#he can pretend to be happy like it’s all over and like they’re just one normal family | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

makoodles · 1 year ago

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

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

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

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

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That should be it.

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

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

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

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

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have tougher targets to tackle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kid–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

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

“No!” You blurt.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.”

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

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well. Okay, then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You squeak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you’ve a moment, love?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily –

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face.

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him.

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs.

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy.

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious.

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering.

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy.

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static.

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent.

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside.

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you.

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him.

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in.

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much.

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today.

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach.

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness.

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest.

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him.

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

#PLEASE don't look at me right now i will be taking NO questions on my state of mind #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john price smut #cod smut #cod fic #141 x reader #daddy issues price

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not-neverland06 · 4 months ago

Note

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him.

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned.

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out.

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much. “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling.

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing.

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much.

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted.

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be.

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover.

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark.

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack.

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.”

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you.

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified.

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do.

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up.

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you.

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her.

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both.

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it.

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through.

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it.

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground.

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat.

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest.

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand.

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look.

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings.

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped.

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott.

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at.

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black.

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you.

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple.

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage.

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged.

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?”

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you.

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation.

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant.

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time.

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice.

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott.

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most.

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand.

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens.

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior.

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated.

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him.

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him.

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you.

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire.

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams.

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead.

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you.

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess.

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off.

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense.

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal.

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag.

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you.

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip.

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you.

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known.

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions.

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him.

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad.

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern.

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue.

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room.

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off.

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby.

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another.

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up.

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought.

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all.

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest.

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to.

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her.

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him.

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you.

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him.

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him.

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long.

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again.

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire.

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated.

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes.

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye.

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you.

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow.

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position.

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt.

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared.

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at.

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever.

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor.

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain.

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere.

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had.

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea.

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said.

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love.

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him.

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up.

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order.

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held.

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants.

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him.

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips.

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you.

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass.

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl ♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #x men #x men x reader #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman x reader #anon

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 2 years ago

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,�� Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse x reader #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #marvel

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elodieunderglass · 6 months ago

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hi! i was just wondering if you’re getting a piece of this pie. https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/voidrealmminis/rise-of-the-eldertubbies?ref=profile_saved_projects_live

Oh my goodness! Haha thanks for showing me! And no, of course, this guy is still selling my dream while claiming it’s totally nothing to do with me. I hadn’t heard about it so thank you.

For those just joining us, here is the saga of the elder teletubbies:

1. in 2017 I posted a dream I had on Tumblr. In the dream I discovered that the childish teletubbies shown on BBC’s Teletubbies are merely the children of a species that grows up to be forest cryptids as adults. The post contained a detailed character description explaining how the children’s simple antennae become more complex antlers; their coats become thicker hair; their eldritch screens are unknowable; here, look:

The adult Teletubbies have more branching, complex antlers and shaggy coats. They are less brightly coloured. They are terrifyingly large. Their strangely human faces, emerging from the thick fur, are unquestionably adult; remote, serene, reproachful. Their television screens are glitchy, esoteric and unknowable. They are cryptids whose public exploitation has undermined their rarity and their strange, alien dignity.

That’s a pretty clear description.

2. The post quickly gained attention and many people drew art, made sculptures, designed in-depth character concepts, and even made DnD character sheets and entries with detailed notes. It was 2017. The post got over 90k notes. It had an extremely clear description of the cryptid in it. This wasn’t at all obscure.

3. The post and four pieces of the concept art, including the first piece by were screencapped and posted on r/tumblr. The post included this art by the now-deactivated @finoliatav which is, I think, the first piece of art. Most screencaps don’t show that it’s animated! Once you see it you can no longer pretend that any more work needs to be done in designing these characters, really - they’re all variations on a very clear theme.

4. A guy called Jars started drawing the BBC Teletubbies as adult Teletubbies. He noted on Reddit that his inspiration for the first one was the r/tumblr post but after that, he considered it entirely his own creative work. He drew each of the 4 BBC Teletubbies as adults using my character description and wrote a little story about how his character had stumbled upon them in the woods. He’s a good artist and his work went viral on Reddit and instagram. Those places being separate from Tumblr by the walls of the enclosure, they quickly believed the Jars was being highly original and praised him for it.

5. jars got carried away by his fame and started merchandising for all he’s worth. He’s selling elder teletubbies placemats. He got a collaborator to help him make and sell plushies.

6. Plushies of my character design applied to BBC characters. Jars sells them. To people. Who buy them. He sells these.

7. I think this is like… his job.

8. It has been years of this. I don’t think he has actually come up with anything else to sell by himself. But given that he now has millions upon millions of views on platforms I don’t use, let alone dominate (Instagram, YouTube, Reddit, TikTok) he seems to have fully subscribed to the idea that this is his THING.

9. After a while I wrote him a friendly email expressing that since my original dream was very much about discomfort with how the teletubbies were being exploited, I didn’t mind him selling his own art but that I wasn’t happy with him selling plushes based on my writing.

10. He wrote back along the lines of it all being his original intellectual property and absolutely nothing to do with me, etc, so jog on and don’t interfere.

11. I’m not entirely sure where the original intellectual property is when taking BBC characters and drawing them according to someone else’s detailed description of how to “evolve” them (branching antlers, shaggy coats, eldritch screens, serene adult human faces) especially having drawn them after seeing four separate detailed reference photos to base your own drawings on; especially when they’re the existing BBC characters from the show and not even your own. Like, Jars, you were given an entire detailed brief, several sets of references, an entire concept and a television show: the only artistic choices made here were to pick up your own personal pen and do the drawing. You have never deviated from my description, which you did not come up with yourself in any way. But okay Jars. You did some real intellectual heavy lifting here, this is Intellectual Property suddenly, and I guess this is your day job!

12. I myself actually have a day job, am capable of generating lots of other original material just for funsies, have never asked you guys for money, and I’m not generally huge jerk I don’t think. Also, I’m uncomfortable but have never been clear on how to stop him - I don’t think I can. So I don’t do much about this, apart from occasionally scream with hilarity with you guys about it.

13. Like this is the opposite of Goncharov. This is a guy making his wage on a 2017 tumblr collaborative shitpost insisting that this is the beautiful fruit of his only brain. And millions of people believe him.

14. There are now YouTube documentaries with millions of views and TikTok lore about Jars, and his lore, the Elder Teletubbies, which apparently he invented. People are making their wage talking about the history of Jars and his teletubbies lore. These documentaries are, if you can’t tell, not especially well-researched, as it is not difficult to find the original elder teletubbies art on the internet, which is all timestamped. Occasionally hilarious people from Tumblr point this out in the comments (thank you, you guys are hilarious) but the juggernaut is unstoppable!

15. Jars is now, apparently, doing a kickstarter to raise money for some kind of DnD sheets using the grown up BBC teletubbies.

16. I will point out that tumblr made and played with DnD teletubbies in 2017 for free and nobody had to pay $3000, but again. The juggernaut is unstoppable.

I have never, ever known what to do about this guy.

I have always been open to advice but genuinely never been able to articulate how it “damages” me, apart from ethical discomfort about how much I hate my writing being monetised by other people, especially when it was about my discomfort with exploitation. The juggernaut is unstoppable though. He fully intends to get thousands of dollars from this. He almost certainly will!

#adult Teletubbies #elder teletubbies #teletubbies

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sooniebby · 6 months ago

Note

hello, if you still take requests, please hear me out

reader is roommates with a guy. a rather hot guy, to be honest

reader is in denial whenever someone asks if he's attracted to his roommate, but it's obvious he is, he can't take his eyes off him... taking quick looks at his crotch...

anyways, unfortunately the room only has one bed, in which they sleep on together. normally, they sleep each on each side of the bed, but tonight, roommate hugs reader from behind, sleeping spooning

reader won't admit, but he's sooo horny. he just lowers his hand and starts jerking off right there and then, careful not to wake roommate up

little does he know his roommate was just pretending to be asleep and is well sure of what he's doing. now, roommate will show reader what he's made of

would you mind writing something like this?

ఌ 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

W.C › 9.2k

Warnings › this is a random oc. Bottom male reader!!! Changed a few parts of the plot and added kinks since there wasn’t any. Get ready for me using song lyrics, just for a little bit. Anything not translated will be translated at the ending notes. if I have any Korean wrong correct me! I appreciate feedback, I’m not fluent!

Kinks › dubcon, lite somnophilia, dom/sub, manhandling, predator/prey, size difference, blood, possessiveness, dacryphilia

Words to know › 자기야 (jagiya/jagi) means “baby/sweetie”. 선배 (seonbae) title for someone older in school/work. 형 (hyung/hyeong) name for older male from a younger male. 아/야 (a/ya) showing closeness to someone. 동생 (Dongsaeng) little brother/sister, doesn’t have to be a biological sibling/can be a friend.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

❝ 김진우 ❞

Those words were practically all that you heard these days. You know, when you originally came to this university, you had big plans. Plans to date as much as possible. Finally lose your virginity!

But they’re nothing important compared to who you unfortunately got paired to dorm with.

Kim Jinu.

A third year at your university. You felt bitter, to say the least. Of course you would have to unlucky chance of being paired with an upperclassman than another freshman. Gah, you wanted to cry.

Anyone that came up to you was always asking about Mister Kim Jinu! What about you?! You were handsome too!

Well, you were a potato next to Jinu.

The Korean beauty standards just had to pick favorites.

A slow soft sigh left your lips as you stared at your empty screen in front of you. Your fingers twiddled with your pen before you leaned over and pressed it against the screen, attempting to finish the outline of your sketch. You were an art major, dreaming of being an animator or even a comic book artist.

Much to your parents dismay. You haven’t had your mother’s signature kimchi in almost two months now due to your choice. But you tried not to dwell on it! You wanted to be happy.

And if being a starving artist is the only way, so be it!

Speaking of starving….

Your stomach growled as you whined and tossed the pen onto the desk, lying back in your chair as you swirled around. You’d have better luck being a Kpop idol at this point. Maybe it’s not too late. Who doesn’t like a filler member?

You glance in the small circle mirror resting on your desk and probe at your cheeks. Plastic surgery isn’t too much, right? Maybe a slimmer nose? Double eyelids?

“(Name) Oppa..? What are you doing?”

A shriek left your lips as you looked back at Cho Yoona, your classmate. A tight smile pulled on your lips as you took the iced coffee she had in her hands.

“Nothing, nothing. Oppa is just having a mental breakdown.” You said, quickly taking a sip of your coffee to gain some energy back.

Yoona grabbed a chair and pulled it close to your desk, sitting down next to you. “Hm. What are you doing now?”

“Ah? Well, the theme was something out of our comfort zone, so I was trying to create… uh… nude portraits..”

“Huh? Nude? Will Professor Lee Hyunki approve that?”

You shrugged, placing the coffee down onto the desk. “I have a backup plan. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him anyway.” A groan left your throat as you saved your draft before shutting off your computer. “Anyway, let’s go. It’s getting late.”

As you and Yoona packed up, she suddenly looked over to you with a big smirk.

“Oppa… are you… close to Kim Jinu Seonbae?” She asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“No.” You quickly said, rolling your eyes. “We’re just roommates. Not close at all.”

“Oh.” She muttered, pouting. “You’re lucky, Oppa. You get to be so close to Jinu Seonbae. Isn’t he handsome up close?” She squealed, clutching her notebook tight against her chest. “I’d die if I get to see him right after he takes a shower!!!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” You muttered, playfully flicking her forehead. The two of you left the classroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.

Once Yoona went her own separate way to her own dorms, you couldn’t help but think about what she said. Jinu… in just a towel..?

You heaved as you accidentally swallowed your coffee a bit too fast, pounding at your chest once you finally reached your dorm. Your hands fiddle with your keys while you fight off the harsh coughing burning at your chest. The door swings open as you struggle inside, slamming the door behind you.

Tossing your bag onto your side of the room, you make a beeline for the mini fridge and pull out a water bottle, downing it in seconds. As the cool refreshment calmed the coughing beast within you, you suddenly realized you weren’t holding your coffee anymore.

Your eyes trailed down to see it lying spilled on the floor not too far from your feet.

And unfortunately, it spilled right on a stake of papers near Jinu’s backpack. A shrill girlish scream right of a horror movie leaves your throat as you collapse to your knees and pick up the coffee cup, seeing the damage.

Your fingers felt numb as they slowly peeled the notebook open, seeing the pages stuck together like glue. The once white sheets dark in black, ice cubes coating it like sprinkles. Holy fuck.

Fuck fuck.

Jinu was going to kill you!

With the coffee coating the paper, you could hardly read what was written in it. But judging from the top cover, it looked to be a study guide or something.

Your eyes squinted as you tried to read what you could in hopes of gaging just how bad you fucked up. The words that you could only read were: “바보…토끼…자기…”

What the fuck?

Idiot, rabbit, babe?

What the hell was Jinu writing about?

Jinu was a business major. You couldn’t recall him taking any classes dealing with animals. Maybe it was a code word? Well, all that mattered was that it didn’t seem too important so you quickly grabbed the notebook. Drying it with a hair dryer seemed like your safest bet.

The room door opened, catching your attention as you shoved the notebook behind your back. There stood Jinu, obviously waving bye to someone before finally looking into the room. His eyes zoned in on you, face just frozen for a solid second.

You panicked, thinking that he could possibly see the notebook behind your back. Not the fact you were on your knees, staring up at him with wide cute eyes, and plump lips pulled into a slight pout. Especially with your sweater that was large and baggy, something you preferred, with one of the sleeves down—showing your bare shoulders.

Why would you wear tanks underneath the sweater? The buildings here aren’t that cold.

“Jinu Seonbae..!” You whisper, giggling nervously as you pressed the notebook tight against your back, taking a peek to make sure it didn’t stick out. “How.. was your day?”

Jinu blinked. Once, twice, before a large grin pulled onto his face and his eyes practically closed into those crescent moons girls swooned about. Whatever he was thinking about was long gone.

“I thought I told you to call me hyung, (Name). We’re going to be roommates for a while anyway.” Jinu said, closing the door behind him as he slipped off his shoes and put away his jacket.

You wanted him to stay as far as possible—you couldn’t have him seeing the mess you made! Your eyes trailed around the room, looking for something to distract him with. The floor was feeling sticky from the coffee, its spill coating the floor and now your knees. You didn’t even noticed you had accidentally knelt in the damn puddle.

