse. You felt Price sidle up behind you. When you finally got the door open, you pushed it and stepped into the doorway, flicking the light on before turning and looking up at Price.

“Thank you so much for bringing me home,” you said sincerely. “And I am genuinely sorry if I ruined your night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You didn’t ruin my night. I’m always here if you need me, love.”

You bit your lip. The way he said that was way to hot for the way you were feeling right now. You could feel the flush creeping up your neck, and it seemed that Price took notice.

He cocked his head to the side, appraising you. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, reaching a hand out and placing it heavily on your arm. It was a solid form that was warm and strong and you had a sudden urge to just bite it.

What the fuck.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay.” You said. Liar.

Price raised a brow, looking at the way you squirmed under his gaze. Now, he wasn’t stupid by any means— he could read your body language like a book and it made a triumphant smile flicker across his face.

He shifted the hand on your arm and dragged it to your chin, gripping it carefully and lifting it, forcing you to look up at him.

“What do you want, love?”

You blinked at him.

He tutted. “Don’t get shy on me now, sergeant. Tell me what you want. What’s getting you all worked up, huh?” He stroked your jaw, your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “You like the way I talk to you? You like when I call you love?”

You let out a quiet whimper, nodding. He smiled down at you, leaning in as though he was about to kiss you. But he stopped, mint and whiskey laced breath fanning across your face.

“Use your words when you speak to your captain.”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hummed, pleased. “That’s a good girl.” And then pressed his mouth to yours. It was possessive— his tongue breached past your lips, plunging desperately into your mouth as you tried to keep up. You wound your arms around his broad shoulders, sliding fingers into his hair and gripping the strands. He groaned into your mouth, pushing you further into your flat without breaking the kiss.

He slammed the door shut and locked it blindly, opting to move you around and slam your body up against it. He cupped your jaw with one hand, shifting his other to run down your side, brushing over your hip and settling on your upper thigh. He squeezed it as he slid one leg between yours, jutting his knee upwards and pressing it against your clothed core.

You let out a strangled whimper, choking on the possessive nature of the kiss as Price pressed your body against his knee, using the hand at your hip to help you move against it. You stuttered on a moan, breaking the kiss to take some short breaths, the pressure on your core alleviating the building sensations.

“This what you want?” Price grinned against your jawline, placing kisses there. “You want me to make you feel good, love?”

You nodded desperately, moaning out a pathetic “yes, sir,” before he was whirling you around and guiding you deeper into your flat. He eventually found your bedroom, and pushed you onto the bed. Your back hit the silken sheets, and he wasted no time in following you; pressing his body to yours and immediately reattaching his mouth to yours hungrily.

As the two of you kissed, he gently began to pry your clothes from your body. He slipped your shirt off, making quick work in popping off your bra. He moved down, planting kisses along your chest and across the swell of your breasts. He then drew his tongue, hot, over your right nipple before taking it into his mouth. You moaned loudly, huskily, gripping at his hair as he sucked. He moved to your left one, and repeated the process until you were a whimpering, needy mess beneath him.

After a moment, he leaned back and admired the hickeys he had created over your soft skin, running calloused fingers over them.

“This okay, love?”

You nodded, reaching up and looping your fingers around his belt. “Yes, sir.” You whined, finally managing to undo the buckle on his belt.

But he stopped you, gently pushing your hands above your head before he dipped down and kissed you again. The way he licked into your mouth made you squirm, fingers flexing beneath his strong grip. He released your arms, running his hands along the bare skin and all the way past your shoulders, over your breasts and along your sides.

His eyes never left yours as he popped the button on your pants, pulling them down your legs and throwing them across the room. When the cool air of your room hit, you realised just how wet you were— favourite pair of underwear, soaked through. Your face lit up in embarrassment as you felt Price’s eyes drift down your body.

“S’all for me?” Price uttered, finger skimming the edge of your underwear. He hooked his finger beneath it and let it go with a snap against the plush fat of your thigh.

You felt hot all over when you mumbled out a “yeah.”

“Yeah?” He pulled your underwear down your legs, dragging his hands heavily along your skin alongside it. Like your pants, he flicked your underwear across the room. Then, his hands were on your thighs and in the blink of an eye, you were flipped over.

Price lay on his back, arms wrapped around your thighs. You straddled his chest, hands resting on his pecs. Your fingers brushed through his chest hair as he looked up at you, an expectant look on his face. Your stomach flipped.

“Price…” You whined.

“Sit on my face, love.”

You hesitantly shook your head. “I don’t want to hurt—”

“Come on, darling,” Price drawled, tugging you forward. “You won’t hurt me.”

You let out a stuttered sigh as your thighs rested either side of his head, and you slowly sank your aching cunt down onto his face. You huffed out a load moan when he licked a stripe up your folds, before plunging his tongue right into your dripping heat. You snatched at his head, pulling his hair as your hips shifted against him— his nose nudging your clit, his tongue drawing animalistic sounds from your mouth.

“Price—!”

“That’s a good girl,” Price uttered against your core. “Ride my face, love. Take what you need.” He had an iron grip on your thighs, helping you rock yourself against his mouth. “Such a pretty, wet cunt. Tastes so fucking good.”

You moaned at his words. Your captain speaking to you like that with his face drowning in your cunt. What the fuck—

“P-Price…” You breathed. “Gonna… gonna come.”

He moaned against your cunt— the vibrations making that coil in your stomach tighten. He squeezed your thighs, running his tongue up your folds and swirling it around your clit, repeating this action a few times.

You felt yourself drawing tight, a thin sheen of sweat gathering across your bare skin. “Price—”

“I know, darling, I know,” he said. “Come for me. Come in my mouth like a good girl, yeah?”

“Yeah, fuck, Price—!” You came with a moan of his name, gushing into his mouth as your hips stuttered against his face. You felt him groan beneath you, tongue working you through your orgasm.

After a long moment, Price re-surfaced— shifting you carefully onto your back and hovering over you. You smiled hazily at him, seeing his beard slick with you, shiny. He hummed, pressing his mouth to yours.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you, sergeant?” He said into your mouth.

You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. You hummed a response, too busy stroking his facial hair, feeling your own arousal sticky on your fingers.

When Price pulled back, his lips were flushed and his dark eyes glassy. His eyes scanned your face.

“Price?” Your thumb stroked his cheekbone.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He grumbled, deep and low from his chest. “Gonna let me fill this pretty cunt?”

Your eyes widened momentarily as he shifted his gaze down your body. You arched off the bed when his hands went back to travelling down your sides. He sat back on his heels, spreading your legs as wide as they could go, warm hands on your inner thighs.

He stared at your dripping core, and you watched him harden even more in his pants.

“Such a pretty cunt, eh, darling?” Price ran two fingers along your folds, collecting a shiny mix of your arousal and his saliva. He brought his fingers to your mouth and shoved them roughly passed your lips. “Tastes fucking heavenly, too.”

You choked on his fingers, moaning. Wrapping your tongue around them, you noticed his pupils dilate even more as he watched you.

“Jesus…” He pulled his fingers out, then began tracing them along your core again. He watched his fingertips slip between your folds, and then watched the way you writhed in anticipation each time his fingers skimmed your aching hole.

“Fuck, just— Price, please—” You warbled, body hot. You could feel your arousal leaking out of you, pooling below your arse on the bedsheets.

Price laughed lowly, before sinking two fingers into your desperate cunt, right up to the knuckle. You keened, a high-pitched moan filtering between your lips at the intrusion. His digits were thick, dragging against your gummy walls, stretching you open with obscene squelching noises.

He cooed at you as he added a third finger. “Take it, darling. Such a good girl taking all three, aren’t you? This pretty cunt’s so good for me. Just for me.”

You moaned and wiggled against the bed as he pumped three fingers inside you. You felt full, satiated. Your slick was dripping down his hand, his wrist and sliding into the hairs along his forearms.

“Making such a mess, and I haven’t even given you my cock yet…” Price drawled as you fluttered around his fingers, hips bucking.

“Price, sir, need you to fuck me.”

He didn’t relent the movements of his fingers, and you felt your second orgasm building strongly within you. He tutted, clucking his tongue as he thrusted his fingers into you. “Want you to come on my fingers first. You can do that, can’t you, love? Come all over my fingers before you can come on my cock.”

You whined, forcing yourself to nod and nod and nod as your orgasm towered over you, looming like a shadow. “F-fuck, m’gonna—”

The words died on your tongue as your orgasm ripped through you, a blinding pressure released from your abdomen. A wet gush of arousal flooded beneath you, and you felt it. As you shook, legs trembling, chest heaving, you heard Price chuckling to himself as he retracted his dripping fingers.

“Such a messy girl,” he mused. “Look what you’ve done.”

You used your remaining strength to look down at where he was— his shirt splattered with your arousal, wet dripping onto his lap. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but Price prevented you from shying away. He dragged himself up your body and placed kisses as he went— ending his exploration by settling a deep kiss to your mouth.

“You gonna let me fuck you now? You deserve it, don’t you? Been such a good girl for me, letting me eat that pretty cunt.”

Such lewd words coming from your captain’s mouth— a man of such impressive status and honourability— was slightly disconcerting. However, you couldn’t find into yourself to care, nor think about the HR nightmare the two of you were in the midst of causing.

All you were focussing on was ripping open your tear-lined eyes and watching as the captain— your captain— shed himself of his dress shirt and then his pants. When he pulled down his boxers, you literally tossed your head back and moaned, much to the amusement of Price— who chuckled lowly at you, gripping his cock at the base.

“Want it that bad, darling?” He mused, leaning forward to run the head of his cock up and down your glistening folds.

“Yes, fuck—!”

“Ask nicely,” Price placed a couple of soft kisses along the underside of your jaw. “Good girl’s ask nicely, don’t they?”

You whined out some pathetic excuse for a please, lifting your arms to thread your fingers into his hair as he hovered over you. His body was heavy against you: the weight of his cock firm against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

Price lined himself up with your dripping cunt, slowly pushing in. He released a low groan from the depths of his chest as his cock slid into your tight heat, your cunt fluttering around him. You joined him, breathing out panting moans as he sunk deeper and deeper.

With one final push, Price’s cockhead was nestled up against the plug of your womb, pulsing within you. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily.

“You feel… Jesus Christ— you feel so good, love. So tight around me,” his voice had a whiny undertone. “Can I move, darling?”

You nodded, full. It’s like you could feel him in your chest.

With a deep grunt, Price dragged his cock all the way out until the wet tip of him rested at your entrance— before he pushed back in roughly. You jolted, moaning as he set a pace that you hadn’t at all been expecting. You felt the need to be stabilised, your hands groping across his shoulders, down his back, along his arms. Your hands travelled down his torso, feeling the rigid planes of muscle and wiry hair.

Price panted in your ear. “Such a— fuck— such a good girl. Being such a good girl for your captain, darling. Making me— hngh— making me so proud.”

Your stomach and cunt fluttered simultaneously at the praise, eliciting a moan from both you and Price. He was truly fucking you into your bed: the mattress creaking along with the bed frame; the cushioned headboard knocking gently against the wall. Somewhere across your apartment, your radio was playing— you’d left it on before you left for the evening— and Breed by Nirvana was playing. Fitting for the occasion, considering—

“Fuck, gonna come in this tight fucking cunt,” Price groaned. “Gonna fill you up so good. Gonna stuff you full ‘o me.”

You writhed beneath him, back arching off the bed and aching nipples brushing against his chest. You were getting close, judging by the way that familial coil was tightening in the depths of your belly. Tighter and tighter as he fucked his fat cock harder and harder into you, deeper and deeper against your cervix.

A thin sheen of sweat lay across your skin, glowing. Price didn’t care, clearly, as he peppered kisses across your chest, sucking bites onto the base of your neck as he rutted into you, hips slamming against yours. You felt one of his large, warm hands slide from your waist and across your pelvis, settling a finger on your sensitive clit.

You whined, and he shushed your gently. “Take it, darling, take it. I know you can… come on.”

Price rubbed tight circles against the bundle of nerves as he fucked you, hitting that same spot within you that had you seeing stars behind your eyelids and whimpering his name repeatedly.

It only took a couple of seconds for you to reach your peak.

“Price, m’gonna come,” you gasped, trembling and snapping your eyes open. “Please, sir—!”

He groaned, gruff and pleasure-strained. “That’s a good girl, darling. ‘Course you can come. Come all over my fucking cock and show me how much of a good girl you are for your captain.”

Yeah, that was it.

You came, for lack of better words, violently. You legs shook, knees trembling as you arched your back off the mattress. Your body pressed tight to Price’s, his cock angling deeper as he fucked you through your post-orgasmic haze. Your breaths came in pants, face flushed and clit throbbing.

Price meanwhile was nearing his peak as well. He was fucking you into your silken sheets like a scene out of some kind of porno— large hands gripping at your waist, your thighs; eyes travelling hungrily down your body to where his cock repeatedly entered your tight hole. His cock was completely slick with you, his pelvis and lower stomach splashed and glimmering with your arousal.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” Price groaned, eyelids fluttering for a moment. “Come so deep in this cunt you’ll feel me for weeks— ruin you for any other man, eh, love? That fuckwit from the bar has nothing on me.”

You didn’t even have the energy to moan like you really fucking wanted too. Everything he was saying was going straight to your aching cunt, and it was probably sending you to an early ovulation. You felt like you craved him.

Price suddenly grabbed your hand, bringing it downwards to where his cock slammed into you. He pushed your fingers around your hole so that you could feel where his fat cock entered you over and over again. You moaned at the feeling, just as Price knocked your hand aside and folded you in half— pressing your legs up against your chest. A mating press.

He was huffing now, drawing near his climax as another one built within you.

“One more time for me, love.” He said and Jesus Christ you didn’t need to be told again.

Another orgasm overtook you before you knew it was there: drowning you and leaving you gasping as you gushed around him, hands gripping the back of his neck for support. You sighed out his name, airy and exhausted, as his thrusts began to lose rhythm.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he uttered. “So good for me. Now ‘m gonna fill this cunt so good— shit— fucking breed you nice and full. Might take, eh, love? You’d love that wouldn’t you? Love being all nice and fat with my kid, and I’d fuck you whenever you wanted— hngh, Jesus— give this needy cunt my cock whenever you wanted.”

These words were coming out of your captain’s mouth… Soap is never going to believe you.

Price let out a low, almost whimper of a sound as he thrusted sloppily a couple more times. “Take it, darling, fuck. Take my come. Fucking take it like my good girl. So proud of you.”

He came with a shudder and a deep groan: warmth flooding your insides and splashing deep into your cervix— helpful thanks to the fact you could feel him in your guts.

The both of you breathed heavily in tandem until his cock softened inside you and he pulled out carefully. His come oozed out of your hole, and he shoved it back inside with two fingers.

Price cleared his throat. “I’m gonna have to do a lot of paperwork to get us out of whatever mess we’ve just put ourselves in.”

You sighed. “Let’s not talk about work when you’re knuckle deep in my pussy.”

Price stopped talking, leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#cod mwii #captain john price #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader #captain price #price x you #price x reader #call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #captain price smut #price smut #fem reader #captainfern #captain’snirvana

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madelynraemunson · 5 months

Text

— along for the ride ☆

🐃 the tag team (co-writers): @joshlmbrt @swiss-mrs @mediocredreams 🩶

eddie x fem!reader

a/n: reading flight of icarus and finding out eddie is from tennessee REALLY husked my corn 🤠 also, this may or may not have been inspired by the bull fight scene in hoard

cw: daydream p in v sex, riding, eddie gets a hard on watching reader ride, innuendos, play on words

Stamina. Strength. Strategy. Safety. The Four Important S’s when it comes to bull-riding.

‘Support’ is your unofficial fifth. You’ve generated quite the following after showcasing your riding skills at Whisky Jim’s every Saturday night, the ooohs and aaahs of your spectators filling the air as the spotlight drenches your cute… calculated… perspiring body.

Bull-riding at the dive bar every weekend has become a favorite hobby of yours. It’s a perfect outlet for all the stress, the rough-and-tough of it all perfectly counterbalancing your slow-as-snails, but somehow busy and draining 9 to 5. Riding gave you something to look forward to.

“Look at her go,” an onlooker coos in admiration. “She’s got life by the goddamn horns.”

You toss your head back, glossy lips parted in excitement as the crowd’s appreciative hoots and whistles filled the air. You could get used to this. You have gotten used to this.

Even with the world at your feet, things were starting to get boring again. And you are constantly craving something wild, something new. Something or someone that will make like the bull by sweeping you off your feet and taking you out for a spin.

Someone like Eddie Munson, perhaps.

Eddie isn’t sure what drew him… here out of all places. But something about the rowdiness compels him as he climbs out of his van, Halen and into the bar, boots scuffing the hard wooden floor. But the flight-risk metalhead is determined to find out, itching for adventure as he saunters with feigned confidence into the southern saloon.

He flags down the closest bartender, a country heartthrob of a man with black hair and blue eyes. The Casanaova places a coaster down in front of him as Eddie steps up to the plate. “What’ll ya be havin’?”

“Anything local,” Eddie replies, more of a question, unsure of what exactly is available. “Anything hoppy.”

“Bottle or Tap?” the man follows up after a curt nod, mindlessly running a hand over his thick mustache.

“Tap. Pint, please.”

The bartender gives another nod before disappearing to fulfill Eddie’s request. Meanwhile, the outcast takes this short window of time to look up and down the bar at the different patrons.

All from different walks of life. But all here for presumably the same reason.Whisky Jim’s is decently packed, but for the most part, the crowd is congregated either in booths, at tables, or in the middle of the floor.

A glass is placed onto the coaster. The same deep country twang effectively regains Eddie’s attention.

“Wanna start a tab, brother?” The older man asks with a polite grin, eyes crinkling up at the sides as he does.

Eddie offers a polite smile in return.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

The bartender studies him intently this time, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“First timer?”

Eddie clears his throat uneasily, kicking at the peanut casings at his feet to avoid contact with the John Wayne of a man that was in front of him.

“Obvious?”

The man cackles at Eddie, the slight patronization of the old-timer’s demeanor making him want to evaporate. But the amused blue eyes and downturned smile indicates it’s all in good fun, much like his uncle Wayne who always liked giving him a hard time whenever he made himself too small.

“Son, you couldn’t stick out further if you were a dog’s balls.”

A fellow bartender laughs at the man’s remark. Then Eddie joins in. It was pretty funny.

“You just don’t really look like the kind to be into square dancin’, is all,” the bartender remarks as he narrows his eyes at Eddie. Eddie shrugs and takes a sip of his beer, slightly wincing as the first sip hits him.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Just thought I’d explore a bit outside of my usual.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Eddie.”

“Greg.” The bartender gives him his hand to shake. “You from around here or you comin’ from outta town?”

“Hawkins.”

“Not too far from home then. And it seems you came on a good night.”

And as if on cue, the crowd towards the middle of the building erupts in cheers. Eddie briefly glances over his shoulder in the general direction before turning back to Greg with a curious head tilt.

“What’s happening?”

Greg nods his head over in the direction of the crowd.

“Bull Ridin’ Night.”

Your thighs are wrapped around the firm leather seat as you’re whisked around in one fluid motion. You turn to give your rapt audience a wink. The crowd eats up your presence, evident by the adorn kisses they blow your way. You buy into the theatrics, pretending to catch them before putting them in your back pocket for later. It only riles the audience up more.

“They bring that thing out on Saturdays,” Greg explains. “Between the Karaoke Nights and the Hoedowns, Bull Ridin’ is one of the most popular.”

Eddie tries another glance in that direction, but due to the crowd, he doesn’t have the best view of who is actually riding.

“You gon’ give it a try?”

Eddie’s head whips back around to the older man to find a teasing smirk on his face. Eddie shakes his head.

“I… don’t think so.” He chuckles. “I’m not the most balanced or coordinated person.” He admits that with a grimace and another sip of his Hawkins Pale Ale.

“I’m just teasin’ ya, boy. HEY!” Greg whistles at the bartender next to him. “Who’s up there now?”

The coworker throws a quick glance over their shoulder before replying. There’s a bashful smirk when they reply,

“Who do you think?”

The crowd erupts again, cheers and whistles alike. Who else gets this kind of crowd engagement? No one else other than you, of course.

“Looks like my girl is up there breakin’ hearts again.” Greg lets out a soft laugh.

Eddie gulps as his breathing shallows. A girl? Up there? On that thing?

Eddie, once again, nearly strains his neck trying to get a glimpse of the rider. When he fails, Eddie turns back to the bar, downing the final quarter of his pint, before looking back at Greg.

“Fetch me a bottle for the road, yeah?”

Greg issues him a chuckle, grabbing the empty glass and handing him a bottle version of that very ale, while Eddie sets off on his curiosity journey to the middle of the floor.

“Boys will be boys.” Greg’s female coworker remarks with sassy pursed lips.

Eddie closes in on the crowd, slipping through the few empty spaces between the onlookers with half-assed ‘Excuse me’s. Though no one was paying him any mind. And when he settles by the barrier, just a mere two rows behind, he finally gets the perfect view of you.

Eddie couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face at the sight of you working the crowd. He watches as you give a practiced flick of your hips to get the crowd going and the enticing jiggle of your breasts under your tight shirt. Drew in Eddie’s eyes like a laser beam. The thin material was stretched taut, giving a hint of the perfect tits underneath as you arched your lower back and thrust your chest forward to keep your balance.

“Christ,” he exhales sharply, in awe of your natural performance, the boisterous, unpredictable gravity of the machine whirling you around as you wrestle to hold on.

His eyes drink in the sight of the soft, rounded curve of your ass that peeked out of the bottom of your faded Daisy Duke’s as you lean forward to steady yourself in the saddle.

WHOOSH!

The bull jerks sideways and you flex your thighs and circle your hips in the saddle to keep yourself astride. The plush skin of your upper thighs press tightly against the seat and your upper body sways in rhythm with the bull’s movement.

You were born to ride.

“That’s how you do it, Indiana!” a spectator hoots in adoration as you cling on for dear life. “That’s how you do it!”

You give a deep roll of your hips to meet the thrust of the machine, causing Eddie to run the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip before sucking in a shaky breath. Your hips… the way they roll… is almost hypnotic, and Eddie’s brown doe eyes can’t help but linger on the sliver of skin that peeks out, black, intricate swirls of cyber-sigilism that tease him slightly.

Fuck.

“God, she’s so pretty…” he thinks to himself. “And she knows how to ride.”

Eddie’s eyes trail to the white of your knuckles, his own fingers gripping the bottle of his beer when his eyes slide up your arm and land on your face.

The front of his pants start to feel uncomfortably tight. Eddie adjusts himself as discreetly as he could, but even the soft brush of his fingers against the strained denim causes him to hiss under his breath.

“Ride it, cowgirl!” an audience’s comment centers Eddie once again. “LET ‘EM KNOW!”

The way you matched the bull’s gyrations and anticipated its every move made him weak in the knees, and as he watched you swirl your hips in the saddle like a modern day Annie Oakley he couldn’t help but wish it was him straddled between your shapely thighs instead.

As Eddie stood there watching, the dull roar of the crowd faded into the background. At that moment it was just you and him.

In his mind he’s already lassoed you to his bed; and you’re sat astride him like a cowgirl in your saddle, hands splayed on his chest for balance as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock. And you’d bite down on your plush lower lip and let out a soft moan as you sank down onto him slowly, taking your time and adjusting to his size.

“Oh, Eddie,” he could almost hear you purring. “It’s so big.”

And he’d chuckle with false modesty and rub a hand tenderly along your thigh as if to soothe the delicious stretch of his thick girth.Then once you adjusted, you’d move, meeting each unpredictable roll of his hips with your own as you mastered the rhythm of your very own long-haired bucking bronco.

And he’d be gripping you tight with each deep thrust, pistoning, plowing himself into you while watching his cock disappear into your slick pussy over and over with each forceful snap of his hips. And with every strained mewl he milks out of you he’d press you down by the hips and drill into you further, your weak cunt just about ready to tap out on top of him. This handsome bull’s sure a challenge, you’d be thinking to yourself. Eddie is a ride you wouldn’t be able to survive.

———

The crowd disperses when the show is over. Eddie stands a bit straighter when you finally leave the middle of the floor, eyes darting towards the plush smirk that your soft lips create. If it’s even possible, he thinks you look even more heavenly. He’s sure you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him.

Little does he know that for you, he’s taken that same effect. You’ve grown so accustomed to everyone here that a new face has captured your attention. And you felt him staring at you, with a gaze so impassioned that you just about almost lost your footing up there. But you pulled it off real well, attempting to shake off the redirection in the form of a dramatic bounce of your tits.

It perplexes you. A man making you that nervous? Up until late, it’s become rather unheard of. You want to know this man and see for yourself what his energy is all about.

Eddie finds himself fixing his appearance when he notices your legs striding over, clearing his throat as his palm slides over the stubble that he had been trying to grow.

“You know it’s kinda rude to stare the way that you do,” you remark.

“How so?” Eddie challenges. “Everyone else is doing it. What makes me different from everybody?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” you smile at him.

Eddie shifts his weight onto the counter, bringing the bottle up to his lips, taking another gulp. His eyes dart everywhere -- the metal buckle of your belt, the skin that was shiny with dried sweat, your hands that tap at the sticky countertop of the bar, the way your lips wrap around the tip of your bottle and the liquid that slips out and down your chin that he greedily wanted to tongue away.

“Funny,” you observe. “I’m here every Saturday and I’ve never once seen your face.”

He thinks he’s looking over at an angel, really, heart beating faster when he realizes it’s him that you’d made an effort to come up to. Made an effort to get to know.

“Interesting that you saw me.”

“I see everything from up there. And you’re a newcomer, I can tell. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the best way.”

You invite him into your energy, closing up the distance between the two of you with a graceful stride in his direction.

“You were amazing,” Eddie says to you. “Really know how to put on a show, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists. “Spotlight loves you. Killer crowd engagement as well.”

“You a performer too?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Mmm, I don’t know…” you sigh dreamily. “Just a fellow performer lookin’ for some tips and pointers.”

Not much needs to be said to know that you two ache for each other, judging by how the intimate dive bar grows non-existent for as long as you two are captured in the forcefield of each other. Eddie thinks that there would be absolutely nothing better than giving you some pointers, his hand leaving the bottle, some of the liquid sloshing around the precipitating glass, heart pounding in his ears as he nods quickly. One rowdy night wouldn’t hurt anybody, he thinks to himself. And it’s very apparent that, the stunner that is you, wants take him for a spin.

“So what do you say, cowboy?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t we ride off into the sunset, just you and me?”

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more @saradika @mikeykuns

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #country!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4

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sunflowersteves · 2 years

Text

another day, another dollar || b.b.

pairing || bradley “rooster” bradshaw x reader

summary || Is Rooster jealous that some random aviator won't stop looking at you? Definitely not.

author’s note || i'm so glad you guys enjoyed my last rooster fic!! i have so many ideas for rooster and i hope you guys enjoy this one! <3

warnings || jealousy, misogyny (not from rooster), fem!reader, some mention of violence, smut, oral sex, blowjob, praise kink, a little sub!bradley, [18+ only]

“Getting pretty busy, huh?”

You turned your head around to the unfamiliar voice. You almost raised an eyebrow—he looked smug. “Yep.” You replied, short and sweet.

You gave him a strained smile in hopes to keep up some customer service facade. You whirled back around to continue to pull the tap and fill up more beers.

He decided to talk to you again. “Think you can handle all this by yourself?”

At the Hard Deck on a buzzing Friday night, you were the only one tending to the bar. Ever since dusk peaked at seven-thirty in the evening, you had been busy refilling beers and taking orders—then occasionally ringing the bell when someone couldn’t pay their tab.

Penny asked you for a favor when Amelia came home from school with a really bad case of the flu. You knew she felt bad enough leaving you alone on the busiest night of the weekend, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit. You had wished Amelia a speedy recovery.

You were doing pretty well from the rush of Navy officers, lieutenants, captains, and everywhere in between asking for ales and lagers.

It had actually been somewhat fun chatting up conversations with people. Out of nowhere, though, this lanky twenty-something man stationed himself right in the front of the bar.

He had been staring at you for more than five minutes, and when you paid him no mind—since you were quite frankly busy with customers—he decided to strike up a mundane conversation. It was almost nauseating.

When you had turned your head the first time, he had his elbow resting on the bar and twirled a pint of beer in his hand. He had a fresh face and flirty twinkling eyes that almost made you gag a little. You knew exactly what he was doing, and you weren’t interested.

You could tell he was a Naval Aviator with the whole khaki color suit and hat on his head. You could also tell that by the looks of it that he’s new.

You didn’t spin back around, though, when he asked you that question. You didn’t want to give him any attention—hopefully, he will get the goddamn hint.

“Think you can handle all this by yourself?” Gross.

“I’ve been doing this for a while. I think I can handle it just fine.” You then turn to Coyote with the four beers he asked for—a genuine smile on your face. He thanked you kindly before sauntering back off to your group of friends by the pool table.

“Really? I’ve never seen you in here before.” He locked eyes with yours before trailing down your figure and admiring the curves of your hips in tight jeans—a shudder of disgust ran through your body. “I would’ve remembered someone like you.”

Yeah, he was definitely new because if he saw the six-foot-four Top Gun aviator—the top one percent of fighter pilots in the world—that was glaring daggers into him, he would have shit his pants on the spot. You were sure he would never set foot in the Hard Deck again.

You were Bradley’s, and Bradley was yours. Everyone in the vicinity of the bar knew that. You were always perched on his lap while he spread his skilled fingers across the piano. His arms were always wrapped around your waist as you destroyed Hangman in darts. You two practically couldn’t get your hands off of each other every second of the day.

No one in their right mind would disturb the pure, raw love between the two of you.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, you were forced under the confinements of the bar area, giving this newbie the perfect opportunity to try and stake his claim.

“Maybe you’re the forgetful one, kid. I’m here every weekend.” You fought the urge to smile in victory when he gave an annoyed expression as the word kid left your mouth.

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

“You gonna do something, Rooster?”

His eyes never left your cute irritated face. He watched you give the guy a one-worded answer with a mundane expression. As much as he wanted to give you the kiss of a lifetime, he stood back. “No.”

With Bradley’s answer, Jake was even more amused. “No? I’m surprised. I’d figure by now you’d be trailing over to her like some lost little puppy.”

Bradley bit his cheek to keep from snapping back. He knew that Jake was just giving him shit. He knew that he was just trying to get him all riled up.

It’s what Jake does. But he couldn’t let anything get to him, or he would trail over to you like some lost puppy. Hangman was undoubtedly and stupidly right.

Jake’s eyebrows raise in surprise at the brooding silence. He expected some little quip and then a smack upside the head from Phoenix right next to him.

Damn, this must be really grinding Bradley’s gears. Jake almost felt guilty for his friend sulking in the corner of the Hard Deck.

“Don’t let Bagman get to you, Rooster. He’s just jealous that your girlfriend rejected him first.”

Phoenix grinned with a teasing smile, and Jake just grumbled to himself. At that, Bradley snorted and shook his head. He was still silent, but his demeanor had at least changed. All of the pilots smiled at Rooster’s shoulders relaxing just a smidge.

Bradley hated feeling jealous—the angry green monster that sprouted in his chest and sat home in his head was relentless in its hold on him.

His heart always throbbed in his chest, and anger bubbled through his veins when some guy or girl gave you a bashing smile and feather-light touches to your shoulder.

He always stayed silent—brooding—as he watched you from afar. He never wanted you to feel like he didn’t trust you because he did. Oh, he did. He trusts you more than anyone else in the room, and he flies life or death with some of them. He would follow you to the ends of the earth if you had asked him to.

He figured it is most likely some unresolved tension from the tragedies that have struck during his thirty-five years of life, and anyone that wanted to take you away from him burned a hole in his chest.

So, to combat these ingrained feelings, he sat idly by as that guy’s hips were attached to the bar and watched you dodge every single flirtatious glance and awkward pick-up line. He knew you could handle yourself, and there was a whole gaggle of naval aviators that would stop at nothing to make sure you were doing okay.

“Need another beer?” A peace offering. Jake was already standing up from the bar stool and about to make his way over to you.

He nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Bagman.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

You looked bored. You looked so absolutely uninterested in this guy still speaking to you, and now, he was over-explaining how F-18 engines work and fly. You were a mechanical engineer. You knew how plane engines work.

You tried to tell him you did, but he was quick to interrupt to continue telling you about how F-18s have more than one-hundred thousand horsepower.

If you didn’t respect Penny’s establishment and reputation, he would’ve been thrown out of the bar by now. Typical men with their typical egos. Though now that you think about it, you’re sure Penny would have encouraged it.

Your eyes locked with Jake’s, and your eyes lit up at the familiar face. Finally, someone you actually enjoy talking to. Not that you would ever tell Jake that.

“Need savin’ over here, hot shot?” Jake had interrupted the aviator and ignored the very irritated look that was sent his way. It was almost like the guy was insinuating that he had caught you—that you were going to be his tonight. The feeling of possession he exuded made you want to gag again.

Jake could tell you wanted this shift to be over as soon as possible. Your eyes glanced at the random man staring at you before turning your attention back onto Hangman. “Nothing I can’t handle. How many beers?”

“Two, please.” Jake smiled—cocky little shit. “I think you should go talk to your boyfriend over there. He’s been stewin’ for quite a while.” He paused, eyes sliding over to the stranger. “I could even help ya with the bar.”