“H..Hyung! Uhm, can you… get me some napkins?” You yelled, stopping Jinu just as he began to walk past the bathroom door. He balked at your raised voice but simply hummed, turning on his heels to grab some from the connected bathroom.

Your hands gripped the sticky notebook and shoved it underneath one of your old textbooks on your desk, standing up just as Jinu came back.

“Spilled something?”

“Mhm… just some coffee.” You muttered, thanking him for the napkins as you kneeled back down to wipe it up. “I don’t think it got on any of your things.”

Jinu let out a noncommittal hum, standing just inches from you as you bent over. You felt watched—to a strange and uncomfortable amount but you didn’t want to say anything. Once you finished, you glanced up at him, hoping he possibly didn’t notice his missing notebook.

But this position.

No.

No, it was his stare really. You felt yourself squirm, wondering how a guy could look so cute not too long ago and watch you like a hawk the next.

“Ah, (Name), did you eat the sandwich I bought you?” Jinu suddenly asked, his gaze shifting to his desk as he moved past you, sitting down on his chair. “I tried to remember what you liked.”

“Oh uhm. I gave it to my dongsaeng.”

The soft taps on the desk stopped, causing you to look over at Jinu. He was facing the window so you couldn’t get a read on his face. But the total silence made you feel as if what you said was the wrong answer.

“Dongsaeng? Biological?”

“Uhm. Yes. My little brother came to visit me.” You muttered, feeling a bit weirded out he asked that. “He skipped school to see me, but I didn’t have enough money to take him out so I just gave him my lunch. Sorry, Seonbae.”

Jinu’s light tapping on the desk began again as he let out a laugh. “It’s okay! I’ll just make sure to get you two next time.” He turned to face you, a large grin on his lips. Any tension in your body slipped away as you couldn’t help but smile back.

Kim Jinu wasn’t too bad of a roommate.

Just a shame he kept cockblocking you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Wa, Hyung, these lover letters are all for you?”

On your desk, covering your keyboard and almost the entire space area, was a small mountain of love letters. In your classroom for art major, you all had small little cubicles that was essentially your work station. Unlucky for you, many people found out exactly where yours was to leave gifts.

Oh but not for you.

Are you kidding?

They were all for Jinu.

Your classmate, Im Taeil, reached over and grabbed one of the food that were left, reading the sticky note attached to it. “Oh. This one is for Kim Jinu Seonbae.”

“They’re all for him.” You muttered bitterly, grabbing a heap of them and stomping over to the trash, dumping them with no remorse. Taeil watched you in awe as you cleaned your desk in seconds, leaving just the few snacks.

“Why do they give them to you instead of Jinu Seonbae?” Taeil asked, pulling at the rest of the sticky notes to read what was on them. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just confess to him? Wow, these notes leave nothing to the imagination. I think some of these are from guys too.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing one of the chocolate bars and pulling it open, taking a big bite. “I don’t know! Maybe they can’t handle rejection. I hope they know I’m not his damn servant!” You plopped down onto your chair and sighed, wanting to just drown in your sorrows.

So much for getting laid or finding a partner.

All that anyone wanted was Kim Jinu!

Agh!! You just wanted to say, “꺼져!” But you knew saying “go to hell” to everyone was a bad idea and would practically send you into the shadow realm of no friends.

Though your only friends seemed to be Taeil and Yoona. But you didn’t really think they liked you as a person. You were just the easiest to talk to.

“Hyung, can I…?” Taeil suddenly whispered, catching your attention. His hands made a grabby motion as he inched close to one of the snacks on your desk. You mutely waved and allowed him to grab whatever he wanted. You’d probably just give the rest to Yoona or something. Ah, maybe your little brother…?

“Oh, Oppa! Taeil!” Yoona greeted, the door pushed open as she carried a bag filled with goods. She skipped over, a bright cheery grin on her lips as she stood right in front of you and Taeil. “Look what Jinu Seonbae gave me! Ah, he’s so cool!”

Taeil peaked into the bag and pulled out a bag of chips. “Wow. He really got these for you?” You couldn’t deny the slight twitch in your lips at his wording. Her? Just for Yoona? No way. No way…

Yoona shook her head. “Not just for me! It’s mainly for (Name) Oppa!” She took out another pair of chips and two sodas, handing one over to Taeil. “The rest is for you! There’s a note inside.”

The bag was practically thrusted onto your lap as Yoona walked over to her desk across from yours and plopped down, eagerly chowing down on her snacks.

Taeil looked curious on what the note said but seemed to know there was limits to his nosy behavior as he sat down at his desk two seats away from you. Huh. Mainly for you?

Weird.

You pulled open the plastic bag and pulled out a soda and chips, similar to what he gave Taeil and Yoona. But there was more: two turkey sandwiches. You pulled out the one that had a sticky note on it, tilting your head as you read his handwriting out to yourself.

❝ 여기, 샌드위치 두 개요. 오직 토끼만을 위한! 아니 동생! ❞

❝ Here, two sandwiches. For Bunny only! No Dongsaeng! ❞

“No dongsaeng?”

You shrieked, looking back to see Taeil suddenly standing behind you. He grinned sheepishly, taking a step back.

“Sorry, Hyung. You got so quiet… I was a bit worried.”

Yoona perked up from her desk, tilting her head. “What does it say?” She walked over and glanced down at the note. “Who’s bunny?”

You shrugged, “not sure. I’ve never been called a bunny before.” You let out another pathetic cry of shock when Yoona and Taeil were suddenly close to your face, eyes wide as if they were examining you like a piece of meat.

“Really? You look more like a deer to me.” Yoona muttered.

“No… I see the bunny. Ah, but maybe hamster too. You have chubby cheeks, Hyung!” Taeil chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, wanting to push them away but you kinda enjoyed the attention. You weren’t really into the whole animal representative thing that a lot of Kpop idols did. Just didn’t see the purpose, especially after you grew up. But you wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t like being referred to as such cute animals.

You could’ve gotten an insect!

The rest of the day was uneventful. You actually ended up eating both sandwiches Jinu gave you, slaving away at your project. It wasn’t going as great as you envisioned—nowhere near. You had no problem creating a nude body it was just difficult to make it… artistically pleasing and not full on horny.

❝ 잠깐만요 시간 있나요?…. ❞

Yoona’s Bluetooth speaker sang the melody of AOA - Excuse me as you stared at the rough draft in front of you. You wished you didn’t pick digital art for this project and stick to traditional but there was no use complaining now.

Your wrist tensed as you zoomed in on the face of your model—creating the soft brush strokes of his hair. Sharp eyes, black in color. The outline of lips that you would paint in pink. Maybe even red. Earrings? No, he doesn’t have any.

He’s gotten bigger. Definitely compared to the pictures you’ve seen of him last year from his friends. Weights..? Boxing? His knuckles looked bruised sometimes when you saw him.

Red, aching. Cuts of skin. Bright and glossy from the ointment he’d put on it. Tanned skin. Red against tanned skin—a perfect contrast.

Does it hurt to move? If you kissed it, would the blood coat your lips?

It was such an edgy thought but you wondered how it’d look to use his blood as lipstick.

His thumb pressed on your bottom lip, slowly smearing it. Would he call you pretty? Kissing you so you both can taste the metallic rush of blood. Maybe you can taste something else. White, maybe?

Your breathing shuddered as your grip on your pen tightened, legs pressing tightly together. Red and white. Would he like you in that? Pretty and pliant just for him to claim. Your free hand gently pulled at your pants, alleviating some pressure against your crotch.

Bunny. Were you his bunny?

Is that what he thought of you? Helpless and defenseless? His fingernails digging into your soft skin as blood spilled, your soft moans teetering on the verge of tears.

What did he remind you of?

A fox?

Don’t they eat bunnies?

You didn’t know why the thought made your whole body spasm. Your breathing getting heavy as the pen began to slip from your hand. He’d chase you. Yeah, that’s what a fox does to their prey. Chase you until couldn’t run anymore, huddled in a dead end as he got closer.

You’d cry and beg but he’d take you. Because he wants you—wants you so bad he can’t control himself. He’d always wanted you beneath him screaming his name for all to hear. As you became his prey.

❝ 벗어날 수 없는 걸 ❞

“Oh! I love this song! Taeil, do you like The Boyz?” Yoona said, turning up the volume. Taeil hummed, looking up from his screen. His eyes looked bloodshot at this point. How long have you guys been here?

“I prefer girl groups. Like Red Velvet!” Taeil said, proudly showing his phone that had a Lock Screen of Seulgi. Yoona cooed and showed her Lock Screen of Kevin. Wow, you’re stuck with Kpop fans. You rubbed your eyes, looking away from your screen to stop seeing the dark spots appearing in your vision.

Taeil and Yoona began talking about their favorite groups while you listened to the song. It felt oddly fitting for the mood you were in right now. You’d have to ask Yoona for the name later. Right now you need a drink, stat.

You grabbed your water bottle and took long gulps as you finally glanced back at your drawing. It took a moment for it to fully register before you let out a scream.

No it was certainly manly.

“Hyung?!”

“Oppa?!”

There—right in front of you—was Kim Jinu staring right back at you. You…

You fucking drew him?!

❝ 온통 너로 물들여질 테니… ❞

No way. No fucking way.

But there it was, staring back at you. His fluffy black hair slicked back as if he was drenched in water. Black eyes with his signature big nose. His lips weren’t pulled into his usual smiles. You had drawn him with all of his features except that damn smile.

Damn Kim Jinu… he was affecting you in ways you didn’t think was possible.

You quickly saved your draft on the tablet and turned it off, needing to just go to your dorm and sleep this daze off. “Yoona… Taeil… I need to sleep.” You muttered, Yoona and Taeil staring at you with worried looks. “You guys should go sleep too. It’s late.”

Yoona and Taeil didn’t fight it. It looked as if they were waiting for you to give them permission. You waved them off, stating you needed to clean up a bit before leaving. Your professor didn’t like crumbs. But you didn’t clean, you just stared at your tablet. The large tablet that the school provided that was now logged on into your account, holding a secret.

Your breathing slowed as you reached over and pressed the power button, waiting as it lit up. The soft taps filled the room as you logged back in and clicked your recent save. He appeared in front of you again.

That fox.

A shudder left you as you pulled down your pants, along with your boxers, as your cock plopped out against your tummy. It was small. Smaller than most. Around 4 inches. Possibly 3 really. But it didn’t matter to you really—you didn’t think you’d ever want to top anyway.

Your hand grasped your cock as you began to pump it slowly, staring straight at the drawing in front of you. His cock. You wondered what it looked like.

You respected his privacy so you never dared to stare at him whenever he came out of the shower.

But you wish you did. Wish you could have an accurate picture of how it would look. How it would be deep inside of you. Would it make a bulge in your stomach?

Is he thick? Long? Maybe both.

You arched your back against the chair as you took shallow breaths, your whimpers filling the empty room. Your toes curled as you whined and mewled, wishing someone else was jerking you off.

Oh who were you kidding?

You wished it was Jinu.

Even as you reached your orgasm, cum coating your tummy, you didn’t feel any relief.

What fun was it if he didn’t chase you?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Jagi….”

A hum left your throat as you buried your face into your arms, shivering slightly from the cool air that tickled your stomach.

“Jagiya.”

Puffs of air brushed against your cheek. It was warm, a nice contrast compared to the cool air that covered you. A finger gently touched your cheek. Poking and doing small circles around the outline of it. The hand trailed down your face to your back, rubbing circles as it started a slight rhythm.

❝ 날 놀리는 거야, 예쁜 자기야. ❞

Despite the taps jolting against your skin, it almost lulled you back into sleep. It was something you missed, the touch of someone special. Slowly, it inched further down, moving to the end of your sweater. Your body flinched at the hand now teasing your skin directly as it grazed it your stomach.

❝ 무방비 토끼. 내가 너를 먹어치울게 ❞

It felt sticky. A deep chuckle reverberated against your back. The touch on your skin was possessive, rubbing and massaging your stomach. Your body flinched as your breathing began to stutter. A hand slipped further down, easily squeezing its way into your pants. The sensual touch—it felt as if you belonged to them and only them.

❝ 도망기면 쫓이갈거야, 토끼야… ❞

A gasp left your lips as your eyes opened, looking around to notice that you were still in the classroom. Fuck. Your body tensed as you moved away from your desk, groaning at the awkward position you slept in. As you stretched, your gaze flickered to an ice coffee on your desk with a sticky note attached to it.

It had a badly drawn bunny on it with a heart next to it. The words: “fighting!” were scribbled beside the crude drawing. You couldn’t help but smile, placing the note on small bulletin board near your desk.

It must’ve been your hyung, Lee Minjae. Or who you affectionately called, Minnie Hyung. He was the one who pushed you to pursue your major instead of what your parents wanted. Such a great hyung.

The whole thing about Jinu felt like a distant memory. You’d have to change what you’re submitting for the project, immediately.

No way in hell were you going to submit a nude of your fucking roommate.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

There was a something wrong with your bed.

After you took your shower and changed into comfy pajamas, you noticed there was something wrong your bed. Well for one the fucking mattress was missing. You had called Jinu if he knew what happened but all he said was that he found a nest of spider eggs in it so the school confiscated it.

Unlucky for you the school were cheap stakes and it was gonna take a bit of time before you got a new mattress. Jinu had said you would be sharing with him but you didn’t necessarily think you could survive something like that.

Him pressed up against you.

Would it…

You pushed the thought away. Your eyes trailed off to your desk when you suddenly remembered the ruined notebook. You walked over and grabbed it from beneath one of your textbooks, seeing it in its fully ruined glory. There was no salvaging it at this point. You hoped Jinu didn’t care for this dumb thing.

But you were curious to see if you could read it fully now.

You slowly peeled it open and bristled at just how bad the damage was. Half of the pages were stuck together and when you tried to part it they tore. The pen he used to write it had smudged from the liquid so his handwriting was ineligible.

Right before you had given up to just toss it, you came across the last page, seeing a word you could understand. “Jagi.” Huh. Who was this babe of his? You tried to push away the slight bitterness in your throat the thought of that.

Of course he’d have a girlfriend. He was Kim fucking Jinu.

It’d be a shock if he didn’t.

You tossed the notebook into the trash can and made sure to put your food snacks on top of it just in case Jinu decided to accidentally look in there. If Jinu ever asked about his notebook, you’d pretend you never even seen him with a notebook before.

Now all you had to deal with was the problem of sleeping in the same bed with Jinu. You’d survive.

Hopefully.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You haven’t survived. It’s been two weeks and it felt as if you hadn’t slept in years. Jinu keeps two pillows between the both you while you slept but somehow the two of you always end up close. It wasn’t even a day ago when you woke up to yourself resting right on Jinu, your cheek pressed against his chest while your hand palmed his neck.

He had a big chest—you wished you had a little bit of a degenerative attitude to feel him up.

But you’d rather not be known as the perverted roommate.

“(Name)-Ah? Something wrong?” A hand gently rests on your shoulder as you glanced up to see Lee Minjae staring down at you. A cute grin pulled on your lips as you placed your pen down to grip one of his hands. You just liked touching him.

“Minnie Hyung! What are you doing in the art department?”

Minjae smirked, leaning down as your noses touch. “Can’t check in on my dongsaeng? Your classmates have been telling me that you’ve been cooped up in here. It’s not good for you to stare at the screen for this long.” You giggled, watching as he pulled away.

“Mhm. I’m okay, promise!” You could feel yourself acting cuter in Minjae’s presence. It wasn’t shocking. He always made you feel safe to act how you do behind closed doors. You could wear whatever you wanted around him without being judged.

A perfect, perfect hyung.

“Ah, Hyung, thank you for the coffee last time! I enjoyed it.”

Minjae hummed. “Coffee? I didn’t bring you coffee.”

“What? You didn’t? Then…” You pulled your lips into a pout as you thought about who would do something like that for you. It couldn’t be Yoona and Taeil. You weren’t close to anyone else.

“Ah, did my pretty dongsaeng finally get a secret admirer?” Minjae grinned, playfully pulling at your cheeks while you whined. The two of you began to giggle like little boys as you stared up at Minjae with a look of pure content.

You hoped you had Minjae with you forever.

A soft knock on the door caught your attention as you and Minjae glanced to the right to see who it was. The position you were in was almost of that of a couple. Your hand grasping Minjae’s as they rest on your shoulders. The previous nose rubbing and even just you looking up at him like he hung up the moon.

Were you two a couple?

❝ 타오른 이 감정은… ❞

Jinu was having a terrible day. First he had to entertain a few random teachers with something he didn’t even care to remember. Second he was bothered by some fourth years about a project they needed help on. And now, he had to deal with Cho Yoona and Im Taeil’s yapping about their favorite song while he walked to your classroom.

That song Yoona was playing just made him angrier. Insanity was the name of the song, at least that’s what she said. Jinu felt the same and thought if he had to see something else that pissed him off he’d die a slow death.

So of course he had to see you, his bunny, making fucking whore eyes to some random seonbae.

What the fuck?!

Jinu forced a tight grin and held up a bag filled with food. Food that was just for you but of course he can’t say that. Despite himself, he tried to keep an easy going and fun attitude when speaking to other people. Though he was wondering if he should forgo that for punting Lee Minjae into the sun.

That stupid pig.

You wouldn’t even look at Jinu, you haven’t been looking at him often these days. He knew it was because you were embarrassed about the sleeping arrangements. But it was the only way he believed you could get closer to him.

So what if he deliberately put a spider and other insects in your mattress in hopes they laid eggs and ruin it so then it would force you to sleep on the same bed with him?

You don’t understand any of his other hints or flirting attempts.

He needed results fast!

You were hopping away to any other dick that wasn’t his and he couldn’t have that.

This chase he was having with you was starting to make him insane. If he didn't have you beneath him soon he wouldn't survive another night with you. His whole plan about having you sleep on his bed honestly felt as if it was back firing on him. You were so cuddly when you slept, always finding a way to move over the pillow barrier.

He always pretended he was asleep when you woke up in a panic, always pulling away before he could truly saver your touch—your warmth.

He was truly going insane. All he could remember was the first time he ever saw you. But he couldn't think about it further when he felt Lee Minjae's hand pat him on the back. Jinu fought every muscle in his face to not immediately grimace at the other's touch.

"(Name)-Ah, Yoona, Taeil, I'll take my leave now. I don't wanna bother you guys any longer." Minjae leaned down towards you and Jinu felt his upper lip twitched as he watched the older with his stupid dyed blonde hair that looked fried and crispy nuzzle his nose against yours.

If that wasn't enough, Minjae wrapped his arms around your neck and held you close as he pressed a wet kiss on your cheek. You shrieked and struggled against his hold, trying to avoid the kiss. But you hardly put up a fight, all giggly and smiley. You looked so small in Minjae's arms, so pliant and easy to hold.

Jinu pulled at his sweatpants, coughing slightly. That seemed to catch Minjae's attention as he stopped his childish assault and gave (Name) a cheeky smirk. Yoona began cooing at how cute you and Minjae looked together.

You didn't. No way. Jinu fought the urge to pull Minjae away from you.

Taeil tilted his head, "Jinu Seonbae, are you okay? Your eyebrows are so furrowed. You might pop a blood vessel."

The others looked over at Jinu, Yoona and Minjae questioning if he was alright, you especially with a look of concern in your doe eyes.

Good.

Worry about him and him alone.

Pay attention to only him.

"It's nothing," Jinu said, puling out his signature lady killer smile. "I think I just need to eat something, I haven't had a proper lunch in ages." Yoona immediately swooned while Taeil rolled his eyes. Minjae seemed in deep though as he stared at Jinu, the fourth year tilting his head as if he was digging deep into Jinu's soul. Figuring him out with a just a look.

Minjae grinned. "Let your seonbae take you out, yeah?" He suddenly said, catching everyone's attention. "I know a place not too far from here that sells great tteokbokki."

Like I'd want to be caught dead with you... Jinu thought to himself but he simply hummed. "Sure, Seonbae. Bye, Yoona, Taeil..."

Jinu stared right at you as Minjae pulled away from you. Your eyes flickered over to Jinu and you offered him a tight smile, waving slightly. "See you, Jinu Seonbae."

"See you, (Name)." He whispered, mostly just happy you even looked him in the eye.

But his happiness was short lived when you looked at Minjae and offered him a cute smile. A smile that you’ve never gave him. "Bye, Minnie Hyung!"

Minnie Hyung?!

Jinu followed Minjae out of the classroom, curses swirling in his mind as he stared at the man beside him. Minjae chuckled after a moment or so and looked over at Jinu with a smirk. "Y'know, you can't blow my head off with just your stare. I didn't know you were into my (Name)-Ah."

His? Jinu was fine with being expelled at this point but Minjae suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Jinu-Ya," he placed his hand on Jinu's shoulder while Jinu wondered what gave the man the audacity to use such a title with him. "If you want (Name)-Ah, you have to take him. There's so many wolves that want him." He smirked knowingly, his finger tapping Jinu's shoulder.

Just as Jinu was about to speak, Minjae pressed his finger on his lips. What the fuck? "Listen to your hyung, Jinu-Ya. With someone so naive like (Name)-Ah, you just take him like you own him. Chase after him, there is a dead end soon."

With that, he pulled away and smirked. "Tell me how the chase goes. I've been waiting for someone to snatch up my dongsaeng."

Jinu just stood there blank faced in the middle of the hallway as Minjae walked away. Just what the fuck was that? He didn't even think too hard about it when he realized he didn't have to worry about you and Minjae. Phew, that stress was short lived.

But what did he mean by dead end?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You were going insane.

It felt you were being watched these days. You had finally finished your project, having going with another idea and completely abandoning the whole nude thing. But it still sat in your drafts, practically calling you everyday. Sometimes you'd go back...

You'd finish certain parts of it. His body fully detailed expect that dreaded crotch. His dick. You wouldn't dare make what you believed his dick to look like. There was still some sense of self respect deep inside you.

Just not strong enough to not pay attention when you were drawing something for fun. You had a art account that you posted on like once every month of gay art you drew. So you were creating the piece, feeling in the mood to do something with oral fixation.

Only for you to notice instead of the usual two same characters you stuck to, it was Jinu as the top. Which, fair, it wouldn't be too different from what you had literally done weeks ago.

No, the problem was the partner.

You drew yourself.

You fucking drew yourself.

The drawing felt so real compared to the others you've made. Drawing Jinu between your legs, holding you up, bending you over on the bed. Your shoulders rest on the bed while your legs curled into yourself. His mouth biting the flesh of your ass, his eyes staring right at you, the real you.

Of course you had to angle it this way. Fucking pervert.

You tried to salvage the drawing but each stroke on that cursed tablet just made the partner look more and more like you. Okay, you were desperate for sex at this point. It was too much. You pressed the delete button on the sketch and powered off the tablet.

"I'm going, Taeil. Don't stay too late."

With lighting speed, you rushed to your dorm, trying to ignore the growing boner in your pants. Why did you have to like someone like Jinu? Out of all the people at this stupid university. Even Minjae would've been better than Kim Jinu of all people. But you couldn't complain any further because when you stormed into your dorm, fucking Kim Jinu was there, sitting at his desk.

Jinu glanced over at you and grinned, taking off his glasses as he shut off his laptop. "You're back earlier than normal. Did you end up finishing quick?"

You numbly nodded. "Yes... I just need to sleep. My eyes hurt." You couldn't even look at him. His gaze followed you as you grabbed your pajamas. Wherever you stepped, eyes were right on you, watching you like a predator does his next prey.

Bunny and fox.

That's what you imagined him as.

A fox.

It felt so hard to breathe with him near.

Why did it feel like there was no escape?

❝ 지금 너를 미치도록 ❞

The soft sputtering of the fan filled the room as you laid there right awake on Jinu's bed, wondering why you couldn't sleep despite your tired eyes. Jinu was fast asleep, his back pressed your own back. You didn't know why the usual barrier wasn't here tonight but you couldn't care too much about it right now. Not with your growing boner.

You haven't masturbated in two weeks. It's not a shock that the stupid art from earlier was still affecting you like this. You wondered if you could just sneak into the bathroom and quickly jerk one off. Would he notice? Just as you made the decision to get up, strong arms suddenly wrapped around your waist. Your body stiffened as you felt Jinu snuggled against your back.

His face buried in your neck, his nose and bangs softly tickling you.

What...the...fuck?!

Your legs subconsciously clamped shut at him so close. Okay, you were fucking screwed. The thought of moving seemed impossible now with him so close. His grip was so strong that you didn't understand how someone asleep could have such strong coordination.

Despite being cuddled by your crush, your cock was more alive than ever, leaking against your pajama pants. You let out a stifled whimper as you reached down and gently rub the bottom of your palm against your bulge. The relief was almost instant as a guttural groan escaped you before you could stop yourself.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Were you really going to do this?

Yeah.

Yeah you were.

Soon the fan wasn't the only one making noise. Your soft and breathy moans filled the room as you jerked off. Your body flinched from the pressure causing your butt to rub against Jinu's front.

Wait.

He was... hard...?

A wave of fear washed over you as you stilled your hand. No, no. He must be having a wet dream or something. Yeah, he can't be awake hearing you. No. No way. You needed to reach your damned orgasm and just go to sleep. You'd deal with the shame in the morning. You finally decided to pull down your pajama pants to grasp your cock and not just rub it anymore.

You pumped your cock, making sure to still your body so you don't accidentally rub your bare ass against Jinu's clothed crotch. He'd hate that. No, he'd hate to learn what you're doing. Fuck. The shame was already affecting you. Stray tears fell down your cheeks as you bit down at your pillow, still chasing your orgasm despite the shame filling your lungs.

Embarrassment. This was so fucking embarrassing.

It was close-- your orgasm. Inches away, dancing on the tip of your fingers as your moans began to reach a crescendo. So much for muffling yourself. Your edge to your orgasm was wrecking you—sending you to a mental space you couldn't imagine in any other circumstance.

Was this how sex with someone you liked felt?

Could Jinu make you feel this way?

Was... him being here making you this way?

It wasn't enough. You wanted more. Your legs shifted as you subtly pulled your pants down, kicking them off without a care. You didn't have any lube but you had no time. The tease of ecstasy was whispering your name—calling you to go further. So you did. You suckled two of your fingers, getting them as wet as possible before slipping down between your legs.

The two seconds of pain as you pushed them inside did not deter you. You could deal with a little pain. It was rough. Your fingers rubbed against your inner walls, searching for those bundle of nerves to drive you wild. But it was difficult in this position. You usually masturbated on your back or while sitting up.

You wondered if you should go as far as to shift positions. That'd be too much, right?

The shame was finally catching up to you. You couldn't do this. This disgusting and degrading action towards both you and Jinu. Your eyes closed as you sighed, eyes fluttering shut. It was too much.

"You're done already, (Name)-Ah?"

A chill crept up your spine as those three words were whispered right into your ear. Your eyes widen but you couldn't move. It was as if his words just took out any sort of life within you. His arms around your waist tightens as you feel him nuzzle himself further on your neck.

Your breathing feels erratic. You can't breathe. It feels as if you'd die right here, right now.

You looked down to see his hands. They looked recently bruised from his usual boxing. But now they felt different. As if it was a show at just how durable his body was. His arms slowly began to tighten around you only to you let out a sharp cry at the pain, earning a pleased grunt.

"You're awake, yeah? Are you ignoring hyung?" He whispered, his lips trailed your neck, stopping right at the tip of your air. "You can masturbate right beside me but can't even answer me?"

A pathetic whine left your throat as you tried to wiggle from his grip but it proved to be futile. You gasped, arching your back as you felt Jinu rub his crotch right against your butt. He began to hump you ignoring your shocked gasp.

Was he...?

"So selfish, bunny. Chasing your own release. Not even thinking about what your moans were doing to me." His right hand trailed down and pushed you to lay on your front, his body following to lay on top.

You cried out, gripping the bedsheets like a life line. "You.. were awake...?"

"I never went to sleep." He said honestly, spanking you right on your ass. You squeaked, back arching to get away from another spank. "I never knew you would do something like this. I was beginning to think you hated me."

"I never—”

"—but you never listen to me, do you? I tell you everyday to call me hyung but you never let it stick. What, do I have to force you to say it?"

"We aren't close!" You whined, whimpering at another spank. Your lower hips wiggled but you didn't make any effort to truly push Jinu off of you. You didn't understand yourself sometimes.

"What? But you call Lee Minjae hyung without any problem." Jinu grunted, his hand reaching over to grab something from the slim nightstand next to the bed. You couldn't tell what he grabbed until something cool and slimy was drizzled onto your ass. A whine left you from the coldness. "What'd he do? Fuck you? Chase you like you so desperately want?"

"Nooo," you whined, screaming when he shoved in two fingers inside your hole. Your hands dug into the bedsheets as he thrusted his fingers in and out, a constant rhythm with no sign of stopping despite your pleas for him to slow down.