You turn around to fill up the empty glasses that he handed to you. “Don’t I know it, Bagman.” It was like the aviator that had been hitting on you all night had disappeared—though, you wish. Just you making drinks while your friends entertained you. It was nice for a moment, actually. “I’m due for a break soon enough.”

Jake spoke too soon, though, because Bradley was already making his way over to the bar. He couldn’t help himself when he saw the guy stare straight at your ass and bite his lip. The action made his blood seethe with vexation, so his feet started walking before his brain caught up.

“Boyfriend?” The guy looks shocked. His eyes were wide as he stared at you. “What the fuck? I’ve been trying all night, and you didn’t say a fucking thing?”

You pursed your lips. Irritated. “I did.”

“Huh?”

Rooster stood tall near the bar, watching the scene before him. He studied the menacing glare you struck at the guy and a hand resting on your hip.

“I told you multiple times when you were talking about damn plane engines that I have a boyfriend—who’s a naval aviator by the way. I’ve made it crystal clear.”

He didn’t miss a beat. The stranger’s eyebrows were furrowed in rage. He stood up from the bar in an irate stance. “You’re a fucking bitch. Do you go around eye-fucking all the guy's then?” His eyes move over to Jake’s.

“You allow your slut to do this, man?”

You, Jake, and Bradley all froze. The whole bar dulls out into silence from his loud gestures, and all eyes are on you four now.

The audacity of this kid to insult and degrade you when all you were doing was listening to this guy talk and talk. You gave clear signs of being uninterested. Clear. Not to mention he also had the sheer audacity to make a scene in Jake and Bradley’s presence.

“The fuck did you just say?” You were almost in his face as you leaned over the bar—a hard glare set on him with your fueled anger. The grip you had on the bar counter was starting to ache, but you didn’t care.

“Tame your fucking girl, would you?” Jake’s hands clenched by his side at the comment.

Bradley’s chest heaved up and down, and he could feel the burning emotion consume his entire body and soul. His hands were almost trembling by his side as his thoughts of tearing this asshole to shreds simmered inside his head.

The guy scoffed. He tried to turn around to leave but was met with Bradley’s hard chest. Clearly, he had no idea what was coming.

Bradley was sweet—a kind, gentle soul. He has picked you up from your lowest and drew you back up. He has told you things about himself that not even he understands. Bradley Bradshaw was a good man—one of the best, you would even argue.

However, he had a temper. Call it the jet fuel that was practically injected into his veins, but when that temper was pushed to the brim because someone fucked with you? Yeah, they should hope to be six feet under before Bradley could get to them.

Bradley towered over him, almost making the guy tower down. He was seeing red—fully unsaturated rage at the disrespect toward you. The guy tried to regain some confidence, oddly enough. “Move out of my way.”

Bradley didn’t move—he didn’t even blink. His jaw clenched and unclenched. His eyes bore into the stranger to assess him. His hand twitched at his side as if it was gearing up to make a move.

“Apologize. Now.” His voice was deep—it was gruff and hollow that immediately went straight to your chest. He didn’t look like the Bradley you knew, the Bradley that would carry you for three miles from a sprained ankle.

This Bradley looked menacing. This Bradley looked deadly. And you weren’t going to lie, it was hot as fuck.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Bradley’s eyes flashed with something you were unfamiliar with. He has been jealous before, yes, but it has mostly been the reassuring kind. This was pure seething rage. His eyes were almost red from the amount of anger that pulsated through his body.

“Apologize.” Bradley breathes out, but his eyes are digging into the man in front of him. “Or I will rip your fucking kneecaps off.”

Jake stood tall—back stretched out as he watched the interaction. He would spot for Bradley any day, especially to assholes like this random guy. He wanted to be ready for anything that could come Bradley’s way.

The guy opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut as Bradley took a step closer if it was even possible. He almost dared him too—almost wanted him to so Bradley could get in some punches that this guy deserved.

“I-I-I’m sorry.” The guy tried to take a step back but was met with the bar counter. “I didn’t mean—”

“Not me.” Rooster pointed directly at you. “Her.”

He spins around faster toward you than you had seen a person spin in your life. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He looks up to your boyfriend for approval, but Bradley’s eyes locked with yours. You nodded as a signal to your boyfriend that you were okay—things were okay. All you wanted was for this guy to leave and Bradley to be by your side again. It’s all you could think about.

Bradley’s eyes retreated back to the stranger, and you could have sworn that the guy almost flinched. “If I ever see you in here again, I will not hesitate. Do you understand?”

The aviator nods vigorously and tries to ignore the deadly glare from Bradley. His hands picked at his sides in nervousness. “Do you understand?” Bradley repeats.

The aviator’s eyes widened. “Y-Yes. I understand.”

Bradley’s posture somewhat succeeds back into a relaxed form, his eyes already returning back to you in comfort and warmth. Every tipsy person located in the bar had shouted in celebration for kicking out the guy that ruined all the fun. Coyote and Fanboy unkindly escorted him out of the bar and threw him out onto the sandy beach. “Don’t fucking come here again.”

In the bar, everything and everyone had gone back to normal. People started laughing and smiling once more—shoveling more drinks into their mouths. Some even started racking the balls on the pool table and throwing darts.

For you, though, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bradley.

He was on you in less than a second, taking two full strides around the bar in desperation. His hands gripped your hips harshly and his lips collided against your own. Your back bumps into the bar, which causes the bottles of booze to rattle against the glass.

His tongue is shoved into your mouth, and he groans deeply at the taste of beer. His nose harshly bumps against your cheek—messy and harsh with every swallow and molding of your mouth.

You almost whined into him. “Bradley.” Your breath fanned up against his cheeks, and his knees felt so fucking weak for you.

His body starts to sloppily drag you away from the bar and into the back corner of the Hard Deck. His lips never once left yours in a fury to feel you—to be inside of you at any and all cost. His hands make their way down the back of your thighs, and you instinctively jump. Your legs wrap around his torso as he continues to walk backward.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Go fuck like bunnies. I’ll man the bar, I guess.” But there was a hint of a small smile on his face. Finally, you two could cut the shit and fawn over each other once again.

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

Bradley pulls you into the supply closet near the break room at the back of the bar. His back hits one of the shelves, and you could hear the sound of cleaning bottles falling onto the floor.

Neither of you could stop your fluttering hands that followed each other’s curves. Bradley’s lips trailed down your jaw and neck, which left you breathless and aching for more. Your body feels hot—and elated—from his calloused fingers digging into the flesh on your stomach.

“Bradley, please.” He thinks he knows what you are begging for. He wants to taste you on his tongue. He wants you creaming into his mouth until you’re so dumb that you don’t even remember your own name.

To his chagrin, though, you stop the trailing hand that is trying to make its way between your thighs. “I wanna taste you, Bradley. I wanna swallow your cum.”

His eyes widened. “Fuckin’ hell—” Bradley breathes out, fast and light. He watches you sink down onto your knees and clumsily drag his shorts to pool around his ankles.

You weren’t very graceful from your pure desperation to have his cock in your mouth. Bradley didn’t mind, though.

His cock jumped from the sight and thought of you in such a state of yearning. “Pretty baby.” He whispered, but it sounded more like a whine.

Your lips trailed kisses around his thighs. “Do you know how hot it was to see you almost lose your shit on that guy?” Your words slurred together from the intoxication of his broad muscles and lips that were sucked in between his teeth.

You pull down his boxers and almost drool from his ruddy tip dripping in pre-cum. You lightly graze your fingers across his shaft and your mouth waters from his shaft twitching. Your eyes flickered up to see his reaction, his hooded eyes watching you pump his cock.

“You had been watchin’ me all night, Roo. I could feel it.”

He licked his lips. “He-He—” He moans your name. “F-Fuck. He-He can’t take you. I–” God, you’re so hot from your lust-filled eyes racking over his hopelessly hard cock. He withers in your grasp, and he couldn't help but say your name over again.

“Oh, Roo, no. He can’t take me, hmm?” You hum out the last part of the sentence so your mouth can gravitate to the bulging vein on the side of his cock. “I’m fucking yours, Roo. I’m yours.”

You swirl your tongue and suck your lips around his tip. His hands latch themselves into your hair, and he tugs and tugs. How is he already so close to the edge?

You’re barely touching him, but he feels like he’s on cloud nine, and the knot in his stomach twists and pulls.

“F-Fuck, pretty baby, yeah. You’re mine. You’re mine.” He repeats the saying as his hips involuntarily hump your mouth. You gag around him and his cock shoves further deep into your throat.

You want to guide him to a sweet release for being such a good partner to you. He is yours. He is your Bradley.

“Oh, fuck–fuck baby, please. My fuckin’ girl—yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He lowly groans out—deep, guttural, and sultry—while his cum paints the inside of your mouth. Thick ropes shoot into your mouth, and the salty taste made you salivate even more. Your eyes watch his hung-open jaw and his eyes trailing down to watch you suck around his cock.

You swallow all that he has to offer, and you moan out his name while still stuffed with his cock. His eyes widened slightly at the action, and his heart swirled in his chest. How did he get so lucky with you?

You go to stand up and pull his pants back up, but he catches your hands.

“Oh, pretty baby, you aren’t leaving me so soon, are you?” His palm rests below the back of your neck and pulls you into him. His breath fans up against your cheeks, and he presses sweet kisses on your jaw, working his way up to your temple.

“Roo, if you don’t fuck me right this minute—”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, pretty baby, we’re jus’ getting started.”

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw smut #smut #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #rooster smut #top gun #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun smut #top gun maverick smut

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sillylittlegirlthoughts · 1 month

Note

Hiii maybe wroetoshaw festival fic? Can either be social media or irl🫶🫶

festival | wroetoshaw

thank you anon for this request!! this is if you, harry and friends went to a festival together. i might also write a fic where you meet harry at a festival if you’d be interested !!

w2s x reader

open for requests.

Harry smiled at you as he watched you primp yourself up on the train. Purely afraid of being rushed out into the festival once you arrived. You hated being rushed.

He admired you, watching as your eyes light up and your smile grew wider as you and chip discussed the anticipation you both had for the following days. On the train was you, Harry, Chip and Freezy. Many others were going. The remainder of the sidemen, Callux, Talia, Freya and Willne. To name a few. Your friend group were extremely lucky with their opportunities but they found it was always for work that they were meeting up. Yes, this weekend many people were bringing along their vlogging cameras but they weren’t there because they had to be everyone wanted to be there.

“I’m looking forward to a couple of pints,” Harry added to the conversation. Chip laughed, “Aren’t we all my friend.” As he held up his water bottle waiting for Harry to return the toast.

liked by taliamar, w2s and 32,679 others

y/n y/l/n: weekend loading…..

theburntchip, cal sitting beside y/n sobbing

calfreezy, i thought i was loved

y/ny/l/n, who told you that?

w2s, chip looks like he’s already had a weekend

theburntchip, bugger off

y/ny/l/n, he did just have to sit beside you for three hours

taliamar, so so so excited to see you!!!!!

y/ny/l/n, i miss you!!

callux, please hurry some of us need a drink

The four of us arrived at our hotel, eager to get out and explore the festival grounds. You loved hotels, something Harry knew. You were too busy looking for the reception to notice Harry had changed which hand was lugging his suitcase as he intertwined your fingers with the other. You finally broke out of your trance. “Hi Harry.” You smiled and he sheepishly smiled back.

Once you all arrived in your room, messages from the groupchat came flooding through. Everybody begging the four of you to hurry. “Tell Simon we’ll be there in a minute,” you groaned, unable to find your shoes. “I just need to find these shoes.” You rummaged through your suitcase that might have been a little too full. “These ones?” Harry queried holding up your shoes as you pulled them from his hands. “Yes! Oh my god.” Harry smiled as you kissed him on the cheek, scurrying to put your shoes on.

You and Harry made it to the lobby just after Chip and Freezy. A group, probably to others distaste, were gathered in the middle. All riddled with a buzz of excitement. It radiated as you smiled as soon as you seen the herd of them. “Y/n!” You heard one of them shout, only if you knew which one. Harry’s name was called soon after as he came into their view. “So good to see you.” Callux said as he embraced you. “Great to see you too.” You smiled at him before being welcomed by another’s embrace and then it carried on. Eventually, everyone arrived on the field for the festival. The good thing was, music was playing from every end on every stage. Everybody ran for a drink. “Would you like a beer?” Harry asked, pointing to the bar some were already off too. “Please, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” He replied, giving your forehead a kiss before moving on.

As the sun went down, the atmosphere grew and drunk levels were significantly increased. You and Harry were dancing with one another, his hand sometimes resting on your waist but other than that it was reckless dancing. Unfortunately, as you danced your night away you knocked over a man’s beer behind you. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry—Let me, let me buy you another.” You scrambled as you picked up his cup, looking at him with apologetic eyes. “What the fuck! What the fuck!” He yelled, Harry turned around. “Hey mate, back off!” He shouted, the guy just laughing in his face. His girlfriend rapidly apologised logging her boyfriend through the crowd. “I’m so sorry. He’s so drunk. Sorry.”

Harry wrapped his arm around your shoulder as they walked away into the crowd. “Hey. You okay?” He yelled over the bustle of the crowd. “I’m fine, Harry. It’s just people when they’re drunk.” You said, it didn’t bother you but something about his anger felt so genuine even through the slurred speech and drunken eyes. Suddenly the crowd raved as the main artist came on stage. Harry nudged your arm with excitement. “For this first song, grab your significant other or maybe someone you care about.” Harry had never leaned into you faster his arms grasping your waist as he turned to face you. The song flowed as did your bodies. “I love you.” Harry spoke as he pulled you closer. “I love you more.” He pulled you in for a kiss and the night never felt younger.

y/ny/l/n posted!

liked by w2s, calfreezy and 23,216 others

y/n y/l/n: if i told you we only drank a little would you believe us?

w2s, i look out of it in everything im in

stephentries, you were

y/ny/l/n, you necked two pints in like 40 seconds

stephentries, i love my boyfriend 🥰

y/ny/l/n, you can have him

w2s, oi

willne, my shoulders are suffering

calfreezy, my heads suffering boy

taliamar, before my cowboy boots got destroyed thanks to simon

y/ny/l/n, men! i will get you new cowboy boots

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gurugirl · 9 months

Text

The Amateur | Special Preview

sugardaddy!ceo!harry x burlesque!dancer!yn

New Patreon exclusive short series preview! All parts out now on Patreon!

Series Summary: Y/n is a down-on-her-luck burlesque dancer sleeping in her car. Harry is a wealthy CEO looking for someone to spoil.

Preview Word Count: 1.7k

Her costume was lost or had never been ordered. She wasn’t sure. So, instead of having her first dance routine that night, she was booked to serve cocktails for a private party. Not how she envisioned her dance career progressing, but a job was a job. She needed the money. She needed to eat.

She was given a basic outfit to serve cocktails in. There were four cocktail waitresses. The little outfit was a bit showy for such a job, but she wouldn’t stick her nose up at it.

She curled her hair and pinned the front back and applied makeup. She adjusted her little outfit and tugged at the hem of the skirt. It barely covered her bottom. The tall heels were a touch too small for her feet but she took deep breaths and kept calm. The private party was in a large room (not the main room) with a small bar, some tables, and a stage.

She stood toward the entrance and watched the room get set up.

When the guests who’d booked the private party arrived, Y/n took her spot as directed and saw a group of ten men with nice suits and big attitudes walk in.

She immediately walked up to the table assigned to her and smiled brightly, “Welcome! Can I get you started off with a drink gentlemen?”

There were three tables for the guests and four cocktail waitresses spread amongst them.

Two beers, a whiskey neat.

Back and forth.

A round of shots for the group.

Water. Don’t forget the lemon.

No ice for the one with the grey suit and pink tie.

Her feet were killing her. She leaned against the bar and slid her shoes off for a moment of relief. The fucking things were an inch too high and a half inch too small, and she was struggling. She took a breather and watched over the table she was working. They had just gotten fresh refills and more water so they would be good for a bit.

The dancers on stage were having fun. Y/n could tell they were fill-ins. Not main stage worthy. Like Y/n, amateurs most likely.

Bethany put her hand on the bar next to Y/n, “Can you take my table their drinks? I need to go to the bathroom,” she told Y/n the order and ran off.

The bartender quickly got the order ready and Y/n reluctantly slid the borrowed heels back onto her feet. Somehow, the short rest for her feet only made putting the tight shoes back on worse. Her gait was affected. Her heels were blistered, and her toes were smushed in. She tried to maintain a natural stride on her way to the table but the only way she could stand to walk was to go very slowly.

“IPA?” She lifted the pint up and a man raised his hand as she placed the glass in front of him.

She handed off the drinks one by one and the last was a bourbon on the rocks. The only man who’d not yet been served was looking at her with anticipation of receiving his drink. She moved toward him and her attempt to not step fully down onto her heel had caused her to lose her balance and she dumped the whiskey onto the man’s nice suit.