Jinu chuckled, leaning down as he used his free hand to push your hair away from your face. "You act so innocent but you want this. I'll show you that I'm the only one for you. No other man can chase you like I can."

"What... ngh!!! are you talking... about..?" You manage to ask, wishing you could silence yourself. Your neighbors will certainly be having a long talk with you and Jinu tomorrow.

"Oh, bunny. My bunny, you really are so naive." Jinu whispered, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "You don't even know what you crave. It's okay, hyung will take care of you now. You won't ever have to think again."

Your body began to spasm as you felt a finger graze that bundle you tried to reach earlier. Jinu stilled for a moment, a look of slight worry in his eyes before he noticed what had just happened. A cruel smirk pulled on his eyes formed those crescent moons you once associated with his innocence.

But it didn't bring any sort of serenity to your body.

You were flipped onto your back with ease as Jinu grabbed your thighs and pushed them forward, effectively blocking your view from him. Desperate and pained moans left your lips as he continued to finger you, fingers gunning consistently at your prostate.

A loud scream left your throat as your back arched against the bed, your cock finally releasing the weeks long pent up lust you've stored for awhile now. Your stomach slowly rose and fall, coated in your sticky cum. All you could think about was your orgasm back in the classroom.

You were right.

Jinu made you cum harder than you could ever do by yourself.

You expected him to pull away but instead you felt a tug on your cock. A whine of overstimulation left your throat as you parted your legs and looked at him with wide doe eyes, confusion written all over your face.

A cruel smirk pulled on his lips as he tilted his head. "I've wanted you since I first saw you. You really think I'll let our first time be so lackluster?"

Lackluster?

He thought that was lackluster?

A pained cry left your lips as he began to thrust his fingers inside once more, leaving no sympathy as he immediately went for your prostate. You were going to die. You were going to die being fingered by your roommate. Kim Jinu was going to be the death of you.

It didn't take long for you to cum again and again, your fifth orgasm not even releasing anything. Your body twitched as your eyes watered, tears streaming down your face from the constant overstimulation. You weakly pulled your legs away from Jinu's grip after your fifth orgasm, muttering something about dying from his touch.

Jinu chuckled, allowing you to pull away. "Ah, Jagi," he whispered, causing you to blush at the title. To use such a term for you... You shamelessly felt your spent cock twitch. No, no, no! You absolutely couldn't do anymore. "You're so cute. I wanted to wait but I can't. You'll forgive me, right?"

You watched with wide eyes as he grabbed your waist and pulled you down towards him, earning a shriek from you. Your legs moved up to hide your aching and loosened hole but he was quick, spreading them wide. His eyes were like a predator, watching your every move as you tried pulling down your shirt to cover your weeping cock.

"Seon—Hyung... No more... No more, please." You whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Jinu's gaze narrowed in on your face. You could see him think. Your body was aching and praying Jinu did what you asked. But your heart....

Your heart wanted him to take you without a second thought.

"Hm. No." Jinu laughed cruelly, flipping you to rest on your knees. You cried out at the sudden movement but could only whimper as he pushed your back down, lifting up your hips. Your face pushed into the bed while your thoughts rushed at the position. It felt so humaliting to have sex without looking him the eye. You felt like an object. A prize he just won.

Your dick twitched.

So much for self respect.

"Hyung's gonna take good care of you." Jinu whispered, spreading your ass apart as he rubbed his cock between the cheeks. "You'll be good for hyung, mhm? No more seonbae."

You only whined, wiggling your hips, your ass rubbing Jinu's cock.

Jinu teasingly slapped your ass. "You complain about it being too much... But look at you now, begging for my cock. I should just stop listening to what you say and take what I want. Would you stop me, (Name)-Ah? Would you run away?"

Run away?

Run away from the man you've had wet dreams about since you came to this damn university?

"Mhm. I'll run..." You whispered, a strangled moan leaving you as he began to push his cock inside of you. The stretch was difficult and you briefly wondered if this was how you'd die.

Heart attack from a thick cock.

Despite your answer, Jinu hummed. "Good. I'll chase you until you're beneath me, shaking in fear as I take you." His hands gripped your waist as he slammed the rest of his cock inside, earning a gargled cry and scream from you.

Jinu was anything but sweet. Fucking you like a beast as you withered and cried from the constant pressure against your prostate. After this, you weren't sure you'd have sex again. This could be enough for a life time.

"Sorry, (Name)-Ah. I can't last long." Jinu suddenly grunted, pulling out. You whined at the lost but didn't have to mourn it for long as he pulled you onto his lap, making you face him. Your arms subconsiously wrapped around his neck as he easily slid back into your tight heat, gripping your thighs as he bounced you on his cock.

Jinu smirked, his eyes trained right on you. "You look so pretty when you cry." He said, pressing soft kisses on your neck. "Next time, you'll be crying from just my cock. I'll make you scream my name."

You whimpered, arching your back as you pulled him closer, another dry orgasm creeping on you. You'd be sleeping well for nights to come. Jinu grunted as he began to thrust upwards into you in tandem with bouncing you up and down, causing you to cry at the sudden pressure. You were close. So close.

A sharp feeling in your shoulder caused you to spasm as Jinu's thrusts became desperate. It took you a moment to even think about what just happened--so focused on Jinu's cock stretching you out. Until you noticed red dripping down your right shoulder.

He bit you.

The delayed reaction to the bite made you scream out, tears streaming down your face you reached your six orgasm of the night. You went limp in his arms, just letting him chase his own orgasm. Teeth sharp enough to break skin wasn't something you ever imagined Jinu could do. But there it was, a rare and sore bite on your right shoulder. Blood slowly trickling down to your chest.

Jinu finally reached his orgasm after a minute or so, holding you close as he cummed deep inside. You shuddered, feeling his cum coat your sore tight heat. He didn't wear a condom. If you weren't fucked dumb you would've yelled at him about it but all you could do was hum as he pressed soft kisses against your wet and sweaty skin.

You glanced down and noticed blood coating the bottom of Jinu's lip as he pulled away from you.

He did end up coating you in red and white.

But your blood was the lipstick. You couldn't help but laugh at your cringy thought, groaning as Jinu pulled his cock out.

"You did so good, (Name)-Ah." Jinu whispered, kissing you on the lips. You tried to return the kiss but could only purse your lips against his.

Your breathing was harsh and quick, your body battered from Jinu's claiming.

This wasn't normal. Wasn't conventional at all. You were sure that if you told Yoona and Taeil about this they'd be worried for your safety.

You were prey to Jinu

But you were okay with that.

❝ 숨을 쉴 수 없게 아프면서 황홀하잖아 ❞

"You're going to roommate with a first year? Wow, good luck!"

"I didn't know they could do that."

"No one would willingly room with a first year. They're the worst."

"Aw, c'mon, Oppa! They're usually just nervous."

"Well, our Kim Jinu will have no problem. Who doesn't love him?"

"Ah, true. Good luck, Jinu!"

Kim Jinu pulled out his keys, unlocking the door to his new home for the rest of the school year. He'd be the one to get unlucky for his previously planned roommate to drop out of school—leaving his room open for a late transfer freshman. He didn't want to deal with first years, they were annoying.

He opened the door, shocked to see the room already having someone by one of the beds. The first year was knelt beside the bed, looking through the suitcase that was filled to the brim with clothes. Clothing that looked more feminine than anything but Jinu didn't judge.

He forced his usual carefree smile, ready to greet his new roommate when you finally turned around. His breathing stopped—his smile dropping at the sight of you. You... You were different from anything he imagined.

Your look of innocence. Your body suddenly becoming fidegty the longer he stared at you without saying a word. Your sweater drooping on your shoulder, showing off your bare shoulder. Your skin looked so soft, so plain. It needed something on it.

It looked too bare.

"I'm... Kim Jinu. Who are you?"

"Park (Name)." You whispered, your eyes flickering up and down his body.

Love at first sight wasn't real to Jinu. He wouldn't lie and say he felt love towards you when he first saw you.

He felt lust.

An urge to completely ruin you.

And by the look in your eyes, the not so subtle glances at his lower half of his body. You looked to be such an easy catch.

"Stop looking at me like that." You suddenly said, your lips turning into a slight snarl but it hardly held any weight. Jinu couldn't help but tilt his head. He could tell you wanted him but you were holding back?

Actively pushing him away as if you didn't look at him with the same lust he felt. Running away?

Like a game of cat and mouse.

No...

Fox and Bunny.

He was going to devour you.

Even if he had to chase you.

❝ 네게 빠진 순간 더는 결백하지 않은 나 ❞

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

WOW!!! Gosh, this was way longer than it needed to be. I wanted to try something new lmao. Doubt i'd do it again, i was listening to kpop while writing this so it kinda just happened. Translations at the bottom! Yes, i did it for a reason, made it more fun if you didn't know what he was saying. Red is lyrics, pink are jinu’s words

I might make him an oc, i put too much effort into him for it to be a one time thing, smh... primal play is so fun.

tag list: @iwishtobeacrow @flurrina @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life25 @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @love-kha1 @star-3214 @mooncarvers-world @smellwell @tehyunnie @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi

Translations:

❝ 벗어날 수 없는 걸 ❞ — I can’t escape

❝ 온통 너로 물들여질 테니… ❞ — everything will be colored with you

❝ 날 놀리는 거야, 예쁜 자기야. ❞ — you’re teasing me, pretty baby

❝ 무방비 토끼. 내가 너를 먹어치울게 ❞ — defenseless bunny. I’ll eat you up

❝ 도망기면 쫓이갈거야, 토끼야… ❞ — if you run away, I’ll chase you , bunny

❝ 타오른 이 감정은… ❞ — this burning feeling

❝ 지금 너를 미치도록 ❞ — i'm driving you crazy right now

❝ 숨을 쉴 수 없게 아프면서 황홀하잖아 ❞ — it hurts so much that i can't breathe, but it's ecstatic

❝ 네게 빠진 순간 더는 결백하지 않은 나 ❞ — the moment i fell for you, i was no longer innocent

Songs used: Insanity - The Boyz & Criminal - Taemin

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #male reader #mlm ns/fw #male bottom reader #oc x male reader #oc x reader #smut drabble #x male smut #original character #mlm nsft

3K notes · View notes

wcters · 2 months ago

Text

𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘

pairing: franco colapinto x fem!singer!reader, ex!lando norris x fem!singer!reader

summary: a year after the breakup between y/n and lando, daniel and alex set her up with someone new

warnings: some angst, fluff, some swearing, pda, only some bad guy lando, pretend that some of the things that happened in 2024 happend in 2023, | faceclaim is gracie abrams, this is for my alrx and daniel fans (aka me)

taglist: @landorris, @bellsboops, @a-beaverhausen, @seasonswinter, @rosalie-mae, @saythename-sm, @nataliambc, @sarahsobsession, @awritingtree, @kawaiifurychaos, @batman7sworld, @dying-inside-but-its-classy , @mbioooo0000, @xo100, @charlotte-xoxo, @theonottsbxtch, @iamred-iamyellow, @willowpains, @sunny44, @caroto-porta-world-blog

do not answer ‼️

hey, can we talk?

about what?

what is there to talk about?

do not answer ‼️

i didn’t want it to turn out this way

YOU’RE the one who cheated, not me

i am fully entitled to react the way i did

and it could’ve been worse

do not answer ‼️

i know, it was shitty of me

i was just lonely and drunk

i didn’t mean it

that is such bullshit lando

you’re away 24/7 and not ONCE did i do what you did

don’t do this now

i’m moving on. you should too

what would your girlfriend think of this?

do not answer ‼️

i miss you, y/n

don’t do this, lando.

you’re going to regret it

do not answer ‼️

i regret doing this to you

it’s not the same with her

nothing will ever be enough for you lando

the only things i ask of you is to leave me alone and treat your

girlfriend right

don’t text me anymore. delete my number

i really do hope you find someone to settle down with

even if you don’t deserve it

you’ve blocked this number!

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 114,025 others

f1gossip a little over a year after the breakup between lando norris and singer y/n y/l/n, y/n was seen hanging out in the williams garage with new driver franco colapinto at the italian grand prix. is a new romance budding?

view all 347 comments

user1 this is unexpected but not unwelcome

user2 they would be so cute together

author pretend it’s franco in the pictures 😭😭

user3 did y’all see they way he was looking at her??

↳ user4 they are both down bad

user5 daniel or alex probably set that up

↳ user6 oh for sure, they’re y/n’s biggest fans

user7 it’s nice to see her looking happy with someone new

lilyswag

liked by totallynotdaniel, yourspam, and 37 others

lilyswag going for a sweet treat with daniel after we successfully played matchmaker

view all 21 comments

totallynotdaniel feeling accomplished 😘😘

professionalchili okay queens

yourspam girl what

↳ lilyswag i thought i made it so you couldn’t see this….

↳ yourspam 🤨🤨🤨

artsyfartsyalex a well deserved sweet treat

ilovedaniel NEW SONG NEW SONG

↳ totallynotdaniel max…. you are so right

↳ totallynotdaniel NEW SONG NEW SONG

yourspam y’all better have gotten me, lily, and heidi something 😐😐

↳ lilyswag on the way to you now

↳ yourspam merci 😌😌

↳ artsyfartsyalex okay bilingual queen

↳ yourspam date me 😍😍 get rid of charles

↳ justaninchident girl what-

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, alex_albon, and 426, 972 others

yourusername p9 and p13 for my boys! mama’s so proud 🥺🥺 thank you for bringing me along 🤍 even though now i know your true intent (you too lily and heidi)

view all 1,255 comments

user1 i love their dynamic so much

alex_albon 🤫🤫🤫🤫

user2 WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

danielricciardo #masterminds

↳ alex_albon where’s our pay check

user3 they totally set her up with franco

francolapinto encantada de conocerte ❤️ (lovely to meet you)

↳ user4 this man is on a mission

user5 did you see the way franco was always looking for her??

↳ user6 his face LIT UP when he would talk to her

↳ user7 full on giggling n shit

lilymhe we definitely had no idea what was going on

↳ heidiberger_ 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

unknown

hey, is this y/n?

who are you?

unknown

oh sorry, it’s franco

i got your number from alex

ohh

that makes sense

well what’s going on franco?

franco

i really liked hanging out with you

i was hoping maybe we could do it again?

we could stay a couple days after the azerbaijan grand prix and explore the city

i don’t know…

franco

i’m not like him

please, just let me have a chance

if you don’t like it then we can never speak about it again

if you do, maybe we could go on a date

you can bring bernie

deal.

f1gossip

liked by user1, danielricciardo, and 123,973 others

f1gossip y/n y/l/n and franco colapinto seen walking her dog bernie and holding hands out in baku, azerbaijan after the azerbaijan grand prix. is this further conformation of their relationship?

view all 1,054 comments

user1 daniel?? what are you doing here

user2 they look so happy together, i hope they’re together

↳ user3 she deserves happiness after her last relationship

user4 the father who stepped up 👏👏

user5 bernie is so cute 🥺🥺

lilyswag we did it y’all

↳ user6 ALEX??

↳ lilyswag 🤫🤫🤫

yourspam

liked by lilyswag, artsyfartsyalex, and 37 others

yourspam AHHHHH

view all 26 comments

artsyfartsyalex happy for you belle 💗

lilyswag IT WORKED

lilyswag YIPPEE

totallynotdaniel alex and i are literally geniuses

ilovedaniel new songs coming??

↳ yourspam maybe…

professionalchili alex literally yelled yippee out loud

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, danielricciardo, and 802,647 others

yourusername loading . . . .

comments have been turned off

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux, and 1,573,025 others

yourusername !!!!!!!!!! my new ep gasoline comes out in a week with the tracks so american, bed chem, risk, so high school, gasoline ft. HAIM, and am i okay ft. megan moroney!

view all 3,936 others

user1 y/n y/l/n and megan moroney?? my two worlds have collided

megmoroney 💙💙

user2 this are all about franco i just know it

danielricciardo max just squealed in delight…. and so did i

↳ maxverstappen1 I DID NOT

↳ user3 it’s okay max, we all know you did

alexandrasaintmleux will be streaming on repeat 💗💗

user4 I’M NOT READY

lilymhe pre-tournament playlist??

user5 THEY DID IT, I JUST CAN’T PROVE IT

francolapinto muy orgullosa y mucho amor ❤️ (very proud and much love)

↳ user6 AHHHHH

francolapinto

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and 1,246,013 others

francolapinto thank you to all the boys you’ve loved before ❤️

comments have been limited

yourusername :’) 🤍

user1 the balls this man has to diss you know who

alex_albon where’s our dedication song??

danielricciardo yeah, where’s the “thank you and i love you alex and daniel?”

↳ yourusername in the works, trust

heidiberger_ 💗💗

lilymhe you guys deserve this!

user2 thank you y/n for introducing him to taylor swift

3K notes · View notes

honey-tongued-devil · 2 months ago

Note

i Beg you i mean BEG YOU to do more chubby person x jinx or vi or something BECAUSE IM LITERALLY FATTT and i love the hcs

DROP ANOTHER ONE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙇🏽‍♀️

[Arcane preference] with a chubby s/o pt.2- cuddle time

The second request of the week. Honestly, as someone who isn't exactly slim, I write these headcanons for those who ask me but primarily for myself. Requests are open, as usual, I ask for your patience because English is not my first language. I'll leave you the link if you'd like to follow me on Bluesky (I'll be posting Arcane content there soon as well, i want to build a 'public' meanwhile).

| Tip jar |

Jayce:

- Starting with the fact that this man is built like a wardrobe, and his clothes are already pretty roomy, he’s started buying even bigger shirts just to make sure you can borrow them, they’ll be oversized on you, and you’ll be happy.

- So when you’re at home watching a movie or cuddling in bed, he strokes your belly with a smile, pretending to be surprised.

- “Is that my shirt?”

- This himbo, who handles a hammer that weighs as much as a horse, means no arguments when it comes to cuddles: you’re sitting in his lap.

- And when things get a bit heated, he’ll hoist you up with your knees on his shoulders, pressing you against the wall just to flex his strength and remind you that it’s absolutely no problem for him.

- After the dirty deeds, expect him to bring you something to eat (and especially drink) in bed, and don’t expect to be able to say no.

Viktor:

- When you’re relaxing on the couch, it takes a moment to find a position that’s comfortable for both of you: usually, he sits upright with one leg stretched out, the other (his weaker one) draped over yours, and you either facing him or lying on your side with your head on his shoulder.

- The focus here isn’t on clothes, but blankets. They’re all queen-size, so the two of you can wrap yourselves up as comfortably as possible during cuddles without anyone getting cold.

- And when you stand up with one draped around you like a cape, he can’t help but chuckle and call you “Your Majesty.”

- As for clothes, you’d never think he’s clued in to your needs, but then you see the socks he buys for you both: to avoid any circulation issues, he only buys soft cotton and wool socks without elastic, so even at home, you always have cozy socks that match the season, like festive holiday ones.

- His secret move? Sliding his hands between your thighs when they’re cold, and playing with the little rolls there, pinching them when you’re cuddling.

- In your most intimate moments, he stops to kiss and nip at your thighs, leaving little constellations of marks that he traces over with his fingertips in the days that follow.

Ekko:

- Cuddle time is sacred.

- If he walks into the room and sees you sprawled comfortably on the bed waiting for him, a bomb alert goes off in his head: he shuts the door and runs to gather everything he might need.

- Water, snacks, extra blankets, anything he can think of.

- When he gets back and shuts the door behind him, he has a ridiculous grin on his face, warning you that he’s about to pounce with a playful growl, as if to show you just how much he wants to nibble you.

- Ekko is a huge fan of having your knees on his shoulders while you lie down, rubbing his cheek against your calf, and kissing it while you’re busy squirming.

- His favorite hobby? Getting his head caught between your thighs and becoming “deaf.”

- He’s always the big spoon because he has to protect you, hug you, and nestle his arms and hands into every soft spot.

- After any wild night, expect breakfast in bed and a hot bath waiting for you.

Vander:

- Zaun has a dreadful climate because the smog creates a thick layer of heat, but being underground and surrounded by cold materials, temperatures can drop sharply. So sometimes he shows up with a blanket, hands you a corner, and asks you to hold it for a moment.

- As soon as you take it, he calmly wraps it around you, picks you up, and carries you over to the fireplace, keeping you wrapped like a burrito on his lap while he enjoys his pipe for half an hour.

- Because of the cold, intimacy often happens right there in the living room, in front of the fire. Sometimes, he’ll give you the armchair and kneel in front of you, or you’ll both find yourselves on the rug.

- He’s a good lover, but don’t expect him to do much after expending all that energy at his age. On a good day, he’ll be a gentleman and carry you to bed; then it will your turn to cuddle and soothe him with gentle strokes as he enjoys them with his eyes closed.

- If it’s not a good day, he’ll pull the blanket over both of you and set the guard in front of the fire, resigning himself to the fact that you’ll be sleeping cuddled up either on the chair, the sofa, or even on the rug.

- In exchange, the next day, he’ll make it up to you with a long, hot bath and a massage.

Silco:

- This man has money, and he knows how to use it well.

- When the cold sets in Zaun, your bedroom becomes a place you’d never want to leave. Fur rugs are laid out on either side of the bed, soft, warm robes in matching colors appear in the closet, and if you want to stay in your den waiting for him while he works without freezing, you can even light the in-room fireplace.

- After he finishes his work, he washes up, dons his robe, and heads straight to bed, sometimes he doesn't even waiting, and begins going over his paperwork under the blankets while he absently strokes your shoulder or hair.

- If you complain enough, he’ll carefully gather up the papers, set them aside, and hover over you to kiss your neck and collarbones, sliding your robe aside so his lean, wiry body can press against yours.

- He’s incredibly gentle in everything he does, from how he touches to how he kisses or nibbles. Every movement makes you shiver, but he remains composed. Occasionally, between kisses, the cold tip of his nose brushes your skin, making you giggle; he then returns to your lips, asking for forgiveness before continuing his slow exploration.

- He’s the type for wine and a cozy dinner under the covers, a break for cuddles, and then back to work.

- If you protest that you’re eating too much, he’ll feed you himself—no time for nonsense (but always with a touch of tenderness).

Jinx:

- The most chaotic thing Jinx does is cross out or draw over posters that show people who are too skinny. They can’t make you insecure if you don’t see them, and any excuse for vandalism is a good one.

- With the cold setting in, her hideout transforms into a true nest: a heap of clothes and fabrics covered in blankets and throws to make everything softer and warmer.

- Jinx has cold feet, but it’s not her problem—it’s yours. She’ll press them against your stomach, your back, and if you react, it’ll only get worse.

- She’ll start laughing, and it’ll become personal. The only way to fight back is with tickling, but that would be a declaration of war.

- When you both finally calm down, she’ll wrap herself around you, clinging with her whole body, inhaling your scent deeply, and digging her fingers into your side.

- Don’t expect too much delicacy in intimate moments; if she needs you to move, she’ll grab and pull you into whatever position is most comfortable for her. She holds your legs up, and handles you like you’re her personal doll.

- For her, this is princess treatment; and the effort she’s putting in is what counts.

Vi:

- She buries her face in your chest, first and foremost. Feeling sad? Face in your chest. Happy? Face in your chest. Deep in thought? You guessed it—face in your chest.

- Her go-to stress reliever is squeezing your thighs and hips.

- During cuddles, she rests your head on her shoulder, strokes your back, kisses your forehead, and speaks softly.

- She always plays with your hair, and if it’s long enough, you’ll find small braids everywhere.

- When you’re cuddling in bed, she’ll either hold you close or be the little spoon herself, with one hand in yours and fingers intertwined.

- When things get more intimate, she becomes completely dependent on you, pressing her fingers so deeply into your skin that they leave marks, as if even that isn’t enough and she wants to be inside you, to reach into your very core.

- She never imposes anything; if you don’t feel like washing up, she’ll clean you up with a warm cloth, and if you don’t feel like getting up, she’ll carry you. Whatever you want, she’ll go along with it unconditionally.

- Occasionally, she’ll climb over you, propping herself on her arms, just to steal a flurry of kisses.

Caitlyn:

- Caitlyn can cook, and she will.

- Her way of cuddling starts at the table, with an evening set up like a royal banquet. Anything you like will be there, along with sweet and savory snacks, which, if there are leftovers, she’ll take to the coffee table or the bedroom so you can enjoy them later.

- There’s no rush; if you want to go for a walk or relax after eating, it’s fine by her—she just wants to be with you. She might ask a housekeeper for a bit of help, or she’ll clean up on her own while you get ready.

- If you lie down in bed, she’ll absolutely take the chance to gently knead your stomach like a cat, making you laugh but also helping you fall asleep rather quickly.

- She’s the ultimate big spoon, nestling her face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly.

- When things get more intimate, she loves to look you in the eyes while she touches you, so she can savor every reaction, every shiver, watching your body melt with every move she makes.

- She becomes mesmerized by the way your body ripples under her touch, like there’s an ocean beneath your skin.

Mel:

- The real issue with Mel is that the rich never have anything better to do, so morning, noon, and night, they’re constantly organizing events. Breakfast at a noble’s home, brunch with the councilors, and of course, everyone must dine together. Tea at five with the Kirammans is absolutely sacred, and dinner is a moment for sharing ideas.

- Intimacy is this strange, almost absurd thing, as though everything is designed to give you no second of solitude.

- But when she does find a moment, she sits down and signals you to come into her lap or rest against her, cuddling you, playing with your earlobes, and winding her fingers through your hair until your eyes cross.

- She prefers giving affection to receiving it, simply because it feels like the only way she truly knows how to show love.

- Only in the deepest intimacy does she allow herself to do less, to enjoy your presence lying with her, to let go of control.

- She adores the way your body moves artistically, like it follows lines painted in oil, and these are the few moments where she can fully admire you.

- She’s quite strict afterward. You must drink those two glasses of water, and as you get up, she’ll call for someone to change the sheets and make the bed, so by the time you’re done showering, everything is ready and perfect.

Sevika:

- Bluntly put? She works with the chem barons, who are mostly old, misogynistic men with monocles embedded in their skulls, grotesquely altered rats with spider-like mechanical limbs, a very interesting gang of women in latex with disturbing port attachments, people with mechanical noses that pump in toxic stuff directly, and other highly modified, not-so-pleasant characters.

- I mean, sure, you have every right to feel insecure, but when she tells you you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her, she’s being quite literal.

- Her delight in the fact that not only are you entirely flesh and blood but actually soft flesh is beyond words—she feels like she’s hit the jackpot with a premium relationship.

- There’s hardly a moment when she’s not touching you, holding your arms or cheeks in her hands, or kissing your skin.

- During cuddles, she prefers you on top of her, and if she’s calm and has enough time, she’ll even remove her arm.

- It’s a controversial choice, but she doesn’t want to be around you while wearing a weapon, and she doesn’t want you to see her the way she sees the chem barons. It’s almost a moral decision on her part.

- In bed, she can hold you easily with just one arm; she’s strong, it’s not an issue for her. But first and foremost, she wants to lie down with you, feel your soft arms, your chest, your waist where she can let herself sink in, and when you laugh because she’s tickling you, she kisses you.

- For her, the hardest part isn’t functioning with one less limb but letting herself appear calm, not on the defensive, even vulnerable.

- But she doesn’t regret it for a single second.

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luveline · 3 months ago

Note

jade my lovely, i would kill for more early season spencer and bombshell!reader. i love them sm!! (i also love seeing the mentions of elle, like that’s my bbg)

“You aren’t still mad.”

You take a sip of your coffee and refuse to answer.

Elle rolls her eyes. It’s unrestrained, as is her deep sigh. “Whatever.”

You drink more coffee. Think about it, can’t contain it, “Whatever yourself, Greenaway.”

“I want it just as bad as you do.”

“But I’m better.”

“You’re not better. You’re less likeable, there’s a difference.”

You weren’t surprised when they chose Elle for the open BAU position, but you were gutted nonetheless. Pretending it doesn’t bother you comes easily, just not when she’s rubbing it in your face. “Can you leave that?”

She hands over the stapler she’d been about to put in her cardboard. You don’t own one, and you decide to forgive her when she hands it to you without argument. “You want anything else?”

“No, it’ll just remind me of you.” You sniff.

“At least you’ll have an empty desk beside yours for a while. It’ll be good for your afternoon meditation.”

“Hopefully, they’ll fill your absence with a very attractive new recruit.” You’d like that, a hottie to crush on. Now Elle’s leaving, you’ll have no one to project your fantasies on to make it through the work day. “How will you cope?”

“What, without you?” Elle asks.

“With all the BAU hotties. Everybody on that team is maddeningly attractive,” you say with a put upon swoon, back of your hand curled and thrown to land against your forehead.

“I didn’t realise you felt that way about Jason Gideon. Perhaps if you’d made that known, you’d be packing your desk up instead of me,” Elle laughs.