She gasped and so did the man. Kicking her heels off she ran to the bar to grab towels and then back to the table.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, sir! This is my fault. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning…” She got to her knees and placed the towel over the top of his thigh and looked up at his face with worry and noted his surprised smile.

She used her other hand to wipe the table as she blotted the towel over his thigh. She had not expected a smile from him.

“Don’t worry. Happens to us all. I don’t need you to pay for the dry cleaning either,” he said as he took the towel from her.

His voice was calm and deep. He sounded British. She stood up and stared down at the man and realized how kind he looked. His smile was genuine and the dimples poking into his cheeks were boyish and cute. He had crystal green eyes and broad shoulders. He was handsome. She was thankful that he was kind.

“I’m really so sorry, sir. I feel so bad. I’ll get another one for you and make sure to put all your drinks on the house,” she knelt down to pick up her heels and as she turned to go back to the bar the man gently grabbed her wrist, “Another bourbon is fine. You don’t need to comp any of my drinks, though. Please. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.”

She looked down to where he had her wrist. He had rings along his long fingers. His hand was big. She looked back up to his face with a smile, “Are you sure?”

The man with curly brown hair smiled and nodded, “I’m sure.”

The rest of the night was far less exciting. When Bethany returned Y/n went back to her original spot. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking at the other table to the man who’d been so kind to her, even after she ruined his suit. He was attractive and it was clear to Y/n that Bethany also thought so. She gave extra attention to him. Anyone would.

When the guests had left and Y/n could put on her sneakers, the room got cleared and everyone went their separate ways. The club didn’t serve food, which Y/n had kind of hoped it would. She was hungry. She’d barely eaten anything all day long. Her day started off early trying to perfect the routine but then after hours of practice, she learned she wouldn’t be on stage because her costume was nowhere to be found.

Running back and forth in tight heels to serve liquor was just as tiresome as dancing on a stage. And being hungry on top of it all was brutal. Her stomach was growling as she walked out of the club and to her car parked at the side of the building where all the employees parked.

“There you are!” The voice of a familiar-sounding man startled her.

Y/n jumped and lifted her head to find the British guy with the bourbon-stained suit approaching her. Her eyes widened. As nice as he seemed in the club, she was hesitant to give him her full trust at 1 am in a dark parking lot with no one else around.

The man stopped in his tracks, “I’m sorry. I know you probably didn’t expect to see me, but I noticed you walking out and thought I’d just come and, I don’t know… maybe say hi,” he suddenly seemed more timid. Perhaps he realized how scary it could be as a woman to be approached by a man in this way.

Y/n gripped her keys tight and looked around. His soft smile put her at ease a little, “Yeah. I figured you guys all left already. I was just leaving for the night. Everything okay?”

Even in her alert state, she still wanted to make sure the man was all right. She was probably too nice for her own good.

His husky laugh sounded like relief in Y/n’s ears and it made her smile, “Everything’s fine. I was hanging back. I have a friend who works here. Just happened to see you leaving is all.”

Dimples.

Bright eyes.

Dark curls.

Tattoos, that she hadn’t noticed until now with his sleeves bunched up to his elbows.

He was attractive and his demeanor slowly put her at ease. She loosened the grip on the keys in her hand and finally smiled at him genuinely.

“Oh. Who do you know?”

“The owner. Richard. Short guy,”

“Bald,” Y/n spoke with a smile and Harry grinned back at her and nodded.

“Yeah. I’ve known him for years. Always lets me get in for a quick last-minute private party if I need. A lot of my colleagues enjoy the atmosphere.”

Y/n nodded and kept her eyes on the man. They both fell silent.

“Uh,” he lifted his hand up in a waving gesture and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m Harry.”

Y/n’s smile widened, “Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and stayed in his spot on the other side of her little car. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by getting too close.

“So, guess you’re headed home, huh?” Harry looked at her little silver car and back to her.

Y/n nodded, “Yep,” she didn’t know what home meant but she would consider her car her home at the moment.

Harry looked down at his feet and back toward the car, “I uh, are you new here? I mean, I only ask because I’ve never seen you around.”

Y/n nodded, “First day. Was supposed to be in the main room on stage but my costume was never ordered or it was lost, or I don’t know… So they had me serving cocktails. I just need the money so I’ll do almost anything at this point,” she laughed and her shoulders relaxed a little more.

Harry’s brows furrowed and he frowned, “Understandable.”

The silence grew loud again and Y/n shifted on her feet. Suddenly the sound of her stomach gurgling in hunger filled in the space in between them and she laughed it off, “Wow. I should uh, go get something to eat.”

Harry kept the small frown on his face, “Well, there are plenty of places open. Vegas baby. Right?” He chuckled lightly, “I guess I should leave you alone, huh? So you can find a spot to grab a meal,” Harry spoke as he backed away from her car, and slowly headed toward the main parking area.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for being so kind to me on my first day,” she slid the key into her door to unlock it and kept her eyes on the man.

He nodded and put his hands into his pockets, “It was nice meeting you, Y/n. And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. I’m around often.”

A/N: This 3 part series will only be posted on Patreon. If you'd like more of this, I'd be so thankful to you for subscribing! xoxo

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iifishizzleii · 8 months

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a 141!fanfic, except it’s told from the point of view of the reader’s best friend— you. like, actual you.

(pt. 2)

you, who sees neighbor!simon while walking the reader to their apartment late at night, catching simon as he steps out his apartment, locking the door and dressed to the nines in black and a balaclava, and you immediately drag reader into their apartment. you don’t even let them say hi to him because he’s a fucking behemoth dressed in “bitch what the FUCK” and with a hint of three “hell”s and four “naw”s. and there’s no way in hell you’re standing within ten feet of him without your mace. and when reader decides to bake him goodies anyways to be a ‘good neighbor’ despite your protests of “you think it’s cute until your fucking underwear is going missing when you do laundry and that guy is suddenly at every store and shop you go to”. (reader calls you an asshole for that, and you say you’re being realistic while holding back from putting cyanide in the brownie mix) and it ends up with neighbor!simon opening his door, eyes darting down to reader’s bashful smile and freshly baked goods, before widening a fraction when he sees you standing not too far behind with a metal bat behind your back.

you, who spots drunk!soap flirting with drunk reader at a bar and immediately whisks them away, arms wrapped around their sides like a mama bear carrying their cub. you ignore the pointed look the scottish man sends you, obviously annoyed at your interruption, so you flip him off and threatening to pin his dick to a wall if he so much as tries to follow you guys out. and when he persists, giving out his help to drag poor reader, intoxicated out of their mind, back to your car. so you start barking at him like how those girls would bark at unwanted attention from men in the tiktoks u see. and it shocks soap silent because one— he’s never been refused before. and two— he’s never been refused by a fucking bark. but he’s too flabbergasted (and drunk) to do much more than watch you toss reader into the passenger seat of your car and speed off. if he memorizes your license plate in that span of time, you don’t know that yet.

you, who’s visiting reader at the diner they work at. you’re sitting by yourself at one of the smaller booths— you don’t mind because you’re only there until reader gets off their shift so that you both can go hang out after. but, it’s five minutes before they can clock out when a man with skin the color of fresh soil and the roundest brown eyes knocks their drink on accident, a full pint of beer spraying all over the countertop. customer!gaz notices the spilt he caused, but only gives reader— who’d already changed out of uniform and had their bag slung over one shoulder— a glance and a quick smile before returning to his seemingly important conversation with a man in a boonie hat. and, that’s all it takes to get you rising from your seat and storming toward the scene, snagging a bunch of paper towels from your table and rushing over to help reader clean the mess up. you don’t care if you’re not supposed to— they’re off work, which means they shouldn’t be cleaning up after grown men who can’t spare their own mistakes a glance. and that’s exactly what you spit at both men, watching them both snap their heads at you as you loudly hiss, “you think you’re too fucking good to at least apologize for your mess? fucking dickeads”, then turning around to give reader a reassuring smile and helping finish in cleaning the mess. when customer!price begins to apologize and so does his companion, both looking equally apologetic, you only roll your eyes and guide reader out by the hand while also ignoring the way reader seemed to gush about both of the handsome men. as if they had conveniently forgotten about how it was their fault you both reeked of beer now.

you, who runs from hell and back to keep reader away from the 141 because they’re sketchy as fuck, even from a civilians standpoint. but, all that energy you put in redirecting their focus somewhere else, only puts it on an entirely unexpected target; you. like, actual you.

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madnessr · 1 year

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Last Night

Poly Lost Boys + Michael x Reader

Synopsis: You remembered the day you died vividly, and what had started as one of the best nights of your life quickly turned sour.

Summary: Micheals Ex-Girlfriend received a concerning phone call from Lucy begging her to come and check up on a now distant and unrecognizable Micheal. But what was meant to be a simple reunion and check-in, instead leads to four very rambunctious bikers and an old lover, to be extremely opposed to letting you leave again.

Warning: Suggestive moments, cursing, nonconsensual turning.

Word Count: 6.9k

Part two

The bustling chatter filled the packed room like music, unrelenting as some patrons laughed louder while others cheered softer. Every customer that walked in was rambunctious and different in their own unique way. Although becoming a bartender differed from how you had always pictured your future, ditching your home life was worth every tip and penny you earned throughout the night.

You were a good actor; that's one noteworthy little fact you learned about yourself after a few weeks. Wiping dry a martini glass, your chuckles, greetings, and mischievous remarks almost felt unfamiliar to you as you entertained the customers.

But when the lights dimmed, casting a gentle orange hue against every surface of the bar. The acting, the gestures, and the remarks all began feeling natural.

It left you with a sweet sense of satisfaction, like pushing in the last puzzle piece. But, although the usuals felt more comfortable, you still weren’t to open to the idea of becoming closer to anyone. For all you knew, these people were just here for a drink.

One visit turned into two, then three, until you could recite everyone's orders and names. Your life gradually followed the same schedule as clockwork, checking in either during the morning shifts like Monday, Tuesday, and Saturday instead of staying for the wild nightlife like Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday. A small bell was hanging above the door, giving you and your occasional coworker a heads-up whenever a new patron entered the bar. It was easy to get overwhelmed, the loud bumbling chatter nearly drowning out the music playing. Drunks laughed and cheered with rosy-cheeked grins; others decided to rough-house until Pablo kicked them out.

Filling a pint of beer for your usual customer, you nearly missed the soft chin of bells as someone new entered. The door swung open, and in came a blonde biker who took your breath away. Pulling at your strings as if he was some violinist, plucking at the cords until your chatter turned utterly harmonious. It was like a strange pull, a tugging, nudging aching within your racing heart that simply needed him there. It both excited you and disturbed you. Your banter with the biker didn't last long; he ordered four bottled beers, his gaze never wavering as you shuffled past your coworker making some margaritas for a group of girls as you grabbed the beers out of the freezer and handing them over before grabbing his cash. "You new here?" You finally asked, and you weren't exactly sure what to expect, but his voice matched his looks perfectly.

You snickered, leaning over the bar. Phoenix had some exciting faces to offer, all styles and types. But it was rare you found one that was this attractive.

The biker shrugged; a type of smugness hung across his features. A simple look in his eyes gave you another clue, the man was higher than a kite. "Just haven't seen such a pretty face around in a while." He tapped his hand on the counter with a slight chuckle, stepping back as he waved before walking out the door. You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement as you focused on the other customers. Though, you couldn't quite keep the blonde out of your head.

Not even when your shift ended, wiping a gray-soaked washcloth across the counters and tables. Your coworker cleaned and mopped the floors before you both clocked out. You entered the employee's room, grabbing your belongings before exiting through the back door. You hopped in your car, the streets still thriving, but you only lived several blocks away from the teenage hotspot when things began to gradually cool down. Luckily that's where your shabby little hut came into view.

It wasn't perfect, but decent, and the rent was cheap, so you weren't gonna complain. Parking your bike, you walked up your porch. The old wood creaking underneath your steps, shuffling to grab your keys, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you. Turning to glance around, you rushed to open the door before entering your safe and humble abode. You locked the door, kicking off your shoes with a sigh as you walked towards your bedroom. You felt a little sluggish now that you were free to be, removing your clothes and hopping in the shower. The piping hot water felt heavenly across your skin, and if you weren't so damn hungry, you would've stayed longer. Loose pajamas, some fluffy socks, and you walked back into the kitchen, heating up some leftovers from the previous night and popping open a can of beer.

You were a rather heavy drinker, one bottle often turned to three, and three would often multiply sooner rather than later. Some people might have called you an alcoholic, but you didn't really mind. Alcohol was your ambrosia, and god fucking dammit, were you willing to die for that nectar. You were on your way to grab the third beer of the night when you heard a small thump against the window.

You found it odd that a bird would hit your window, especially since they weren't nocturnal. But as you wandered over and slid open the window, you watched as a bat squeaked at you. Blonde fluffy fur as it flew away in a rush. You didn't necessarily like bats, but you didn't hate the critters, either. This was your first time seeing one in real life, your eyes flicking to the tree a few feet away from your window. There on the bottom branch, hung the monster, making you laugh. "Sorry, Dracula, the bar closed two hours ago." You were about to close the window wanting to grab your last beer and finish up your movie before heading to bed.

But you halted as you watched the bat struggle on its branch, sloppily falling off and hitting the floor with a small thud. You frowned; you might not know much about bats, but they sure as hell avoided being on the ground. You hesitated before grabbing a towel and an empty shoe box; perhaps, if you were lucky enough, the bat would have flown away by the time you got to it. But unfortunately, the small little bundle of blonde fur still lay frozen on the ground. Sighing, you carefully scoop it up with the towel and lay it in the box before heading back inside.

You sat the box on the kitchen table, sitting down and taking a proper look at the thing. "You must've hit your little head when banging into the window.." You muttered, watching it stare back at you lazily. Whenever it tried to waddle its way out of the box, its little body swayed before eventually tumbling back into the fluffy fabric.

"Looks like you're stuck with me for the night, little guy." You cooed, a small smile tugging at your lips. It let out a small squeak. If you didn't know any better, you would say the bat understood you, turning around and grabbing an apple and a simple cutting knife. You sliced off a small piece, laying it in the box. You didn't know what the hell bats ate, and you weren't going to go out of your way to try and find some insect in your yard, so an apple slice will have to do for now.

Grabbing the box once more, you moved to your bedroom, entering the bathroom through a joined door. You set the box down, waving at the small bat before turning off the lights and closing the door. You got yourself settled and lay down, turning off your bedside lamp and letting out a content sigh. But then you heard it, the muffle whining and whimpers of the small creature in your bathroom. Letting out a groan, you tried covering your face with a pillow to try and drown out the noise, but it was a fruitless endeavor. Getting up with a huff, you turned on the light once more before moving over. You opened the door, flicking on the light as you watched it try and waddle towards you. "Can't you be quiet?" You groan, rubbing your temples.

However, you couldn't help but notice the silence once you had actually acknowledged the bat again, rolling your eyes at its strange antics. "Look, I can't give you attention all night. I need to sleep." You argue, watching the little creature climb up your foot and use its little claws and wings to crawl up your body.

Perhaps it was the previous drink, or your clear disregard for your own sense of self preservation, but you walked back to your bedroom with a shrug. If the little guy just had to sleep with you, then so be it. Sure, the thing could have rabies for all you new but the moment your aching feet lifted themselves onto your soft mattress; you no longer cared.

"Night night, Dracula." You snickered, closing your eyes and falling into a hollow state of peace.

Walking up, once again alone, fills you with a familiar sense of loneliness. You look around for your little companion, but you simply couldn't find him. You opened all of your windows in case you missed the little guy hiding somewhere before walking down into your kitchen for breakfast. You'd never admit it out loud, but having broken up with your long-term boyfriend, Michael, was rough on you. Half the time, you wallow in alcohol and self-loathing, spending any free time working and trying your damn hardest to move on. The relationship's end wasn't anyone's fault, really; when his father's divorce was finally settled, Michael needed to be with his mom, she needed him during this time, and you couldn't blame him for leaving with you. Looking back on it, you both could've made it work somehow, the long distance, but neither of you two found yourself to really fight for that option.

Sipping on your morning coffee was your ritual, reminiscing about your short past, a daily activity. But today, you were interrupted by the obnoxious sound of your phone ringing. Getting up and plucking the phone from the wall, your body tensed at the sweet sound of Lucy, Michaels's mother. She was the kindest person you knew, a relaxed parent that focused on a kid's trust rather than forcing the truth out from your experience.

"Hey honey, how have you been?" Her familiar, parental tone hummed over the phone. The sound tugged a smile across your lips. "Dandy, what about you, Lucy?" You knew better than to know Lucy wasn't just calling to check in with you, and although every fiber of your being wanted to cut to the chase, you managed to stay polite. Lucy let out a hum, happy with your answer. "I'm good—we're all good. But, listen, I'm sorry to call you for this, but it's about Michael." You nodded, although you knew she couldn't see you; you stayed silent, asking her to continue. "He's changed, distant. He hasn't been the same, and Sam says he's been involved with some worrisome people. I know it's a lot, but I can't help but worry. He won't talk to me, but he'll talk to you. I'll provide you with a room and everything; just please check in for me."

You could tell she was pleading; her tone was very clear with that. But could you really do this? You and Michael broke up, but you've been together since freshman year. You knew his family, and he knew yours; even if you weren't together anymore, you were still friends. With a long sigh, you rubbed your temples.

"Alright, I'll be there."

You don't plan on staying long, glancing at the backseat of your car where a small suitcase sits. You brought the essentials, but since it was summer regardless, you wanted to consider this a short beach-side vacation for yourself as well. It made coming to Santa Carla more reasonable.

Following the address Lucy promptly gave you afterward, you drove up the narrow driveway to an old-looking house. It must've been a generational home bought in the 40s if you had to guess. The sun was already setting by the time you arrived; stepping out of the car, you were greeted by an excited Lucy. However, you knew her better than that. The small stress wrinkles give away how worried she must've actually been.

She embraced you in a big bear-like hug, making you chuckle as she brought you in for some coffee. You sat inside, shielded by the hot California sun, as you stirred some creamer into your coffee. You two sat in the kitchen, a small desk separate from the main dining table.

"So, care to tell me a little more about what's been happening?" You ask, knowing that if you avoided the subject, so would Lucy. She let out a sigh, rubbing her temples as she nearly deflated before you.

"You know it's been hard for them—the divorce. Sam wasn't that close with his father; I'm afraid he experienced a more absent father figure than Micheal did. No, Micheal grew up with everything being perfect; I had a good marriage, and he had a good father and a stable home life." Lucy hummed, taking a long sip of her coffee.

"I know it wasn't easy for them. For any of us, really, but as a parent, I can't help but wonder. Did I do the right thing? Was Santa Carla really what the boys needed?"

You weren't exactly sure what to say; both you and Michael were adults at this point and were mature enough to have a conversation like this. But before Lucy was your friend, she had been more of a mother figure for you. Seeing her struggle so much makes you frown, a heaviness tugging at your lips. People really could be awful sometimes. You grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as you smiled at her.

"Listen, I know being a parent is hard. But you're a good mom, okay? You have been since the start. But you need to listen; this move wasn't just for them. It was for you as well. You suffered a shitty divorce and dealt with an even worse ex-husband. You deserve this new start; let me handle Michael; I'm sure he'll come around." You watched as small tears seemed to prickle at her eyes, "Oh you!" She sang before pulling you into a hug. "I've missed you." She added, rubbing small circles on your back. You couldn't help but smile, not saying it but letting the small squeeze you returned to the hug speak for you.

The sun had already set as you managed to unpack your things in the guest room, tackling Sam in a big-old sibling-like hug before heading to the boardwalk with him. Lucy had left a few hours earlier for work, which is where you were headed now. Sam led the way as he filled you in on Micheals's behavior. To say you were concerned now was an understatement; nothing Micheal did now made sense. This wasn't like him.

You walked over to the Videotape store and found Lucy glancing at the videotapes decorating the walls. You walked around, glancing at the movies that might interest you. You eventually ended up in the same aisle as a brown biker, someone who vaguely reminded you of the blonde one you met days ago. You were about to pick up The Shining when the man interrupted.

"You new here?" He eventually asked, his gaze lingering for an unusually long time. You struggled, letting out a dry chuckle. "That obvious, huh?" You hummed, feeling more at ease. The man was more stoic than you were used to, but the moment you heard his own amused chuckling, your tense shoulders gradually dropped. The man was mesmerizing, a special charm in every little trinket and clothes covering him. You felt an annoying sense of deja vu, feeling your heart push and pull your subconscious self towards this man. To gush about his leather jacket or talk about anything else for hours. He seemed to smile, catching your lingering gaze before clearing his throat and pointing towards one of the videotapes. "The Shining's good, but if you're into that, I'd recommend The Thing and Nightmare on Elms Street too." All you could do was nod, spinning around when you saw Lucy. She smiled at the brunette, handing you something as you rushed out of the shop. Any tapes and movies are utterly forgotten, and you search for space. You made brief eye contact with the man Lucy had been talking, feeling unsettled by him.

You walked along the patios of the shops lining the boardwalk; they were lightly covered in sand. A grainy texture underneath your shoes. You sat there for a moment before your eyes caught the sight of a familiar head of messy brown hair.

Jumping to your feet, you were off. Not sparing anyone a second glance, not until you were about to reach Micheal. You could feel it, that nostalgic giddiness you usually felt whenever you and Micheal met, but during that time, you were still together. You could jump into his arms and kiss his dimpled cheek; the sudden realization that you hadn't actually seen the brunette since you broke up made your heart squeeze. Seeing him felt more real, and the growing realization that nothing would ever be the same again made the air feel heavy.

You paused as you saw a girl with bouncy curls rush over to him, a small boy close behind as she linked their arms. You hadn't realized until then that a part of you was still clinging onto a foolish, utterly bitter sense of hope that things could return to the way they were. You couldn't have been more foolish, the excitement within you replaced with a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to turn around, run away, and drink until you cough your lungs out on some empty street bench. But you couldn't; you weren't here for Michael or yourself; you were here for Lucy's sake.

Taking in a deep breath, you walked over and cleared your throat. Michael had walked up to a group of guys, two of whom you recognized. They turned to you, four eyes curiously staring at one, another pair looking upset, and lastly, Michaels were surprised.

“Y/N?”

"The one and only." You rolled your eyes, trying to retain a sense of normality despite your emotional turmoil. The hippy-look-alike glanced between you two, taking an almost protective step in front of Micheal. "Who are you?"

Before Micheal could answer, you beat him to it. "A friend." You mused, shaking her hand. "I'm Y/N, an old childhood friend from Phoenix." She seemed to relax at the information, nodding with a gentle smile. "I'm Star, Micheal's girlfriend."

Hiding your soft grimace, you nodded with a strained smile.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?"

"Not going to introduce us first, Mikey?" The smooth voice hummed out, but the tone was laced with something else. You couldn't place it, but it almost sounded dissatisfied. You couldn't really answer before Micheal grabbed your arm, a bit too tight for your liking. "Stay out of it, David."

Micheal dragged you away, taking advantage of your stunned state. You suddenly understood what Sam and Lucy had been worrying about. Micheal didn't act like that, at least not for the past few years you've known him. He shoved and pushed his way through the crowd, though that wasn't very hard considering how the people practically split just to avoid you two. He didn't look back at you, nor did his grip loosen until you two were somewhere at the end of the boardwalk; the crowd lessened with every meter.

When you finally came to a stop, you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug. One of his arms snaked around your waist, a grip firm but gentle. His other hand had tangled itself in your hair, practically cradling your head as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

If you didn't have whiplash from the sudden rushing, you definitely had some now from the abrupt affection. He seemed to be, inhaling you? "Micheal." You nudged his chest, finally able to separate yourself from a very unwilling brunette.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" His voice was gentle, careful even. As if you'd run away again, which was odd since you weren't the one who left.

"I came to visit you; I see you've made some new friends.." You wandered over to the railing, hopping on carefully.

"Yeah, a lot's happened." He murmured, rubbing his neck to relieve his phantom discomfort. You nodded, silently asking him to go on. "Your family's worried about you; what's been going on, Mikey?" You nudged further, wanting to get to the core of the problem. You couldn't try and help if you didn't know what the hell was going on, but your prodding seemingly did the opposite as Michael became visibly more uncomfortable. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, rubbed his neck and brushed his fingers through his hair.

"I know, I know—a lot has been going on. I just can't tell you about it." He settled on that answer, getting closer before resting beside you. He leaned his forearms against the railing, glancing at the ocean.

"Will you be staying here for long?" You could tell he was trying to change the subject but ultimately decided that patience was the key in this situation. But apart, small and subtle, I enjoyed the way his question almost sounded pleading.

"Mhm, took a few weeks off for vacation. Lucy's giving me her spare room; I hope you don't mind." He shook his head, his signature crooked smile tugging at his lips. "Nah, I'm glad. Haven't spent any time with my girl in a while."

"Your girl?"

He stuttered at that, "I mean—you know, guess that kinda just slipped." He seemed embarrassed, but you weren't gonna have it. What about Star?

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"Star? No, she isn't my girlfriend. It's complicated, but we haven't ever really gotten official." He explained, rubbing his temples at the thought.

You nodded, "Then don't call me your girl Micheal. We broke up; I'm your friend. Please remember that." You reminded him as gently as you could, noticing the subtle flash of pain across his features before he nodded.

Feeling the sudden heaviness in the air, you frowned, looking around as you thought of a way to change the subject. "So, who exactly are your friends?"

"Allow me to take charge of this one, Micheal." A deep, familiar voice mused. The blonde mullet-wearing dude always seemed like a cat, sneaky and quiet but always in the mood to toy with something, in this case, someone.

"Since our Mikey seemed to hide you from us, which is awfully rude of you. I'll take charge from here." He stepped closer, glancing you over. He had an odd look in his eyes and almost seemed angry with Michael for taking you away. However, before the blonde could talk, a rocker look-like, the man you had sworn you saw in your bar prior bounced up beside you and slung his arm around your shoulder.

You ignored the tingles you felt when your bare skin met his but instead chucked it up to your lack of action recently. "I'm Paul, sweetheart!" He stared at you for a bit too long for comfort before moving on. "That's Marko, David, and the brooding guy over there is little ol' Dwayne."

"Why did Dwayne get an extra introduction, and I'm just Marko?" You couldn't help but chuckle at the banter, feeling like the group was awfully playful. So what was the problem? You could see Micheal having a good time with them, so why the sudden change.

"Well, I'm Y/N. Michael's, old friend." You formally introduced, not expecting much, but Dwayne nodded. All of them seemed to be in their own world, Dwayne appearing the most interested. Had you known how focused they actually were on you, analyzing your heart beat, body language, anything they could grasp onto you would've run.

"What brings you to Santa Carla Y/N." David leaned against the railing, his cold gaze curious. "Seems like a pretty far distance to go for just a friend." He added, and at that moment, you got the sense that you just couldn't lie to David. That cold, icy gaze practically looked through you. As if he's had years of experience understanding human behavior, it unnerved you.

"Well, I'm also here for a vacation." You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

He gave you a look that simply screamed that he didn't believe you before moving on. "Are you gonna be staying here for long, sugar?" Marko took you out of that uncomfortable situation, making you nod with a hum. "Depends on what you consider long, but I'll be here for a few weeks."

"Well, we ought' to show you around here then. Show you all Santa Carla's got to offer!" Marko hollered, which received agreeing gazes from everyone except Micheal, who appeared rather upset. But you were here, and what better way to understand Micheal than by meeting his friends. "The hell with it." You mused, a grin tugging at your lips at the cheers and eager looks around you.

So, you explored Santa Carla just like Marko had said. Practically losing your soul during the fast carnival rides, winning petty prizes, eating greasy food, fucking with surfer nazis, and stealing some things here and there. So now you were here, surrounded by the starry sky and the roaring ocean. A campfire crackling on the sand as you were sitting in between Michael and Dwayne. With a beer bottle in hand, everyone seemed relaxed despite the playful fighting happening between Paul and Marko.

"So, tell me a little about yourself. How'd you come to know our boy Mikey here?" David had been on your ass since you met; he didn't let your lie slide earlier, even if he hadn't acknowledged it. He was so eager to know about the true nature between you and Micheal, and at the question, you couldn't help but notice Star perk up beside Micheal.

"Nothin' much to tell, I'm afraid. I met Michael when he was interning at his father's mechanics shop when I finally got a car from my old man, only to have it break down on me several weeks later. That is where we met." You glanced at Michael, seeing a faint smile tug on his lips as he seemingly played with the sand.

"I was new, and he offered me a tour around town. One thing led to another, and we became friends. Didn't get together until what, junior year? Yeah, around that time." You add, watching as Paul and Marko suddenly stop rough-housing. "Wait, you two were together?" Paul asked, staring between your two. "You said you were just friends," Marko added, an odd glint in his eyes. You shrugged, taking a quick swig of your beer.

"We are just friends, Mikey and I broke up when he left for Santa Carla." You glanced at the brunette, seeing the way his smile had dissolved. There was a glaze to his eyes as if he was somewhere else completely. You understood; perhaps that's why you guys got together in the first place. You simply understood Michael, the way he was currently dancing with you again in his memories. It was apparent to you.

"Ah." The sound of David's stern hum of acknowledgment made you turn your attention back to the group of boys. They all seemed to be in thought, but none looked too pleased with your previous relationship. "Been happily single ever since—well, I haven't really been looking, to be honest." You added, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, you hear that, boys?" Paul grinned, getting up and moving behind you. He rested his hands on your shoulder, leaning down to rest his chin on the top of your head. "She's open for the taking!"

"That is not what I meant—"Before you could finish your sentence, Paul and Marko picked you up. They cheered as they ran towards the inky black ocean water, grinning to themselves as Paul held your hands and Marko your feet. They swung you threateningly over the water's edge. Your screams were filled with laughter as they grinned.

"What do you say, Paul? Should our little sunflower get a drop in the ocean for lying to us?" Paul grinned a mischievous cat-like grin. Glancing at Marko, the expression was practically mirrored. "I don't know, Paulie; maybe she should. Wash off all of that Michael stench off of her."

"Don't drop me! Fuck you, seriously. Don't you dare!" You warned, trying to wiggle yourself out of their death grip.

"Nah, threats won't work on us, honey. Maybe a reward will work, hmm. What do you think, Paul?"

"I think a kiss ought' to do it," Paul answered, glancing between you and his devil-like companion. "Couldn't agree more."

"Fine, fine, have your stupid kiss but let me down!"

As if on cue, they synced up. "If you say so!" Marko cheered as, with a powerful swing, they threw you over and into the water. You let out a shrill screech, landing in the water ungraciously. Once you popped back up, you glared at the two.

Wincing as you tried to get up, you promptly plopped back into the water with a splash. They heard you loud and clear, and Michael was already by Marko and Paul's side. David and Dwayne followed, but not as quickly.

"You okay, sugar?" Paul asked, frowning as you shook your head. You held out a hand to him, silently asking for help to get up. When he walked over to you, not minding his now wet boots. He grabbed your hand, not expecting you to harshly tug him down and into the water with you.

You cackled, wanting to commit the blonde's dumbfounded expression to memory. "Damn girl, you made me worried!" He explained, and Marko nearly doubled over laughing. He splashed you, wrapping his arm around your waist under the water. You froze, not expecting the contact. "That was rather evil of you, sunflower," he mused, in a tone far too low and husky than you had expected coming from the rocker-wannabe.

"And throwing me into the water, wasn't?" You mimicked, turning to glance at him. He laughed, pulling you closer. You could feel his breath taunting your skin; his gaze was all too narrow and lustful for your liking. He looked hungry, practically starved, as he grinned at you. "But I am evil, sunflower, and the one thing you can trust in a bad guy is that he'll always do something awful. It's the good ones you gotta be careful about," He hummed, his gaze shifting to your lips. He lifted his hand, cupping your jaw as he traced his thumb against your lip. "The good ones are a wild card, baby; you never know when they're finally gonna give in." He whispered, and at that moment, you knew he wasn't just talking about petty, mean deeds.

He was referring to you if the position you weren't in wasn't clear enough. However, before you could respond, Michael broke you two up. Unable to form a proper response, you followed your old friend, watching as he returned you to the rest of the group.

"What were they thinking? You'll catch your death being wet this late at night!" Micheal murmured as he complained, making you roll your eyes. "I'm fine; we were just having some fun." You defended, watching as Marko slung his arm around your shoulder. "Yeah, chill out, Mikey."

Dwanye seemed to agree with Micheal instead as he grabbed your hand and gently led you back to the campfire to warm up again. He didn't mind the sudden chill now; your body was still fired up from your earlier encounter with Paul. You felt a heavy cloth drape over your shoulders, glancing to see David's coat loosely set over you. He sat down beside you, handing you your previously abandoned beer bottle.

"Thanks," you smiled.

"It's already so late, yet you don't seem even the slightest bit tired. Do you usually stay up this late?" He asked though he didn't look at you at first. One of his hands loosely held a cigarette, letting a puff of smoke escape through his lips. His eyes focused on the blazing fire in front of you before gradually looking into your eyes. Once again, you could feel your ability to lie fade, not with such a dominating gaze practically reading you.

"I work at a bar most days of the week; you get used to late nights." You explained, being honest for once. He nodded, seemingly appreciating your bluntness.

"Doesn't sound like that's the safest job." Dwayne chimed in, an odd look of concern across his features. You weren't sure what to make of that look; you weren't close enough to garner that concern. But couldn't deny the fluttering in your stomach, fuck, how starved were you for affection?