“Well, maybe not Gideon. But the rest of them. Derek… if you take him seriously, he’s gorgeous. And Hotch–”

“He’s married. And older than us by ten years.”

“He’s handsome, is what he is. So quietly funny and moody. I’m not telling you to ruin his marriage, I’m just saying he’s distracting.”

“And Spencer Reid?” she asks.

You grin. “He’s cute.”

“Morgan said you asked him out for coffee?”

“He wanted to tell me about water bugs.” It was sudden but sweet, he’d started a tangent on how they can walk on water because they’re small and hydrophobic, then asked if you really wanted to know, which you did.

“He’s cute,” Elle says, raising her brows.

“Have you seen him turn to the side? His jawline is ridiculous.”

“He looks a little… dorky,” Elle says finally. She isn’t mean-spirited, just honest about her tastes.

“I like dorks. And I really loved him, he was adorable. Derek’s been hazing him, so maybe you could be nicer? I think he really needs a friend.”

“You don’t want to be that friend?”

You smile. “I do. But I can’t exactly do that from Sex Crimes.”

“Well, you can help me carry my stuff to the BAU. Come on.”

“And look desperately needy? Is there anything worse than going where you’re not wanted?”

“Morgan will be happy to see you. Maybe Dorky Spencer will be there to tend your BAU shaped wounds.”

“You’re heartless, Greenaway.”

You put your arms out obediently for her box. She grabs her jacket and her bag, gives her desk a last sweep, and turns away. It’s the last time she’ll ever sit at her desk in the Sex Crimes Unit, and it’s the most envious you’ve ever been of a friend. You want more than anything to be in her position. Profiling isn’t mythical to you, it’s a science you’ve studied, and you believe you could do it well if they just gave you time to learn on the job like they’ve done for Elle.

But the position is filled. There’s no room left on the team.

No need for a sex crimes expert now they’ve chosen Elle.

You’re going to have to make yourself useful in other ways, or play politics, or, better, make friends.

Hotch likes you, you know that, and Derek’s awesome. Gideon is the one you need to convince, but for some reason he’s totally sworn off of you. Luckily for you, he isn’t out in the BAU office when you enter, it’s just Derek, Spencer Reid, and Elle’s waiting desk.

“Hi boys,” she greets.

Derek turns.

Spencer puts down his book. You meet his eyes.

You’re far more flirty than Elle. “Hi, Derek. Hi, Dr. Reid.”

Derek grins and takes Elle’s box from your arms. “Hi, girls. Happy moving day.”

You don’t really want to talk about it, think about it, or come off as a jealous jerk, so you do a little bit of performance. “What are you reading?” you ask Spencer, pretending to be interested, hoping he’ll throw you a rope. You spot a familiar creature on the cover and your smile legitimises. “Is that about pond skaters?”

“It’s Small Freshwater Creatures,” he says, shy but somehow firm, too. His tone changes as he relays facts. “It’s an identification guide, but it does talk about the specifics.”

“You really like bugs, huh?”

“I wanted to know more about it in case you came back.”

You can’t help grinning. “That's really sweet,” you say earnestly, “did you learn anything new? You sounded like an expert already.”

“They’re predators. They eat mosquito larvae.”

“Oh, awesome, so if we had a few more pond skaters in the world we’d be better off.”

You prop yourself on Spencer’s desk as he begins to rattle of facts and figures. Not too far away, Elle and Derek talk under their breaths.

“Is it me, or is she into him?” Derek asks.

“Maybe more than she realises.” Elle bites back a smile, stealing glances at you from over Derek’s shoulder. You’re more interested in what he has to say than anything she’s seen on you before. You lean in, your eyes bright. A little flirty, ever so slightly teasing, but genuine, too, as Spencer begins a quick spiel.

“Well, he’s a goner,” Derek laughs.

Elle doesn’t know about that. You don’t play with people’s hearts.

There’s a teeny, tiny strand of shyness to you as you touch your neck. You begin rolling the chain links of your necklace along your finger, causing poor Dr. Reid to lose his train of thought. Two people entirely unaware of the road they’re embarking on.

“Do you guys have a stapler?” Elle asks. “I lost mine in the divorce.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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actiniumwrites · 6 months ago

Note

if you're still doing requests: maybe one of the genshin guys finding out you use their card in tcg? scenario or headcanons is fine, and i have no preference for who you want to write! (i will say i'm fixated in the fontanians rn though)

the perfect pair

synopsis: their reaction to finding out you use their card in tcg

characters: tighnari, cyno, neuvillette, lyney, and wriothesely x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: nothing besides fluff and cyno being an actual maniac for tcg (he’s probably a little ooc but i think it’s funny)

notes: i’m ngl i totally forgot about tcg 😭 i played it SO much when it came out and then barely touched it unless it was for the primos. i gotta finish those achievements still 💀 also i know not every one of these characters has a tcg card but we can just pretend :) thank you for the request!

part two

Tighnari:

Because he doesn’t play tcg very often — at least not as much as Cyno does — he doesn’t find out right away

When he does, it happens at a casual dinner between you, him, and all your friends after Collei asks to play so she can try out some of her new cards

Cyno enthusiastically agrees and you all set up after you finish eating which is when Alhaitham, whose eyes never miss anything, spots a suspiciously similarly looking guy on one of your three player cards

“You seriously have your boyfriend as one of your cards?” he’ll ask with a disbelieving smile, as if he can’t comprehend why you’d have it

You smile and lift it up, proudly nodding as you list off the card’s strengths and the nice backing it came with. You don’t fail the mention the bonus that it comes with your boyfriend’s face on it

Tighnari feels his cheeks warm in slight embarrassment as he turns away in his chair. Even so, he can’t help but find it really cute that you have his card

He even tells his friends to shut up and that they’re just jealous they don’t have his card and that they wish their significant others had them as cards

It actually shuts some of them up, shockingly

Meanwhile, Cyno is in utter disbelief that such a card exists and will try to buy it off of you so he can complete his collection (you don’t let him have it though)

Cyno:

Ah the king of tcg himself

He has the most dramatic reaction for sure. Not even in the sense that he’s embarrassed, or teasing, or whatnot. He’s just straight up shocked

Slams his hands down on the table and his jaw drops as he stands up. You giggle on the other side of the table at his reaction, watching him desperately try to find words

“Where did you even get that?!”

You swear you only see him this expressive when it comes to tcg

“I don’t know, I just found it at a local store when I was passing by,” you shrug carelessly, as if you aren’t going to completely destroy him with his own card in about five minutes

After he gets over the initial awe of seeing himself in his favorite game in the entire world, he’s actually very internally excited, although you don’t get to see that side

He thinks it’s cool that you like using his card and is honored that you’d even choose it in the first place, especially with only three slots (he’s also just happy he’s a main card and not a buff lmao)

And when you do destroy him, he slides you a pen and paper and politely demands you give him the name of the seller so he can track them down tomorrow

Neuvillette:

He doesn’t even play the game so initially, he’s extremely confused why you have a playing card with his face on it

“Fascinating. I did not know they made such games. Is my card good for playing?” He’s genuinely intrigued by it and you find it rather endearing

Because he doesn’t understand it though, he doesn’t necessarily feel any certain way about it. He’s too caught up in the game to realize what it means for you to be using his card

“Yeah, it’s pretty powerful, but it’s representative of real life so that’s expected given your position.”

At that, he feels very flattered. His cheeks will warm a bit, casting a light blush over his features when you speak so proudly of him

He’ll even ask if you have a card of your own hoping to take a bit of the attention off him when he begins to feel more excited about it

You shake your head no and explain that it’s unlikely given people don’t know enough about you to make a full card of you or to sell it

Will later get one made for you without you knowing, only one singular copy worth a priceless amount just so you could have one to match him too <3

Lyney:

Smug little shit

You’re playing with him and his siblings after he invited you over for a date. Lynette and Freminet were bored so you both offered to play a game, to which tcg was suggested by Freminet

You’d played only a few times with them before, which is why you didn’t realize what was such a big deal when you pulled out a card with your boyfriend on it, entirely forgetting it was new and you hadn’t used it with them yet

“Is that…is that Lyney?” Lynette asks, stifling a laugh as she inspects the card. Freminet leans a little closer too in order to get a better look.

And it indeed is, Lyney confirms for himself

“Woah no way, I didn’t know they made this,” he smiles at it, picking it up and spinning it in his hand before smirking at you, “I knew you couldn’t resist this handsome face, even on a playing card.”

You smack his arm faster than Lynette can and snatch it back out of his hand. Lyney pouts and slouches down into his seat as his siblings inquire as to where you got it

Lyney can’t stop staring at you as you tell them, his chest beating faster and faster as you embarrassedly ramble on about why you got it in the first place and how you thought it was cute like a little keepsake

Even though you’d been dating for some quite some time, you both managed to keep surprising one another and falling in love all over again, even if it was over silly things like tcg cards

Lynette sighs as she notices the lovestruck look in her brother’s eyes, “He’s doomed.”

Wriothesley:

He’s weirdly calm about the whole thing. Not like he’d be over dramatic or anything, but I don’t think he’d be as teasing or shocked by it like the others or like some may assume

Wriothesley thinks it’s really cool when he finds it in your collection one day after you left your card case in his office by accident, a few cards slid out with his face popping out on one tucked away in the middle

He’ll examine it before a gentle smile pulls at his lips at the thought of you using it to play against others

He’s almost proud, in a way

When you walk into his office a ten minutes later, realizing you had left your cards and a few other of your things on his desk, you stumble upon him looking at it

“Oh, uh you weren’t supposed to see that yet,” you say awkwardly as you pause in your step and fiddle with your hands, embarrassed he had found it. It was a somewhat new card and you actually wanted to show it to him later

But Wriothesley doesn’t care. Hell, if he had known there was a card out there with him on it, he would’ve bought it for you a long time ago

He’ll just kiss you. A nice, sweet, and to the point kiss as he slides the card back in your hand before pulling away and staring down at you, “You’re cute.”

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liliavanrougelover · 6 months ago

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: How the act when they're jealous

Characters: All (-Ortho)

A/N: Something something Floyd <3

Riddle Rosehearts:

He’s ashamed about it

He knows that being jealous is toxic and he hates that he’s feeling that, so he ignores it

He pretends he’s not jealous and hopes it just goes away, and yet… it hasn’t

He knows you’re dating him and he has nothing to worry about. But the way that guy is being so touchy and getting so close to you… it makes him want to collar the guy right then and there

He doesn’t because that would be unreasonable, but he does decide that he needs to talk to you. If ignoring it won’t work, then he’ll just have to face it and talk to you about it.

So, he walks over and asks to talk with you privately

“I don’t like how friendly that guy was with you. I know you love me, but I’m jealous. It’s silly and childish and I’m sorry that you have to deal with me being like this. I tried to ignore it, but it got worse, so I thought telling you about it would help. And again, I’m sorry.”

He’s so sincerely apologetic about it

Because he doesn’t want you to feel bad or feel like you have to stop being friends with that guy just because he’s jealous

Just tell him that it’s okay and remind him that you love him and only him

And a date would help too. Maybe a private tea party in the rose gardens

Trey Clover:

He doesn’t get jealous easily. He’s so confident in his relationship that “what if…” thoughts of you cheating or leaving him hasn’t once crossed his mind, BUT…

There is a line that shouldn’t be crossed

This guy acts so casual and nice around you, and he’s happy about it and he wished it stopped there

But then the next day, the guys is standing closer, being more touchy, and his voice sounds more flirtatious

Trey knows you don’t hear how he’s speaking, because if you did you would’ve moved away or told him you were taken or something. But you just kept talking to him with a smile

So, Trey walks over to shut this guy down before he takes it too far

“Hey. So sorry to interrupt, but they’re taken. I’m Trey, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He’s so polite that you can’t tell he’s even jealous

He lets you finish your conversation with him, but he stays there with you to make sure he doesn’t do or say anything

And the next day, he keeps you all to himself

He takes you out to eat, shows you around Sage’s island, bakes with you (or talks to you while you watch him bake) and then invites you to stay over and watch a couple movies of your choice before falling asleep in each others arms

Nobody could even tell he’s jealous

Cater Diamond:

So pouty

He gets jealous and walks around with a pout on his face

He doesn’t even check Magicam!

It’s not hard for him to get jealous either

You smile at someone for a bit longer than usual? He’s jealous. You let someone stand a little too close? He’s jealous. You agree to hang out with them one-on-one? He’s jealous.

He doesn’t like being jealous, and he tries to hide how often he gets jealous. Usually it works. He just takes a few days to think it over and then he’s perfectly fine.

But, sometimes it becomes unavoidable and he can’t hide it. And at those times, he invites you to his room so he can talk to you

“That guy you studied with yesterday was being pretty buddy-buddy with you. Almost like you’re a couple. But, last time I checked, we were dating. And I don’t think our relationship is open right now. Wanna explain yourself?”

He doesn’t realize how accusatory he sounds

It’s like he’s interrogating you and doesn’t realize it

And he does feel bad when he realize how he sounds, because he knows it’s not your fault

He apologizes for being so accusatory and asks you to have a study date with him later that day

You get to his room after class and he’s n set up for something that isn’t a study date

His LEDs (He has LEDs because I said so) are on a nice pinkish color, the room smells like cherry blossoms and he has a little dinner for two set up on his desk with an extra chair that he borrowed from Trey’s room. And before you go back to your dorm, he gives you a bouquet of roses

Ace Trappola:

Believe it or not, he doesn’t get jealous that often

But when he is, he doesn’t waste any time

Some guy thinks he can just put his hand on your arm, and stand so close, and tell you that he’s always free if you want to “hang out”? Hell no

He’s immediately baring his teeth like a lion

Not literally, but you could definitely tell he’s jealous with one look

He just walks over to you and forces this guy to back off. And if the other guy doesn’t back down, he’s not afraid to fight him

“Hey. Back off! For your information, they’re my partner. MY partner! Not yours. Why don’t you back up and keep your dirty little hands off of them. Wouldn’t want them to catch whatever creep disease you have. Hey, babe, let’s go. I want to make you dinner tonight.”

He gets you out of there as fast he can

He also doesn’t straight up tell you not to talk to that guys (especially if he’s your friend) but he does say “that guy makes me uncomfortable”

And he takes you back to his dorm and makes you dinner (Riddle and Trey have to step in because he almost ruins it. He tried and that’s what matters)

He also ask you to stay the night just for his peace of mind

Deuce Spade:

Immediately feels guilty. Especially because his first instinct is to go over there and punch the guy that’s standing too close and getting too touchy

You don’t even know that he’s jealous, because he never tells you

There are signs though

He’s hanging around you more often, getting more touchy, saying “I love you” more often, but other than that you wouldn’t know

He talks to one person about it and that's Jack

He ask Jack for advice on being and jealous and Jack gives pretty solid advice

The only way you’ll actually get him to admit he’s jealous is if you ask him

“Oh… Is it obvious? Sorry, I didn’t want to say anything in case you thought you did something wrong or anything. I was trying to hide it so it didn’t affect you. Am I being too overbearing? I’m sorry, I’ll try to tone it down.”