"Neither is staying in Santa Carla, but here we are." You murmured, a little embarrassed at yourself for being so desperate. You couldn't really describe it, but being around them felt right. Having their attention felt right, and a part of you wanted to keep it. David chuckled at your answer, subtly resting his hand on your thigh.

"Yet here we are." He repeated, his deep voice sending shivers down your back.

"Fuck." You heard someone hiss loudly, everyone's gaze turning to Micheal, who was staring at his watch. "David, it's nearly sunrise." He cursed sternly, sending panicked looks across everyone except the leader. You were surprised yourself, having completely lost track of time. But you were a little confused as all the guys got up and guided you back to the pier.

"You guys got a curfew or something?" You asked, biting the inside of your cheek. Dwanye chuckled as he and the others walked over to their bikes. "Miss us already, sugar?" Paul hummed, getting on his bike. Micheal shook his head, taking your hand gently in his. He caressed the chilled hand with his thumb, and you couldn't help but notice that Micheals's hand was just as cold as yours. "We just have something we need to do; see you tomorrow?"

"You're not going home?" You asked, slightly surprised at the sudden change in atmosphere. "No, like I said, we have something planned." He seemed more nervous, rubbing his neck. A nervous tick he developed when Michael was lying. But you didn't feel like pushing, so you let go of his hand with a sigh.

He walked to his bike, the five starting their engines with a powerful roar. Paul and Marko wave as they drive off, Dwayne following. Michael stared longingly at you, starting his back before driving off too. David moved but promptly stopped before you. One of his feet resting on the floor. He caressed your cheek with his gloved hand, watching you carefully. You felt pulled as if the boy's leaving was pulling your heart along with them. "You think to much." David hummed teasingly, staring into your eyes. "Come back to the boardwalk tomorrow; I'll come and find you," he instructed, not leaving any room for debate.

"How'll you manage that?" You taunted, your breath hitching as he promptly leaned closer.

But instead of a snarky remark, his hand that rested on your cheek slid back. Tangling his fingers in your hair, keeping a firm grip on the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a searing kiss. Sparks flew, and you were sure you could have burnt yourself at the searing heat of the kiss. David wasn't gentle, and there was a dominating eagerness to his lips that commanded your utter acceptance. His teeth playfully nipped your bottom lip, pulling it slowly as he parted. You pulled away with lidded eyes, observing the same intoxicated look flash across David's features.

"See you tomorrow, baby." He chuckled, roaring his engine before leaving you. It took you several minutes to recuperate, walking back into the main center of the boardwalk.

Walking past a closing video store, you weren't really paying attention to your surroundings. The sound of a man's voice pulling you out of your daze, looking around your eyes connected with those of a middle-aged man. You recognized him as the video store owner, who must've said something to you.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You asked, now focused on the man.

"I said you should stay away from those bikers; they're nothing but trouble." His words seemed stern, yet they had the unnerving power to upset you.

"Yeah, you know them or something?" You asked in an accusatory tone, hearing the man shake his head with a small sigh.

"You've got the same attitude as them; if it were up to me, I wouldn't let you in. But Lucy always wanted a daughter." The man's tone turned sadistic as he got closer, pushing you into a nearby alleyway. Panic shot through you, every fiber of your being screaming at you to run. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. But before your fight or flight response could kick in, you were knocked against the wall with such force the wind was knocked out of you. Leaving you disoriented and wheezing for air.

You felt his fangs graze your skin, a small sob escaping you. A fear of dying, hate for pain, and lingering betrayal being too much for your eyes to hold. What did Lucy have to do with this? You didn't deserve to die, not like this!

You were scared. One of your hands placed itself on his chest, clenching the fabric of his jacket between your fingers as you desperately tried pushing him away. Thrashing as much as you could. When the pain finally arrived, you winced harshly and gasped. The hold on the man's jacket grew tighter as his jaw clenched. It fucking hurt. Hurt like hell. But he refused to move, not wanting to make the feeling worse. The longer you stood there, the more accustomed you felt to the dull aching. It was an awful feeling, leaving you feeling dirty all over, but whatever was happening, it sparked hopes that you might get out of this alive.

You could feel particular sharp sparks of pain whenever you moved, shifting the puncture wounds. Your mind grew cloudy the longer he drank.

"Stop.." You whispered, the words sounding frail and weak. The man needed to stop. Your body was slowly growing light, the feeling of dizziness and sleepiness festering inside you. The hand holding onto him loosened its grip before slowly falling against your side. Your tears had stopped a few minutes ago, your cheeks glistening from the wetness. Your eyes grew dull in color, silently fighting yourself to stay awake. You could practically hear your heart hammering against your chest, each beat loud and overwhelming as it rang through your ears.

It felt like you were dying, and a part of you was convinced you actually were.

Your body was in a state of searing, burning pain. Your heartbeat rang like cathedral drums, harsh and loud before the sound turned quiet. One beat, a pause, then silence. Your body limp and cold, your lifeless body let the blood of its murderer wash down your tongue. Suddenly everything began to burn inside you; your mouth ached horribly, and your fingertips too. Your body felt freezing cold until some drop of relief washed over you, and through your mouth came a small stream of euphoria. Practically lighting your every fiber on fire. Your eyes opened, no longer their usual color but a vivid yellow. Your hand instinctively grabbed the man's wrist, your mind going blank as you sink your teeth into the crimson liquid.

A sigh of relief escaped you as you closed your eyes, swallowing greedily as you calmed the burning inside yourself. You didn't let the man budge, your new, sharpened nails practically digging into his forearm. You felt insatiable; no matter how hurriedly you lapped and sucked on the wound, you wanted more, more blood.

You didn't relent; you practically couldn't. But the urge to look up at your murderer was undeniable. You pulled away, a small trail of the man's blood trailing down the corner of your lips as you looked up at him. Large, doe-eyed hungry eyes stared up at him, the look of a pure predator.

You had died in that alleyway, after all; a part of you just knew that. With speed unrecognizable, you ran away, not sure where, but far, far, away from the boardwalk.

The next night, David and the others did not find you at the boardwalk. But none of them were just going to let you go like that, no, not when mates were so hard to find. It was hard enough for them to have let you go last night, and if it wasn't for the threat of the approaching sun, they wouldn't have. Their boardwalk princess was missing, and there would be hell to pay if they didn't find you soon.

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peachesofteal · 8 months

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Fae!Price/female reader This is a little piece of Long and Lost from this world.

Inside the pub on main, there is a girl.

She’s a normal girl, to most, perfectly ordinary in nearly every way. She works her job, sees her coworkers, visits the darkly lit bar for a pint every now and then. Within the throngs of people drinking and eating and laughing, she appears like any other. Dark eyes watching the television with mild interest, glancing across other people’s faces politely. A brown coat, dusky orange scarf, a pair of blue jeans. Black leather boots that are scuffed at the toe. She orders a beer, keeps to herself, and minds her manners. She blends in so seamlessly, you’d never take a second look her way if you were in this bar, drinking with your friends, having a laugh.

The only thing that could possibly distinguish her, is the black ribbed turtleneck. The bartender has never seen in her any other shirt, even in the summer. He assumes it’s because she’s a creature of comfort who likes what she likes, the type who enjoys a staple piece. It’s how he thinks of her, whenever she settles herself at his bar. The turtleneck girl.

He doesn’t know the turtleneck hides the most unique thing anyone in this town would ever see. He doesn’t know that the skin beneath her jaw glows with a sea glass green mark, one that calls to a world beyond a veil, that shines like a lighthouse guiding its lover home through treacherous seas. A mark unique in its shape, size and power, unlike any of this realm, or any realm, save for one.

It’s nearly midnight when they arrive.

Almost everyone has gone home for the evening, and only the bartender, the turtleneck girl, and the old man linger.

When the bell chimes, they all glance at the newcomers, and only the girl does not say hello. She does not say anything in fact, choosing to look immediately down into her half empty pint, turning the options over in her mind. The bartender welcomes them, directs them to choose a place a sit, wherever they like, hospitality their kind does not deserve, a truth no one here could know, except for her. The back door is so, so close to where she’s perched, and she could make it, if she ran. If she flew, she could be outside the pub and over the rooftops in seconds, leaving this town to the ash, to the destruction that the 141 will surely wring from its bones, as they do most places, in most realms.

A trace of power slithers across her skin. It’s a probe, an inquiry of some kind, scratching at the shell surrounding her magic, tapping against the ethereal light that sits trapped inside her chest. Her muscles tense, thighs shaking with the effort to hold still, hold her breathe, hold herself at bay. She wants to explode, wants to Shine inside this pub and shred the Fae hunters to pieces, wipe them from this plane of existence and send them back to their own.

They’re war addicted, hungry beasts. They don’t belong here.

But they’re not the only monsters in this room.

She shoves the power away, shoves it as hard as she can, a pulsing shockwave that rattles the foundation, and leaps from her stool, sprinting out the back door, run, run, run-

She makes it as far as the alley before she feels the Prince’s sun kissed whip around her throat, jerking her backwards like an animal, restraints wrapping around wrists and legs, forcing her to her knees.

Maybe if she begs, if she cries, they’ll let her go. They’ll spare her.

“It’s not me.” She croaks, flexing against the sun searing rope that stays taut around her neck. “You’ve made a mistake. Release me.”

“I don’t think so.” The Prince croons, smiling in a sick, sadistic way that turns her stomach. She rails against the binding, straining with everything inside of her, urging her power up through her pores, wings screaming beneath the sinew at her back. Shine, they cry. Shine and blow them all back to Faerie.

It’s no use. She’s no match for a single Fae in this world, let alone four of the most powerful, not with how weak she’s grown.

The Captain settles himself on the pavement, bending at the knees, still straight backed and proud, blue eyes meeting her head on. He’s not afraid, does not tremble, does not falter before her like the others who have tried to collect their bounty have.

“Fuck you.” She sniffs, turning her face away. The other three loom in the background, unmistakable now that they’ve dropped their Glamour.

The Ghost.

The Chaos.

The Prince.

The 141, in the flesh.

The Captain rises to his full height, motioning for the Ghost, some sort of magical bond sizzling through the air, communication that burns in the breeze on this cold winter’s night. “You’re in a lot of trouble, little angel. And so far from home, too.” He cocks his head, arms crossed across his chest, and she snarls, snapping her teeth.

“Keep your cretinous fucking hands off me.” She spits, and John Price only smiles, cupping her jaw in a wide, warm palm.

“No.”

#we love an enemies to lovers in this house #fae!au #fae!Price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price #peaches writes #I really just want to write fantasy books like a loser

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mwah-chia · 1 year

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been thinking about touchy aki and reader who are secretly dating?/more than co-workers or friends who he can’t keep his hands off even on the job (*^.^*)

aki hayakawa who is touchy as fuck when it comes to you. superior aki hayakawa, who has gone out after hours with you and some other co-workers, hitting up the local izakaya to enjoy a few rounds of beers and cheap food. touchy aki hayakawa, who after his fourth pint starts to stroke the plush of your thigh under the table, giving it the gentlest squeeze. he watches out of his peripheral, the way you laugh at something some irrelevant devil hunter has said from across the table and combs his fingers loosely through a piece of your hair to tuck it back behind your ear.

aki hayakawa who has been sent to retrieve a piece of the gun devil with the rest of the division four squad. he commands them forward, watching as they head off then suddenly groping the fat of your ass and giving it the smallest tap making you jump in surprise. ‘hurry up y/ln, don’t fall behind’ giving you a quick wink before leaving in the same direction as the rest of your fellow hunters. you stand there for a second to control the pink hue of blush across your cheeks before you can rush off.

aki hayakawa who is clenching his fist in an effort to restrain himself from pulling you by the waist into his side. he watches how (not-so-innocent) denji picks you up and onto his back after an unsuspecting devil ambushes your mission, striking your right leg as you pushed kobeni out of the way of its fury. aki hayakawa who is silently seething as he sees denji wrap his palms underneath your thighs to carry you out once the assignment is completed. he thinks he will spit into denji’s food later tonight once they and power are all back home, although he won’t.

aki hayakawa who comes to see you in the infirmary once the others have left. visiting hours be damned. in the privacy of the hospital room, he grabs your face in both hands to slam his lips against yours. ‘don’t you dare be so fucking reckless like that again’ a command that carries no vexation as it should, but instead spills out of his hot lips more broken like a desperate plea. ‘it’s okay aki, it only caught my leg’ .. ‘don’t be so worried’. he sits on the bed then, looping one arm around your waist and the other behind your head to pull you into his chest. aki hayakawa who can’t imagine not being within arms length of you, ‘how can i not when it’s you?’.

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strlingsav · 2 years

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hear me out: team 141& female reader go to the bar post successful mission, everyone's a lil too drunk, she makes a move on ghost but he's like "ok uve had too much" (I dnt think he's rly drunk tho) and he brings her back to his room to take care of her, but hes like wait "I've always wanted you" THEN THE HOT AND STEAMY STUFF *ofc it's all consensual*

Ohhhhhhh yes, right up my alley 👀

Always

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Your Lieutenant confesses his feelings.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

It wasn't your idea to go out; it was never anyone but Soap that always suggested a pint at the bar around the corner. A run-down dive bar across the street from the base, where every soldier knew it was the best place for cheap drinks and entertainment.

It was the kind of place that belonged to the coarse, gruff men that chain-smoked and didn't want to go home sober. The kind that kept their eyes on you as you wandered in, before turning their interest back to the beer in front of them.

You shared a table with the squad. You were a bit hesitant to join them after hearing the stories Soap told about the place. The time he nearly had a dart thrown in his chest during a drunken game, or when he'd lost a lot of money during a pool match. Nonetheless, you'd been convinced, citing something like, "one time can't hurt".

It was filled with cigarette smoke, classic-rock, and the heavy smell of beer. Price lit up a cigar, puffing on it from the far end of the table. He seemed to enjoy the music and beer, not paying much attention to the ongoing conversation between you. Gaz and Soap had been ragging on each other, Ghost joining in when he felt it necessary.

Soap was already a few drinks in, pressuring you to keep up with him. You could, and did, though you knew you'd have to walk back afterward and thoroughly regretted the three you'd already had.

Ghost sat beside you, a hand around his glass of bourbon, quietly surveying the conversation, chiming in with a scoff or witty comment about Soap's intelligence every so often.

"You are not a Scotsman," You shook your head, watching the drunken man nod his head along to the guitar and drums from the speakers.

"Piss off," He sneered. "What are you on about?"

"You can't hold your liquor," You said back, leaning forward with a smug grin.

"And you can? I'm drinkin' you under the table."

"We're even," You rolled your eyes, sitting back. "'Sides, I'm savouring it."

"Shite's gettin' warm in your hand!" He exclaimed.

You narrowed your eyes, shooting the last of your beer back.

"Let's do a few shots, then. And grab me another beer."

His eyes lit up, a smirk on his face. "Now you're talkin' kid." He shuffled out of his seat, stumbling every so slightly as he headed toward the bar.

"He won't stop 'til he's ahead of ya," Ghost said, leaning into your ear.

You shivered. The timbre of his voice in your ear brought goosebumps to the surface of your skin. Looking over at him, you furrowed your brows, inspecting his eyes. Dark and void, no flecks of any other colour to be seen. They were deep and mesmerizing, a black hole ready to suck you in. You noticed you'd been staring longer than normal, pursing your lips before shifting your gaze.

"I know," You were distracted now with the image of Soap, carrying four shot glasses filled with a mysterious liquid. "It's fun to see him try though."

"More entertainin' watchin' him act like a git."

You grinned.

Price then announced he was heading out, mumbling, "I ain't in the mood for watchin' you drunks all night."

You'd bid him good night, but not before trying to convince him to stay. He'd resigned himself to a night in, drinking his expensive liquor, puffing his cigar in the privacy of his own office. He left with a short goodbye, warning the rest of you not to get out of control.

Soap set the shots down, handing you yours with a polite smile.

"Think we should cheers," He said, sitting down. His speech was now obviously slurring. "To another fuckin' mission finished, and to gettin' back home, away from you fuckers."

You shrugged, colliding your glass with his, before tipping it back and letting it slide down your throat. You shut your eyes, swallowing harshly, nearly choking on the burn in your chest.

"Jesus," You were hoarse, a strangled sound leaving your lips. You recognized the flavour of the drink- vodka. "Nasty."

You sat back, your eyes scanning the bar. It was getting harder to see straight- ghost trails and lazy blinks disrupting your vision. A deep breath in did nothing to clear your head, but damn did it feel good.

"Here," He handed you the second.

You hadn't quite recovered from the first, still feeling it sitting in your throat. Your ribs shifted with a heavy inhale, desperately trying to swallow the liquid fire. Your eyes landed on Soap, an amused grin across his face, though you'd already gulped down the shot before he could say anything.

He chased his shot with the beer in front of him, a grimace across his face- the same as yours. It hit you within a few minutes, only exacerbating the way everything seemed to blur together.

It felt great. Fucking great, to drink, relax, unwind. Have fun, for the first time in months. Dress in something other than fatigues and twenty pounds of equipment. To shower and brush your teeth with running water. You'd finally de-tangled your hair, appreciated the sweet smell of deodorant, worn makeup. You were reminded of it by Gaz, when he commented that your face looked "different" from the usual.

Your head turned, catching Ghost's eyes on the way by, and you smiled softly. It was unintentional, nearly uncontrollable at this point in the evening. He averted his gaze.

You'd always thought highly of him, respected him. You had to. But the causal dress brought out a different side of him, a side that had a sense of humour and didn't mind listening to the back and forth between yourself and Soap. A side you wouldn't mind seeing more often. He wasn't just your Lieutenant now, and your drunken self had taken note of that.

You squinted, trying to imagine the face beneath the mask. His eyes were alluring on their own, and your cheeks flushed at the thought of just how handsome he probably was.

You'd let your guard down, after so long of denying the fact that you were attracted to him, you'd admitted it to yourself. You knew you were digging yourself into a hole, unsure how you'd function while working with him, how you'd ever leave the attraction behind and behave in a strictly professional manner.

It was more difficult to think about drunk than it was while sober. While sober, you could pretend his voice didn't awaken a thrumming in your chest, or that you definitely didn't like the way his fatigues fit his body. But drunk- it was a different story. You'd had your eyes all over him, uncaring and indifferent to whether he noticed or not.

It came with urgency, a giggle bubbling up before you could stop it. It was just another urge you couldn't quite hold in. You'd been studying him, and only when he turned to you, did you realize it. You'd been caught.

"What's funny?" He asked, raising a brow.

You waved your hand, trying to dismiss his question, nearly knocking your empty beer bottle off the table. You caught it with a clumsy hand, pushing it out of reach and clutching your full drink to your chest.

"Lightweight," Soap announced, the usual shit-eating grin on his face.

"Fuck off, Johnny."

"You're a mean drunk, kid."

"I'm not drunk." You noticed that your own speech was slurring now. Your mouth particularly difficult to control, short bursts of giggles exploding without warning. "Okay," You nodded slowly. "Just a bit."

Soap laughed, a loud, boisterous laugh that made you wince. He'd also indulged a bit too much, his cockiness making an unexpected appearance.

"Let's win us a game of pool," Soap said, turning to Gaz.

"I'm not giving you any money," Gaz answered, following close behind as the two made their way to the tables.

You sighed heavily, relishing in the feeling of not being in control. Letting go, falling into the drunken stupor you'd gotten yourself into. It was cathartic. Especially after a gruelling mission.

You turned your attention to Ghost, your head tilting up to look at him.

"Just you and me, Loot," You pursed your lips. "Tell me your war stories."

"Don't have any interesting enough." He took another sip, his lips wet with liquor. You could hardly tear your eyes away.

"Bullshit," You grinned.

He shrugged it off, licking the leftover liquid from his mouth. You'd see his lips before, seen the stubble that lined his chin. You knew he was handsome.

"You should take off the mask," You said, still very intrigued.

"Why's that?" He asked, his gaze flickering between your lips and eyes.

"You're handsome. Not sure why you hide it," You popped a cashew in your mouth from the communal bowl on the table.

"I know. That ain't why I wear it," He said. His eyes fell to the cashews in your hand. "Shouldn't eat those."

You stopped your chewing, furrowing your brows as you set the remaining cashews back in the bowl. He was right; by the looks of it they were old- you hadn't noticed with the blurry haze of liquor distorting your vision.

"Always looking out," You grinned sheepishly. "It's alright to take a night off."

"Not when you're pissed," He commented.

You scowled, "I'm not pissed- I'm tipsy. At the most, a bit drunk." Your tone was harsher than intended.

"You're pissed," He nodded.

"You're deflecting. We were talking about how handsome you are."

"No we weren't," He said, swallowing another gulp.

"Okay," You sighed. Admittedly, it was taking a lot of brain power to follow the conversation. "I was talking about it."

He nodded. "You usually so irritatin' when you're in the bag?"

"Are you usually such a prude?" You snapped.

He shook his head, hiding the grin on his lips with a sip from his glass. You were far too drunk to notice. You wondered if maybe you were a mean drunk, suddenly feeling irrationally guilty for talking to your lieutenant that way.

"I'm sorry," You sighed, desperately wanting to lay your head down on the table, bury your face in your arms and hide your embarrassment.

"It's nothin'." He looked amused.

"I'm sure you're not a prude," You said, eyes wide with concern.

"Far from it."

You raised your brows, suddenly intrigued. Sitting up straight, you shifted to face him entirely.

"I've never seen that side of you."

"No reason to."

"I mean," You swallowed the cold beer, setting it down before staring up at him with narrowed eyes. "I could give you a reason."

Your focus was unrelenting as you scanned his face, searching for any hint of an interested expression. He was unreadable- likely due to the liquor in your bloodstream- and it frustrated you. Now, deeply under the influence, you were irritated and aroused.

"Don't think you know what you're sayin'," His eyebrows dipped in, an unimpressed expression in his eyes.

He'd never seen you in your civilian clothes, or with lipstick on. His mouth had gone dry when he first saw you walk into the bar, not surprising given the tightness in his chest anytime you'd brush past him, compliment him, even say his name. It was unavoidable, especially now, watching you lean in, your inhibitions lowered.

He felt his blood run cold, warmth settling in his groin when your eyes lazily flipped over to look at him, your hand under your chin. You had a coy smile on your face, like you didn't know exactly what you did to him, and he'd be a damn liar if he didn't admit it turned him on even more.

"I know exactly what I'm saying." Your eyes narrowed at him, a short huff of amusement leaving your nose.

He wanted to believe it was true; he'd been around enough drunken soldiers to know that whatever was said usually had some truth to it. He just couldn't imagine a woman like yourself wanting to be attached to a person like him. You were too good; too righteous. Too loyal, trusting. Sometimes it drove him crazy, other times he cherished how much faith you put in him.

"Think you've had enough for the night."

He finished his drink, setting it down. He licked his lips.

"Maybe," You nodded.

Your head was fuzzy, and it was hard to see straight. Reasonably, you knew it was time to call it. You'd pay for it in the morning if you didn't.

"C'mon," He said, nodding his head, urging you to step out of the booth. "We'll head back to base."

You didn't fight him. Your hand reached the table for support as you stood up, missing the empty beer bottle by an inch. Ghost grabbed your arm, an innocent touch that your drunken state turned into something more; a premonition.

You turned back to look at him, a coy smile- even drunk, you were a bit embarrassed to be so clumsy in front of your Lieutenant.

Your arm wrapped around Ghost's as you headed out of the bar, discretely feeling the hard bicep that was hidden beneath the black jacket he was wearing. You squeezed gently, hoping he wouldn't feel your groping. He knew, he could feel your fingers moving, the heat of your palm over his arm. He couldn't help but look over at you, an expression of bliss on your face, eyes half shut.

You made small talk, the night air sobering you up a bit as you wandered across the street. The flickering streetlights made him look even more intimidating than usual, casting a shadow over his eyes, his tall form towering over you. You were aware now of just how close you were to him; you were surprised he'd let you hold his arm, but glad he did. You were somewhat afraid you'd wander off and end up sleeping in a ditch, but mostly you liked how warm he was, how good he felt under your hand.

You knew when he walked you inside that it wasn't the direction of your bunk.

"I'm over there," You pointed.

"You're stayin' with me," He said resolutely. "Can't have you chokin' on your own vomit."

You frowned, "Fair point."

As he let you into his quarters, you were overwhelmed with just how much it smelled like him. A bit of vanilla, cedar, cigarettes. It was almost suffocating, seeping into your senses until you were filled only by him. It was intimate, breathing the same air he lived in. He'd allowed you inside, allowed you to see his most personal space. You took a deep breath at the overwhelming revelation.

Your eyes scanned the room, cataloguing the belongings inside. There weren't many personal items; no photographs or books. Hardly any evidence that he lived there. It was barren, aside from the furniture. You knew him, knew he didn't live like you did. He didn't have family back home that waited for him with loving arms and smiles. He had no reason to frame photos of the people he had loved before.

You stood in the centre of the room, still taking in the environment, sobering up even more when he appeared with a T-shirt and water bottle in hand.

"Here," He said, holding them out to you.

"Is that yours?" You asked, looking over the T-shirt.

He nodded.

You were flustered now, the drunkenness having mostly worn off, your demeanour did a one-eighty once you realized where you'd ended up. Your Lieutenant's room, alone. It was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of, to confess to every single thing you'd ever thought about him. But you couldn't blame it on being drunk anymore, not when you could feel the embarrassment of what you'd said earlier, and mostly regretted it.

"Thank you."

"Y'can change in there," He nodded his head in the direction of the bathroom.

You did, discarding your jacket, shirt and pants. You slid the shirt over your head. It reached the middle of your thighs, a comical look that made you smile at yourself in the mirror. You chugged the water bottle and pulled your hair from your face before leaving the bathroom.

His eyes landed on you, his heart picking in his chest up when he saw you wearing nothing but his shirt. Relaxed, like you were home. It was undeniably arousing. Like you were branded, marked by him. He tried to ignore it, ignore the way your bare feet across his floor sounded so comforting, the way you so willingly wore his clothes, thought nothing of wearing your damn panties around him. He felt something primal clawing at his chest, scratching its way up his throat.

"How you feelin'?" He asked, settling for a nonchalant question, something innocent so you wouldn't suspect he was practically trembling with desire, to touch you- taste you. He took a seat in the chair across the room.

You stepped over to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

"Mostly sober," You breathed out, a small smile on your face. "Sorry, if I said anything out of line."

He nodded; no answer, a nerve-racking response on its own, but his eyes avoided yours. You pushed past the topic, not wanting to dwell on the actions of your drunken self.

"I can sleep on the floor, if you have an extra blanket?" You offered.

He shook his head, "Take the bed. Don't sleep much anyways."

"Why not?" You asked.

"Never have. Too much goin' on in my head."

"Stop thinking for once," You teased.

He inhaled, still slightly distracted by the sight of you, your bare thighs, the shirt inching up as you moved up the bed.

"If only," He replied.

"What keeps you up at night, L.T.?" You asked, a grin of amusement on your face.

You, he wanted to say. You, and your fucking smile. The cadence of your voice, the feeling in his gut he got whenever he felt you next to him, watched you when you weren't looking.

"Paperwork," He teased- though his face showed no evidence of a joke.

You were quiet for a minute, shifting your gaze around the room before returning to his eyes. You smiled, changing the topic again when you concluded he really didn't want to talk about it.

"Thanks for taking care of me tonight."

"You're my responsibility."

Your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach; had he felt responsible for you? Had he only let you cling to him out of obligation? Given you his shirt because it was his duty?

"Oh," You nodded. Your voice was weak, but you tried to hide your disappointment behind a small smile. "Always watching out."

"For you, yeah."

Your gaze narrowed. You wondered if you were still drunk, reading too much into his words, putting meaning where there was none. He sat forward in his seat, attentive, unwavering.

You tilted your head, hoping it would give you an alternative angle to follow, a new lead into the words he'd said. With no success, you leaned back on your hands, ready to interrogate him.

"You don't have to do that," You said, prodding for more. Something substantial, something tangible to sink your teeth into. Some ground to stand on so you could tell how he really felt. "Watch out for me all the time. Especially off duty."

"Can't help it," He said. It was quiet, almost unnoticeable except you'd seen his shoulders tense.

"Why?"

He stood to his feet, and your stomach lurched. He was slow, calculating in his steps, moving closer by the second.

"Think you know."

He stopped before you, his gaze so impenetrable you almost couldn't meet his eyes. His fingers reached up, his knuckles skimming the soft surface of your cheek. You shut your eyes, an inadvertent reaction to the rough feel of his fingers. Your skin was flushed, reddened with the rush of blood your heart was pushing to every nerve.

"Because I'm a liability?" You teased, desperately wanting to ease the tension, to appear unaffected by his words, even though your arms had weakened, every bone turning to liquid inside you. You struggled to keep his gaze, to hold yourself up when he was so domineering, standing tall above you.

His eyes honed in on your lips, giving a small shake of his head. "'Cause I've always wanted you."

You inhaled deeply. It stunned you, to say the least. You'd never seen any hint of attraction from him. He was stoic and unreadable, always. But now, he bore his soul to you. Extending an offer that you were too weak to decline. The room stood still, soft exhales and invisible strain sitting in the air.

You finally met his gaze, cheeks tinged red, an exhale of relief. It was a weight off your shoulders, not having to hide anymore. Knowing he felt exactly the same.

"You've always had me, Lieutenant." You stood to your feet, your head barely meeting his shoulder, but you felt powerful, invigorated with a rush of desire.

He hummed, short, acknowledging, satisfied.

His hand moved from the apple of your cheek to the curve of your waist. His hold was strong and warm, comforting, in a way that made you shiver. A twitch in your body made him chuckle, a deep and inviting sound, that offered no relief of the chill running through your spine.

You couldn't count how many times you'd wished he'd touch you. Intentionally or not, you didn't care, you craved it. You craved the sensation, the heavy pour of molten heat that settled in every bone. The ache between your thighs, never satiated by your own hands, leaving your body to the mercy of your mind, begging and pleading for relief by some measure.

"You still drunk?" He asked, quiet and low.

You shook your head, eyes piercing his gaze with ferocity, a never ending commitment. You couldn't be drunk; not with how obvious it was that his hand was on your waist, clinging to you tightly like he'd lose you if he didn't. Your senses were sharper than they'd ever been, especially with him standing before you.

He pulled the fabric of his mask over his head, freeing his face before you. It was a sight to behold, a moment you wanted to seal in your mind and look back on for years to come. You couldn't help your teeth chewing at your lip, biting back the urge to stand on your toes and kiss him, kiss the lips you'd seen a handful of times but never complemented by his other features. He was handsome. Even more than you'd imagined; a composite of Adonis, embodiment of Ares.

He did your bidding for you, leaning over your shorter frame to bring his lips closer to yours. He waited a moment, wanting to be sure you knew exactly what he intended, what he wanted. You grew tired of the torment, and met him halfway.

He groaned; low and harsh. He absolved you of any responsibility, taking over as he tugged you into his chest. He was a towering figure above you, your neck aching as you reached up to meet his mouth. Your hands lifted to his waist, a gentle hold, still apprehensive. You'd never touched him before, never been able to glide your hands across his sides and envelop him in your arms. It felt right.

In response, his palm reached your cheek, fingers splaying out over your jaw. It was a bit rougher, more motivated. He slipped his tongue in your mouth at the same time, his heavy exhales fanning across your face. He was warm, feverish against you, his body entirely consumed with greed.

He tasted sweet, like caramel and the bitter aftertaste of alcohol still on his tongue. You hummed softly against his mouth, relishing in the moment; your bodies pressed together, lips connected fervidly, hands exploring the expanse of his torso. Your fingers slid down his abdomen, and he pulled back, still holding onto you.

"Y'look good in my shirt."

A slow, smug smile spread over your lips. "Shame you'll have to take it off me," You whispered.

You stood on your toes, pressing your lips to his again. It was an addictive rush, every time you felt the way he pulled you in, the softness in his lips.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, slowly crawling over you to pin you beneath him on the bed, pure desire between your thighs, flames flickering inside you when his gaze lowered.

You pulled the jacket off his shoulders, hands lifting his T-shirt over his head. Your eyes dropped to his stomach, breathing in the muscles lining his navel, the trail of coarse hair disappearing under his jeans, the marks and scars across his entire torso. Your hands inadvertently reached out, tracing every line and contour, his head falling down at your gentle touch.

You pulled his belt open, before he took his time lifting his T-shirt up off your body, watching with uninterrupted focus, taking in every bare inch he could see until you were left nude before him.

"Fuckin' beautiful," He whispered, his lips beside your ear, moving to leave soft kisses against your neck.

Your jugular pounded in your throat, his silken tongue finding your pulse and biting down softly. You whimpered, pulling yourself closer to him as he scattered kisses over your neck and chest. His hands engulfed your breasts, warmth erupting over your body when he left wet kisses over your nipples, a flat tongue following.

"Yes, please," You exhaled, your back arching into him.

He laid down beside you, a smooth transition when your hand on his chest pushed him back against the pillows. You climbed over his lap while he gripped your hips, staring up at you as you rocked over the bulge in his jeans.

He grunted, quickly yanking his waistband and briefs down. His cock lifted from the restraints, painfully erect, the size a bit intimidating but you'd never given up from a challenge. You leaned forward, sliding your panties aside, helping him to press the tip of his cock against your entrance, before you sat back down.

His cock slowly inched inside, an uncomfortable stretch, but you were already so aroused it quickly dissipated when your hips moved forward. He stretched his neck back, pressing into the pillows; your pussy was drenched, with soft, velvet walls that squeezed around him. He gritted his teeth.