Please reassure him that he isn’t being overbearing and that you just want to make sure that he knows you love him

He tells you that he’ll work on not being jealous and even ask if you can help since he’s never seen you jealous

He wants to be better for you ♡

Very protective

Leona Kingscholar:

You’re his herbivore, not anyone else's

Someone gets too touchy or too friendly, he will get so protective

God forbid it’s a Savanaclaw student, he will make their life a living hell

He’s also not afraid to approach you two while you’re talking and telling him off

Doesn’t he know who this herbivore belongs to?

“Hey! This herbivore is taken. I’ve made that very obvious. And even if they weren’t, what makes you think they’d like someone like you? There’s a reason you’re single. How about you stop creeping on people and do something productive? Herbivore, you want me to teach this guy a lesson?”

Will actually beat the guy up if you want him to

He’ll also immediately take you to his room to cuddle

Also encourages you to tell off anyone else who acts that way

And if he does catch you telling off a creep, he gets so proud

“That’s my herbivore.”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Doesn’t really mention it, but there are so many signs

He’ll ask you to study more, get donuts, and help him with chores. And he’s a lot clingier than ever

There isn’t a minute of your day that goes by when he’s not with you

And he also discreetly teaches the guy a lesson. By stealing all of his money. He has the guys wallet now

He’s not gonna get all flirty with his partner and not pay the price

“Hey! Y/N! I got more money! You wanna go out? My treat!”

He tells you that the money came from Leona, but it didn’t.

He just sticks closer to you and doesn’t talk about it

He’ll also deny being jealous if you call him out on it

If you talk to the guy he’s jealous of when he’s with you, he’ll shamelessly glare at him

Jack Howl:

Doesn’t get jealous easily

He trust you and that’s not gonna change because some guy gets touchy

He’ll only get jealous if you actively flirt with somebody, but at that point he just settles for leaving (reasonable)

He’s protective though

If a guys flirting with you and you’re visibly uncomfortable, he will get you out of there as fast as possible

Or if you tell him that a certain student is being creepy to you, he’ll keep you away from the guy

“Hey. You’re making them uncomfortable. Leave my partner alone. Y/N, let's go. Do you wanna see this new cacti I’m growing?”

He ends up sticking around you and make sure nobody is creepy or starts making you uncomfortable

He’ll act like your personal security

If a guy gets mad and starts getting physical with either of you, he’ll pick them up and take him away from you

Not jealous, but protective

Azul Ashengrotto:

Oh no

He just locks himself in the VIP room

Azul’s coping mechanism is to hide and he does just that

He sees a guy being all touchy and flirty and he doesn’t stick around. He just runs off and hides

You have to go to him and tell him that you aren’t into that guy

“I know. You are dating me and you love me. I just saw that guy and I thought… I don’t know. Maybe he’d be better for you. He’s more athletic, better looking, he’s… fit. I’m sorry.”

He will get Floyd and Jade to spy on him and get blackmail information. He’ll then force the guy to work for him by using the blackmail and leave him with the worst and hardest job

That guy will learn not to be creepy to his partner again

Jade Leech:

Unhinged

Sometimes he’ll pretend to be jealous just to mess with you and get kisses, but when he’s actually jealous, he’s unhinged

He will blackmail whoever he’s jealous of to do disgusting things. When he goes to the Mostro Lounge, Jade will purposely make his food bad (or tell Floyd to mess it up). He’ll let Floyd have “fun” with him.

He is not going to go easy on this dude. Oh, but you won’t know any of this. You just notice that he seems a little more on edge and if you ask him about it:

“Well, my pearl, I’ve been quite jealous recently. Don’t worry though, I’ve dealt with it. Would you like to go on a hike with me?”

You can try to ask how he “dealt with it” but he won’t elaborate. He just tells you not to worry about it

He has this big grin on his face too, that definitely doesn’t calm you down

He does drag you on a hike with him. Mainly to get your mind off of what he might’ve done and also to get more mushrooms for his terrariums

Floyd Leech:

Oh no… Oh No. OH NO!

He gets unhinged in a more physical way

He is not afraid to approach you and get the guy to leave you alone. In a forceful way

He's so angry and violent. In a word, he’s very Floyd. Which checks out

“HEY! Who do you think you’re flirting with? That’s my shrimpy! Are you asking to get squeezed? Aha, I’ll give you a ten second head start.”

He’ll chase the guy around the school for a good while. To terrorize him, he’ll let the guy stay ahead of him, but once he starts slowing down he’ll get him

Oh, but you won’t get mercy either

He finds you after school and cuddles you for hours

He’s half-heartedly squeezing you with his head buried in your chest and grumbling about you being cruel

He’ll tell you how mean you are letting him get all jealous and then not doing anything to make him feel better

The cuddle’s don't count either. He wants kisses. A LOT of kisses.

Doesn’t get jealous

Kalim Al-Asim:

Ever

Why would he need to be jealous? He trust you

He sees a guy flirting with you and doesn’t feel even a little worried

At the end of the day, he’s the one dating you, he’s the one kissing you, he’s the one who gets all your love and affection and that’s what matters

Now, if you want him to step in and help you he will

You have to tell him if someone makes you uncomfortable and if he sees that person talking to you, he’ll step in

“Excuse me, they’re taken. I’m their boyfriend. Sorry, but I need them for something. Come on, Y/N, I need your help setting up for a party this weekend.”

The excuse he used to get you out of their wasn’t even a lie

He genuinely needs help setting up for a party

Whenever he gets you out of uncomfortable situations, he never lies about needing you. He needs your opinion on everything. The food for a banquet, the decorations for a party, his drumming skills, everything.

Jamil Viper:

What? Him? Jealous? Yes

You love him and want him. He’s not letting someone take you.

He’s tries to be lowkey about it though

He’ll interrupt every conversation you have with the guy, claiming that he needs you for something and then saying he just wanted to spend time with you

He’ll invite you to study more or help him with his chores

He’s not above pulling you away from the guy either

“Hey. I need them. Y/N, can you come with me?”

He literally just keeps you away from the guys he’s jealous

He tries to hide it, but then eventually just ends up cuddling you forever

He ends up falling asleep

And when you tell him he’s more clingy than usual, he denies it (like a liar)

Another guy that doesn’t get jealous

Vil Schoenheit:

He’s confident in himself

Why would you leave him for any of the potatoes around this school? Nobody could be as great as he is

He knows he has no reason to worry

At least, that’s what he says, until…

He sees you talking to Neige

Neige isn’t flirting or anything, he’s just being his normal self, but Vil still get jealous

The longer you talk to him the more the jealousy grows. He doesn’t say anything while Neige’s there but when Neige’s gone

“Potato. I hate to admit this, but I've found that I’m jealous. Perhaps you could help get rid of this ugly feeling. Would you like to go out for dinner?”

He spends the rest of the day with you. He’ll just randomly kiss you and gets happy when you randomly kiss him

And at the dinner, he pulls a bouquet out of thin air

You think he planned this the day prior. After all, he was with you all day, and you didn’t see him buy a bouquet

Little do you know, he ordered them while you were distracted and had Rook deliver them to him just before he entered the restaurant

Rook Hunt:

Rook, believe it or not, isn’t jealous

He is, however, territorial

If someone ends up standing too close to you, they will end up with an arrow grazing by them, forcing them to back up

He doesn’t acknowledge it at all

To him it’s just another day

You ask him about it and he acts confused

“What do you mean? I was just making sure they learned personal space, mon chéri. I need to make sure no one thinks to touch what's mine.”

He goes on a whole rant about boundaries and mentions something about marking???

He keeps say french in the middle of his speech and you end up getting lost

The main point of his speech is that he doesn’t want anyone trying anything funny with you since your his

Weirdo

Epel Felmier:

Oh man…

Epel already has a bit of a fragile ego from always being seen as delicate and girly, so when someone tries to make a move on you…

He immediately thinks that they don’t think he can protect and provide for you

He assumes that they don’t think he’s man enough to keep someone safe and provide for them and he is not at all happy about it.

“HEY! Git yer hands off ma partner, ya creep. Ya think ah can’t provide for ‘em ‘cause ah’m small, ey? How bout we head outside and ah teach how a real man fights!?”

That guy wasn’t too sure what Epel said, but the aggressiveness made him leave you alone

Epel ends up flexing asking if you saw how good he was at protecting you

He then takes you to his spell drive practice to impress you more

He also tells you to tell him if anybody is creepy like that again

Let's get one thing straight, he didn’t see anything physically

Idia Shroud:

He was watching the cameras he installed in the sc- I mean, no, what cameras?

He saw this guy standing way too close and you were obviously uncomfortable and trying to back up

And just because he can’t go outside, doesn’t mean he can’t stop this guy and put him in his place

He has Ortho, after all. And he’s more than happy to protect his best friend

“Hey. You need to back up. They’re taken by my big brother. I suggest you leave them alone unless you want to experience my laser eyes first hand.”

Ortho than escorts you to Ignihyde to make sure that creep doesn’t try to approach you again

Idia pretends he wasn’t jealous while clinging onto you like his life depends on it

He’ll swear on his life that he wasn’t jealous and yet he refuses to swear on Hero’s Dawn: A Rogue's Journey. Strange

Malleus doesn’t realize that someone flirting with you at first

Malleus Draconia:

Only when Lilia tells him does he realize

He gets all huffy about it, but then remembers that he can smite the person with lightning

However, when he gets there, Sebek’s already there telling this person off

How dare they think they can treat this human better than the next king of Briar Valley! Are they dumb?

Malleus has to stop him from hurting the person and then sweeps you away

“My dear, that person didn’t put their filthy hands on you, did they? I must admit, when Lilia told me that they were flirting with you, I felt… Jealous. I’m glad to know that Sebek’s looking out for you.”

Sebek only thought it was an insult to Malleus, but maybe don’t tell him that.

He tries his best to be around and recognize flirting better, but it doesn’t really work

Lilia tries to teach him the differences between friendliness and flirting, but he doesn’t get it

He tries though, and that’s what matters

Lilia Vanrouge:

Oh no

No mercy for this poor soul who thought of flirting with you

He’s lowkey a little unhinged, but doesn’t let it show

In his mind, he’s thinking about settling this with a good old fashioned duel, and on the outside, he’s smiling politely

He does feel a little smug. He already knew you were the hottest student on campus, but this further cements that

“Oho? I understand why you would be interested in them, they are the greatest after all. However, they are taken. By me. Say, if you’re so intent on winning their heart, why don’t you duel me for it.”

He doesn’t end up fighting that person because he’s powerful enough to accidentally kill them, but he definitely considered it for a second

Just a second

And then he takes you to his room to play video games well past midnight

Silver Vanrouge:

Doesn’t get jealous for two reasons

1. He can’t tell the difference between being friendly and flirting and

2. He trusts you

Even if someone tells him that it’s flirting he won’t do anything because he trust you not to leave him

He’ll only take action if you tell him someone is making you uncomfortable

He asks for a name and/or description of the person and confront them about it

“My partner told me that you flirting with them has made them uncomfortable. Please stop. If you continue to harass them and make them uncomfortable, I won’t hesitate to take matters into my own hands. So, please leave them alone so this situation doesn’t escalate.”

After a few days, he asks if that guy left you alone and is satisfied when you say yes

He’ll do anything to make you feel safe and happy

Sebek Zigvolt:

It takes him a few minutes to realize someones flirting with you, but when he does he gets pissed

Who do they think they are?

That’s his human!

He’s insulted, offended, appalled, stunned, another word

This shall not stand

“How dare you say such things to MY human? Do you know who I am? I’m a loyal attendant of my liege, Prince Malleus Draconia! How dare you think of saying such things to MY human! You are a despicable person and I detest you!”

He meant that with his whole heart

He stays with you the whole day and makes sure that no more creeps try to creep on you

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msfantasy-comics · 1 year ago

Text

The Family Meet and Greet

Damian Wayne x Reader

Request/Summary: Hey hun! I wanted to send in a request for Damian Wayne x reader. Maybe reader being introduced to the family/the family finding out about them?

A/n: Honestly I can’t tell if the picture is Tim or Damian.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Damian is a pretty private person and doesn’t intend to do an awkward meet and greet with his beloved girlfriend.

He knew that all of his family members would find out one way or another anyway.

Dick Grayson:

It wouldn’t take a genius detective to know that Damian is asking for advice for his love life.

Damian sits in his hero costume, hunched over as his legs dangle over the side of the building. His eyes evade Dicks, a red hue spreading across the tips of his ears.

A soft smile embellishes Dicks lips as he sees his younger brother whom is typically egocentric, now looking timid and shy for the first time ever.

“So my friend started seeing someone recently and he had this dilemma on if he should keep seeing her or not because on one hand he has all this baggage he doesn’t want to burden her with and on the other hand he just can’t bring himself to break things off with her.”

“So this girl your seeing-“ Damian’s eyes bulge, snapping his neck towards Dick, acting too defensively.

“Ugh, are you not listening Grayson? I said it’s about my friend.”

“Right, right, I forgot. My bad…” Dick think’s carefully on his words. “Sounds like your friend is a classic over-thinker. Relationships are far from logical, it’s all based on feelings. It might be hard for your friend, but just enjoy it for what it is.” Damian sits and stares off over the Gotham skyline looking unconvinced. “Look Dames, there is no right answer. Just do what feels right.”

Leaning back into his palms he stares in amusement at his beloved younger brother continues pining in anguish.

“So… how long do we keep pretending that we aren’t talking about you? Can I see a picture?” Damian rolls his eyes with a sigh, sliding his phone out of his pocket, he taps on the screen silently before shoving his phone into Dicks hands.

There laid the image a happy couple. Damian’s arms wrapped around your shoulder. The dark city filtering behind the brightly lit couple, forever captured in permanent laughter.

Dick, initially keen to tease the cheesy photo before him, now silent in pure aw to see the genuine smile, Damian’s eyes lit in adoration.

“Do not tell anyone Grayson. I will share the news when I am ready.”

Tim Drake:

The little rat has been acting rather odd.