"So big, Lieutenant," You exhaled, a guttural sound as you appreciated just how much he filled you.

"No Lieutenant shite," He groaned. "Simon-" He gulped. "Say my name, love."

You leaned over him, resting your hands against the pillows while his hands slid up to your waist. You craned your neck down to press your lips against his, your pussy gliding up and down his cock while his hands guided you.

It was a haze-inducing sight; your lips wide with pleasure, panting softly every time his cock would massage your walls, graze your clit.

"You feel good, sweetheart," He grumbled against your neck. "Fuckin' hell- that's good."

"Yes- fuck," You watched his eyes, the way he'd furrow his brows in an attempt to digest just how good you felt wrapped around him.

His free hand massaged your breasts, grabbing and palming the soft tissue as you thrust your hips against his.

"God, Simon."

"Been waitin' to hear you say my name like that," He said.

You shivered on his cock, your pussy clenching down with appreciation for his words.

You moved forward, your hips working to grind against him, to push his cock inside you, falling back with heavy exhales.

He couldn't handle the slow pace, couldn't handle the restriction- how he couldn't bury himself inside you. He flipped your bodies over, realigning himself with your pussy before diving back inside.

You groaned, clinging to his shoulders, your thighs immediately wrapping around his waist, trembling.

"Lie back," He grunted, his hips rolling against yours. "Lie back and let me take care of you, love."

Your lips parted, a satisfied moan escaping. Your hands reached his hair, fingers digging into his scalp as he thrust his cock inside you, the sounds of your well-lubricated pussy echoing around the room.

He muffled your moans with his lips, panting heavily after pulling away.

"So deep," You mumbled, "Fuck you're so deep, just like that, please."

"Like hearin' you beg, sweetheart," Another grunt.

His fingers reached down to your clit, rubbing side to side in a way that made your abdomen tense. He felt the clench of your pussy around him, letting out a low gasp against your skin.

"Christ, I dreamt about fuckin' you. Havin' you just like this."

"Simon," You whispered.

His hand gripped your thigh, angling it to penetrate deeper inside you.

"Who's this cunt belong to?" Sweat lined his brow, his fingers still moving in circles on your clit.

"Fuck," You squeezed your eyes shut, savouring just how fucking good it felt, the stimulation was enough to have you writhing beneath him, your body begging for an orgasm. "You, shit- 's all yours."

"That's my girl," He grumbled, plunging his cock inside you with even more speed now, triggering waves of pleasure that engulfed your entire body, had you moaning so loudly he covered your mouth with his hand.

"Fuck," He swore, listening to the muffled sounds of pleasure escaping your mouth. "Fuckin' hell. Let it out. I've got you."

You whimpered and whined, his cock driving into you, extending your orgasm. Your eyes rolled back, nostrils flaring as you tried to catch your breath, your thighs and fingers squeezing relentlessly against him.

He had a difficult time holding back; he so badly wanted to hear every single moan and cry that left your lips, but knew the walls were thin. He wouldn't live with himself if anyone found out, if you'd take the brunt of the relentless torment that would surely follow.

He removed his hand when he was sure you'd recovered, so close to his own release he almost didn't have time to tell you. You could read his face, see the expression of pain and pleasure.

"Wherever," You breathed. "Wherever you want."

Your words pushed him past the edge, and his hips stuttered, pressing flush against yours as he released inside you, his cock twitching with every burst.

He sucked in a harsh breath, head tilting up to stare at the ceiling. He thrusted lazily a few more times, before gently falling next to you. A few moments passed, deep breaths and contentment in the air.

"What's in your head now?" You asked, turning on your side.

He nearly smiled, "All clear, sweetheart."

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #simon riley #strlingsavwrites #ask strlingsav

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blouisparadise · 2 months

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Coming Home | Explicit | 2,605 words

It’s coming home, one way or another.

2) Intoxicated | Mature | 4,611 words

In which Louis opens a bar and Harry quickly becomes a regular.

3) Rosas | General Audiences | 4,774 words

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are friends until they are not.

4) Babydoll | Explicit | 4,775 words

Married to one of the most powerful men in the Mafia, Louis feels nothing but loneliness and dissatisfaction. Lucky for him, his security guard is there to fill the void. Literally.

5) Kiss Me, Don’t Let Go | Not Rated | 6,147 words

Harry turns around, and as soon as he does, he’s met with the most beautiful blue eyes he has ever seen. He doesn’t know why or how, but he finds himself walking towards the sweet vanilla scent that is filling all his senses and making him feel dizzy. “Hey, do you mind if I sit here while I wait for a table to clear up?”

6) Couldn't Forget You If I Tried | Explicit | 7,064 words

“What if he’s ugly?” Zayn leans in the doorway to the living room, raising an eyebrow and fixing Louis with a perplexed gaze. “Then you’ll call me and get me out of it,” Louis attempts a shrug as best as he can with the couch cushions laid out around him. Louis smirks, “I’m going to text him back.” Louis sits up, his eyebrows pull together, and he crafts a perfectly worded text back to the mysterious man he’s been texting with vaguely throughout the week. He writes: "7 is perfect. See you then. x" “I’m not bailing you out of this one. If he’s ugly and boring and terrible you’re just going to have to deal with it,” Zayn shakes his head and crosses his arms, his signal that the conversation is well and truly done. Louis doesn’t mind. He’s got a date.

7) If I Know What Love Is, It's Because Of You | Mature | 7,343 words

Larry sneaks off while filming 'this is us' to go skinny dipping. Leads to extracurricular activities.

8) Finally Free | Explicit | 7,044 words

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry and Louis are room mates studying Psychology at university. They have just finished their final year and are on a pub crawl celebrating. Harry leaves the pub crawl early and Louis leaves with Eleanor, but when they get to the next pub Louis has had enough and dumps Eleanor and runs home to look for Harry and accidentally walks in on Harry stroking his cock and moaning Louis’ name. he smiles, walks to Harry... and then they shag!

9) Whatever Words I Say, However Long I Stay | Not Rated | 7,640 words

Louis is an actor, Harry is his soon to be ex husband's lawyer. There are a lot of things that can go wrong.

10) My Spiteful Ballerina | Mature | 7,809 words

Four times Harry wanted an explanation of Louis' hatred toward him, and one time Louis gives in, in Louis' fashion.

11) Only You Can Set My Heart On Fire | Explicit |9,164 words

Louis fights with management and storms off. Harry comes back and takes care of him. As louis gets lower, Harry becomes more dominant, changing the dynamics of their relationship going forward.

12) Bro To Hoe | Explicit | 9,395 words

The progression of Harry turning Louis into a ‘sissy’. When they first meet, Louis is very much one of the ‘lads’ with his facial hair and tracksuits downing pints of beer and making out with his girlfriend. But when Louis and his girlfriend break up, Harry decides to shoot his shot. Under his instruction and influence, the once ‘straight’ Louis Tomlinson becomes an effeminate pantie-clad bottom desperate to be stuffed full of Harry’s big fat cock.

13) Something ‘Bout You Makes Me Wanna Do Things That I Shouldn't | Explicit | 12,212 words

Note: this is the sequel to this fic.

Harry is infatuated with Louis, and now he found a new way to stalk him. He is still far away from him, but will that stop him from making the boy his?

14) Little Loon, To Love is to Obey | Explicit | 13,742 words

“Checkmate.” Louis grinned like a Cheshire cat that got the cream, relishing the sight of a flustered officer in front of him. He knocked down his opponent's chess piece, savouring the delicious sight of the officer's face contorting with exasperation, anger, and defeat. Louis knew he had won. A story about love, loyalty and indulgence.

15) If Control is My Religion… | Explicit | 14,000 words

“So just to recap, you’ve been vomiting every single morning, and then you seem to be fine for the rest of the day?” Louis nods. “Except for yesterday when Liam was eating a tuna sandwich after practice and it smelled vile. Who the hell even likes tuna sandwiches?” Niall sighs in the way that a disappointed parent might. “Louis, please don’t take this in the wrong way, because I’m not judging you at all. But is there any possibility that you’re pregnant?” Louis scoffs. Technically, it is possible. Louis’ known he was a male carrier since his routine physical when he was sixteen. But it isn’t actually possible, not really. He and Harry always use a condom. Except for that one day a few weeks ago when Louis had forgotten to buy more and they couldn’t wait. And the time the week before that when the condom had broke, but they both figured it was probably fine. Shit.

16) Love Is A Verb | Mature | 15,602 words

What happens when two strangers end up booking a weekend getaway at a cabin that's been double booked?

17) Does It Make You Feel Alive | Mature | 16,715 words

“Hello Mr. Tomlinson, I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you” Harry walks towards Louis with an outstretched hand. Louis takes his hand and gives him a firm handshake, offering a polite smile. “Please just call me Louis, it’s nice to meet you as well Harry. Although under different circumstances, it would have been nice I suppose” Louis grunts slightly in pain as he chuckles. Harry frowns and sets down his bag, kneeling in front of Louis. “How about we get you that shot huh? Seems like you're in a lot of pain” Harry opens his bag and begins to rifle through it in search of the needed materials.

18) Behind The Scenes Of Us | Not Rated | 16,774 words

A day in the life of vlogger Louis, hockey player Harry, and their son, Oscar.

19) Smooth Like Chocolate | Explicit | 17,609 words

Omega Louis babysits Alpha Harry’s little siblings. Harry comes home from uni break to see this pretty omega baking cookies in his family home.

20) It's Coming Home | Explicit | 20,649 words

Louis arrives at the Euro final, full of anticipation for a night of celebration, camaraderie, and indulgence. As England faces off against Spain, he is ready to enjoy the game, relish the company of his friends, and perhaps let loose with a few drinks. The atmosphere in the VIP area is electrifying, and Louis is in high spirits, revelling in the opulence of the exclusive event. However, his world is turned upside down when a familiar, unmistakable laughter reaches his ears from the crowd. In that split second, a tidal wave of emotions crashes over him—fear, shock, anger, and frustration.

21) Beautiful, Dirty, Rich | Explicit | 23,534 words

Later that night, Louis arrived home and screamed into his pillow when he flopped onto his mattress. This prompted Niall to appear in the doorway with a concerned look on his face. A beer was being nursed carefully in his hand, blue eyes glassy from the booze. “Um… Are you okay?” It came out quietly like he was scared of spooking Louis. Louis dramatically flipped over to stare at his roommate, “I met the love of my life at work, but he’s a club member so it’s forbidden.” He whined loudly, jutting his bottom lip out in faux distress. “Shit Lou, you had me worried. Thought someone died or something,” The boy groaned, strolling over to plop himself onto the mattress, “So, tell me about this guy you wanna fuck.” “Ni he’s the sexiest person I’ve ever met. I want to be his trophy wife he shows off, and have all his babies, and be at his beck and call twenty-four seven,” All he received in return was an unimpressed stare, his friend rolling his eyes at the antics.

22) Bitter Ends Turn Sweet | Explicit | 27,134 words

Louis is an omega who's just completed his criminal justice degree and hoping to get into the alpha-dominated field of police work. He's spent four years hiding his secondary gender in fear that he'll not be taken seriously, or worse, not be able to continue with his chosen career path. After his summer internship is complete, he has plans to move to a more progressive city, where his secondary gender won't be an issue. He goes home to finally relax and spend the last summer with his mother and sisters before he moves and finds that his younger sister has a new best friend - a gorgeous alpha named Harry. With the singer-songwriter alpha in the house hanging around all summer long, Louis has to work even harder to keep his secondary gender hidden, which means drastic measures have to be taken. It certainly doesn't help that Harry is friendly, flirtatious, and extremely tactile...

23) Alone Together | Explicit | 28,320 words

Alpha Harry moves to Oslo, Norway and is perfectly content being mostly alone in a strange foreign land where he barely speaks the language, until a certain skittish blue-eyed boy seeks refuge in his video rental store. Almost immediately, Harry feels connected and protective over him. So what choice does he have when the boy drops other than to take him home and nurse him back to health?

24) About You | Explicit | 38,694 words

Streamer Louis and Harry have been friends for four years (except Louis has no idea what Harry looks like) when he finally surprises Harry by flying to LA for his birthday. They're best friends, they've always been best friends, but living together proves that maybe they've always been a little more than that as well.

25) Coração Selvage | Not Rated | 50,124 words

Louis keeps his eyes on the Wolf, careful about every movement he makes. He keeps his head tilted, deliberately showing the right side of his neck; the mating gland is on the other side, but this still shows he’s not a threat. Zayn answers at the third ring. “Lou?” he asks, confusion seeping into his voice. “Zed,” Louis says quietly, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible. “Zed, I’ve found Harry. He’s feral.”

26) All I've Ever Known | Not Rated | 85,738 words

“H-harry, I-I can’t” Louis put his empty cup on the coffee table and sighed, “I just don’t want to get into it yeah? Why can’t we just catch up, then you go your way, I’ll go mine and we can pretend that all is well and not have this conversation?” He sighed in defeat, he did not want Harry to make him feel, well anything ever again. He knew that talking about them, their relationship, would bring back all those feelings again and he would have to do something about it.

27) Invisible Strings | Explicit | 102,431 words

Louis has been struggling with his social anxiety for years now and is completely content with not leaving the house and having no social contacts. It gives him peace and safety. But when his new delivery guy, Harry, wants to get to know him Louis just can't resist. Together, they find new, creative ways to communicate despite his anxiety. Soon their connection deepens and Louis doesn't want his protected life anymore and instead tries to fight his social anxiety for the first time in years. But how can you change what became your personality over the years? And how can you feel safe again in a world that showed you exactly how dangerous it is outside? A story about finding your inner strength, healing and love that fights all odds.

28) Put A Little Love On Me | Explicit | 105,348 words

Louis is a YouTuber who tells true crime stories, driven by a desire to spread awareness of the horrors happening in the world. Harry, always cynical and annoying to everyone around him, is a detective assigned a case that forces him, against his will, to deal with a person he deeply despises. As their worlds inevitably collide, both are forced to confront themselves and the other person. And neither of them ever thought that something as frightening as what they both have to deal with would end up being the best thing they could find, between the purring of a kitten and the shared warmth under a blanket.

29) Part Time Lover (Shattering Your Illusions Of Love) | Not Rated | 108,174 words

They never warn you about how unexpected finding your soulmate can be. In fact, they only talk about how good and magical it is to have a life shared with this miracle. All the problems you have ever had in life disappear after you exchange your first look with the person assigned by the Universe to you. They never talk about how the people around you act about these soulmates — how they act strange or super excited… It's not practical to have a soulmate or to live with a destined couple. Harry was struck by the presence of his soulmate enough to not accept or be extremely happy about it, and it took a while to understand its importance. Both Louis and Nathan were affected by the influence of soulmates in their lives, but Louis chose one path and Nathan another. Louis was fine with never being involved with anyone like that, and Nathan longed for true love. The three become a clear example of how the Universe should stop interfering with worldly concerns.

30) Streetlights In The Dark Blue | Mature | 120,867 words

Louis Tomlinson is an investigative journalist. He's spent the better part of his life researching the psyches of serial killers, and publishing articles to provide a deeper understanding into their methodologies. His pen-name, Orion, is well known around the globe. An alter-ego that keeps his pockets lined, and his identity private. That is, until a letter arrives at his home address. A letter containing a symbol. One dubbed by a serial killer who'd vanished three years prior. The postage stamp? Bainbridge Island. He'd spent so long peering into the darkness, it should be no surprise to discover that something had been looking back. The island presents a host of mysteries. It also houses a nosy witch, determined to break down his walls. And an FBI agent hellbent on shattering his carefully constructed world.

31) Siren Calls Me Home | Explicit | 133,762 words

Harry’s father had warned him. King Edward of Erendor had whispered his suspicions that Prince Louis of Blackmont was descended from the sirens, monsters from cautionary tales Harry was told as a child. A cruel, cold-hearted, and vicious nature wreathed in a breathtaking exterior, with coy smirks and slow blinks used to bend everyone to his will. His beauty was as well known as his cunning, his greed, and his ruthless grab for power. Time only proved the rumors to be true, and Harry made sure to keep his distance from the prince, never once speaking to him, and doing his best not to even meet his eye. Unfortunately, the ghosts of whispered warnings are powerless when one is up against the very tangible experience of being in Prince Louis’ presence.

32) Prisoner | Explicit | 140,445 words

When Louis Tomlinson heard the jury's verdict, the world crumbled before his glassy blue eyes. Sentenced to five years in prison for a medical malpractice he did not commit, he was transferred to a maximum security prison. His days were numbered, he knew. Harry Styles, his cellmate and the monarch of the prison. Sadist like no other. The fumes coming out of his mouth were pure, bitter, flaming poison. Louis swallowed, certain it would be the last time he would ever do so. His body convulsed and his legs felt tremulous. He could have peed himself from the fear. "When I asked for a cellmate to have fun with, I didn't imagine they'd bring me a little lamb." If God had created Adam, the devil had created Harry.

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