Tim tried talking about it to Dick but he just kept evading his questions by pathetically redirecting his attention with someone else’s random drama.

They’re both acting weird and secretive, and there is no way Tim is going to be kept out of such an intriguing mystery.

Usually Tim would just stalk his targets, but this is Damian we are talking about. It is incredibly difficult, if not impossible to track Damian without him noticing. Starting with Damian’s social media, Tim pin points all of the photo locations and begins to visit each site one at a time. He hacks the local cameras and reviews the footage from around the date the photo was uploaded.

Low and behold, footage of Damian smooshing his face into another ladies face….

Whelp, Tim was certainly not expecting to see such a DISGUSTING display of affection. YUCK.

He didn’t even know the rat could even feel those types of feelings.

Tim, now laying on his bed cuddled up to a pillow is looking… traumatised.

Sometimes, it’s better just not to know.

Barbara Gordon

No freaking way.

Barbara could not believe her very eyes.

When completing a Internet background check on the Wayne family to scrub any suspicious allegations or accusations, Babs found the Holy Grail of finds.

An account with a mysterious woman with months worth of photos with the Wayne’s local angsty brat, Damian Freaking Wayne.

When completing a generic photo match search. Lovey, dovey poses with Damian and a girl by the name Y/n flashed up on the screen.

This is juicy! To tell Bruce or not to tell Bruce, that is the question.

Jason Todd

Disgusting. Absolutely foul.

It’s a random Tuesday evening when Jason jumps roof tops only to discover a couple making out all hot and heavy.

Their bodies tangling together as the man rips his shirt off. The girl sliding her hands along his abdomen before landing on his belt buckle.

The man then slides his hands from the back of her neck to her ass, giving it a needy grope before sliding his hands to the back of her thighs, lifting the woman with ease and pressing her against the wall.

This is hilarious, they have no idea Gothams most infamous Vigilante has caught them about to get down and dirty on Gothams roof top.

Jason sat down and ate his figurative pop-corn in humourous delight, until his eyes adjust.

“Ain’t no FUCKING way!” Jason yells, humours delight now churning into a disturbed nausea. He swallowed the bile raising up in his throat.

Pulling out his phone he calls Damian. Panting breaths filter through the phone, only furthering Jason’s disgust.

“What?! I’m in the middle of-“

“I know what your in the middle of you sick bastard! Take it indoors!” The line goes quite for just a moment. “Little freak, your family patrols the roof tops you know, ugh, I can’t - I’m having a flash back to Selina and Bru- ugh I’m gonna vomit.”

Duke

“Finally!” Duke announces, hoping over the back of the couch and sprawling out on the soft cushions of the plush couch. Without a second to spare Duke switches the TV on to watch the latest episode of his favourite show.

“Thomas-“

“No talking!” Duke wholesomely announces, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My phone… forget it.” Damian grumbles, seeing Dukes eyes glued to the TV. Squishing further into the cushions, Duke feels the uncomfortable poke of a hard object pressing into his rib.

Wrenching the wretched object from its place, Duke holds a phone. His haphazard fingers pressing into the screen which lights up and shows the text of a person named Y/n.

Y/n: Can’t wait for our date tonight, I miss your handsome face xx

Dukes cheeks heats up, seeing a private message he shouldn’t have seen. Damian is incredibly private and may murder Duke for accidentally learning something he wasn’t suppose to.

Wiping any evidence of his fingers touching the phone Duke places the phone back between the cushions.

Best if he just abandons his show for now for a tactical retreat.

Bruce Wayne

God, why are his kids so weird?

Seriously? Out of all 20 of them, not a single one was normal…

Sitting at the head of the dinner table, he watches his children talk amoungst themselves in weird cryptic speeches.

“Do you know what I know?” Tim asks intensely, the broccoli wedged on his fork, pointing at Dick, who stares back wide-eyed.

“I don’t know anything … why what do you know?” Dick says scanning the rest of the room to see if they somehow knew what Dick was referring to.

“I can’t share what I know, but just know it. Is. Juicy.” Babs announces with a sly and taunting grin.

“I don’t know anything, I didn’t even want to see it. Oh god, I’m feeling queasy.” Jason says crossing his arms over his stomach.

“IDidntSeeAnythingEither.” Duke announces quickly, and begins to quickly Hoover his dinner.

Damian sighs, massaging his temples at his idiotic siblings.

“So I take it that you have all found out about Y/n?” Bruce asks calmly, slowly sawing into the plump steak on his plate.

The room falls dead silent as all heads turn towards Bruce, surprised that he knew and surprised that he had the guts to say what everyone else was thinking.

“Father, how do you know about Y/n?”

“… I’m Batman.”

#dc imagine #dc x reader #batboys #batboys imagine #batboys x reader #Damian Wayne x reader #Damian x reader #Robin x reader #Damian Wayne imagine #Damian imagine

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makoodles · 11 months ago

Text

ミ stay for something

🍓 pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, ex-boyfriend!gaz, unprotected vaginal sex, lack of communication, jealousy, 'just the tip' trope, sex with feelings

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

You hate wasting a Friday night on a first date, but you had genuinely high hopes for this one. You had made such an effort, too; pretty sparkly eyeshadow, strawberry-flavoured lipgloss, a new little black dress.

You look good. You feel good.

It’s just a shame that the guy is a bit of a moron.

He talks about himself a lot over dinner. Like, so much. You sit and smile and pretend to listen, your gaze wandering, and wonder if he’s going to ask any questions about you. He does (eventually), but they’re short and perfunctory and he seems to just take your answers and use them as a springboard into his next topic of discussion.

It’s a little tedious, but hey. First dates usually are. You weather it, your polite smile turning a little stiff as you sip your wine. Truthfully, you have ulterior motives here.

You’re not proud of it, but you don’t think you can handle the dry spell you’re going through anymore. You crave touch, affection, some kind of connection. You’re okay with being single, but god you’re so hungry for intimacy that it’s led to you agreeing to a date with a guy that you honestly wouldn’t have normally been into just for the chance of getting some action.

Ben is a nice enough guy, and he’s certainly good looking; neatly groomed hair, straight white teeth, a nice physique. He’s in good shape, though you can’t help but subconsciously compare him to—

No, you think sternly to yourself, Don’t do that.

When he leans into you at the end of the date and asks in a low, sultry voice if you want to continue the night with him, you agree a little breathlessly. God, it’s been a long time since you were touched.

Your place is closer, and you can’t help but feel a little illicit thrill as you lead Ben back. You never usually bring guys back to yours, especially not on the first date, but you’ll be the first to admit that you’re needy tonight.

The weather is getting colder as winter creeps its icy fingers through the air, but you’re wrapped tight in your coat and kept nice and warm as Ben wraps an arm around your waist, kissing heatedly at your neck as you try to open your door.

You giggle, the wine from dinner making you all loose and happy and eager. You tilt your head to give him more of your throat, and he eagerly takes the opportunity to introduce teeth and tongue as he kisses the line of your neck. You fumble with the key, clumsy as your body heats up.

When you finally manage to turn the key and get the stupid door open, Ben grabs you by the hips and spins you around so that he can pull you into a proper kiss. The guy might have been a dull conversationalist, but you’re delighted to find that he’s a good kisser.

The two of you stumble through the door, your arms locked around his neck as he holds you by the waist. It’s a little embarrassing how eager you are for a guy that you really aren’t even all that into, but you guess that’s just where desperation has gotten you.

“Shit,” Ben hisses when you nip at his lip. “Fuck, you’re so hot. C’mere, take this off.”

He starts tugging at your coat, and you pull back just enough to shrug it off, letting it drop to the floor. He lets out a throaty sound of appreciation, before grabbing at your waist again and leaning in to trail another set of hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

You tilt your head back, thunking lightly against the wall, and your eyelids flutter at the nipping kisses along your sensitive skin.

“Oh, god…” You breathe, blinking your eyes open again.

But then… you pause. For the first time, you notice that the lights in your entryway are on. Why are they on? You hadn’t turned them on when you came in, and you know that they weren’t on when you had left.

Ben is still groping eagerly at your hips, one hand reaching around to squeeze at your ass, but now you’re distracted, on alert. Your eyes dart around, and fall on a pair of Adidas Superstars set neatly by the front door, and a big puffer coat that’s been hung up on the hook in the hall.

Oh no. No fucking way.

As if to confirm the path your thoughts had just taken, your eyes catch on a figure in the doorway to the living room, leaning casually against the doorframe. Just watching.

A scream catches in your throat, and you grab Ben by the shoulders in an attempt to stop him. He doesn’t seem to understand, because he just keeps squeezing at your ass, pulling your hips closer so that he can slot between your legs and grind against you.

The brief spark of arousal that shoots through you when he grinds his hard-on into the seam of your cunt through your underwear is significantly dampened by the awareness that someone is already in your home, watching you, and you already know who it is.

“Hey, baby,” Kyle fucking Garrick says, lifting a mug patterned with little cartoon cats to his mouth. “Had a nice night out?”

“Jesus Christ–” You hiss, shoving at Ben’s chest. This time, the push isn’t needed, because Ben has rocketed up straight at the sound of another man’s voice in your house calling you ‘baby’.

“What the–” Ben starts to say, his brow furrowing into a bewildered frown when he catches sight of Gaz standing in the doorway watching you.

“Kyle, what are you doing here?” You snap, mortified. You grab at the bottom of your short little dress, pulling roughly at it to try and make sure you’re not flashing anyone.

Gaz watches you, amusement shining in his dark eyes. He’s not even trying to hide the way his gaze is drawn to your legs, lingering where your dress has ridden up your thighs. He sips his tea, a poor attempt at concealing his smirk.

“Home from deployment earlier than expected, love.” He says, calm and casual as if he hasn’t just broken into your goddamn house to destroy any hope you had of getting railed that night. “No time to find accommodation. You don’t mind, eh?”

Ben’s head is swinging between the two of you, his expression blank as he tries to work out just what exactly is happening. He’s straightened up entirely, the presence of Gaz obviously putting him on edge. You can’t blame him for his confusion; Gaz is currently looking at you like he wants to fucking eat you alive, and you’re beginning to get hot and flustered under his stare.

“Are you–” Ben starts, his head still on a swivel as though he can’t decide who to address. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

Gaz doesn’t even bother to reply at once. He sips at his tea, and tilts his head as he lets his eyes wander over Ben lazily. It doesn’t seem like he’s all too impressed by what he sees, though he’s smirking as though he’s amused.

“Sergeant Kyle Garrick.” He says at last, with a nod.

You huff. You know what he’s doing – he never introduces himself by his rank unless he’s trying to make a point.

Ben goes stiff. He’s still pressed against you, and you can feel every ounce of tension down the line of your body. It seems like he’s just now clocking Gaz as a proper threat, and you take a breath as you realise that he’s about to split and leave you here.

And sure enough–

“I– Listen, I don’t know what’s.. what’s going on here, but I don’t want any trouble.” Ben says, finally pushing himself away from you. He’s holding his hands up by his shoulders as though he’s being held at gunpoint, and you roll your eyes impatiently at his dramatics.

“No trouble, mate.” Gaz says, his voice still cheerfully amiable. “Door’s behind you.”

“Gaz–” You hiss, incensed, but it’s pointless.

Ben is already scrambling to open the door, heedless of the way you grasp onto his coat in protest. You sigh heavily as he tumbles out into the cold night, and the door slams shut behind him so loud it makes your head hurt.

You stand alone in your entryway, shivering a little in your tiny black dress and heels from the icy breeze that was let in from Ben’s escape. Your jaw is clenched tight, and you take a deep, deep breath as you turn to face your ex-boyfriend.

Gaz is still watching you, his deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath his long dark lashes. You try hard to ignore his expression, which is unmistakably hungry.

“You look good, baby.” He says, staring pointedly at the way your breasts are all pushed up in your tight dress.

“Don’t call me that.” You grumble, teaching down to unbuckle your delicate heels. You cast them aside and kick them over so they’re laying beside Gaz’s runners.

Gaz just snickers, turning to follow after you when you march your way to the kitchen. Irritation is burning hot in your veins, your lips pursed as you struggle to bite your tongue. It’s so fucking typical that the exact night you try to have some cheap, meaningless sex with some stranger, Gaz has decided to land right into your home. It’s like he has a fucking radar for when you’re about to get laid.

“You could have gotten a hotel.” You snap over your shoulder as you make your way to the kettle. It’s already hot, but you flick the switch again anyway.

“Nah. They’re all booked out. Busy season, you know.”

God, he’s so full of shit. You both know he never even considered staying anywhere other than with you, just like the last few times.

Still, you persevere.

“You could have stayed with one of the guys.” You say, turning around and folding your arms over your chest.

Gaz glances down, and you realise that you’ve inadvertently pushed your breasts together and up. You hastily drop your arms again, and settle instead for planting your hands on your hips.

“Could have,” He admits, leaning against your kitchen table in a way that’s infuriatingly casual. “But they never offered.”

“Neither did I–!”

Gaz doesn’t even seem to hear you. He just steps towards you, reaching to grab an empty mug from the cupboard above your head. The movement brings him so close to you, close enough that your next inhale is scented with his fresh-sweet cologne, the one you always loved, and you find your eyelids fluttering as your muscles relax without your permission. He smells so familiar, so comforting. You hate it.

“Go get changed,” He murmurs, keeping his voice low like he knows the moment is delicate. “We’ll watch a movie.”

You’d love to get fired up, to shove him or curse at him, but it’s all you can do to find the strength to step away from him instead of melting into him. You’re pretty sure he deserves an ass-kicking for this stunt of this, but you decide to pick your battles. Or at least, to postpone them.

You waver another moment, debating over whether you should try to get the last say, but Gaz has already turned away to continue making the cup of tea that you had started. Recognising that the moment has passed, you huff a sigh and march out of the kitchen, making your way to your bedroom.

It takes quite a bit of wiggling to get out your dress – it might look good, but there’s an inordinate sense of relief when you finally tug it over your head and feel as though you can breathe unimpeded again. You unclip your bra and toss it aside, rolling your shoulders and sighing as your breasts are freed.

Once you're dressed again in a worn-out massive t-shirt that drowns your body and some loose sweatpants, looking decidedly unsexy, you pad to your bathroom and start washing your makeup off. Now that you’re alone, that disappointment and frustration is settling in properly. Ben might have been boring, but if his kissing was anything to judge by, you might actually have had a perfectly enjoyable night with him.

Bare-faced and dressed for lounging in bed, you trudge back downstairs to your ex-boyfriend. It’s far from the way you wanted to end your night, but you’ve resigned yourself to your fate. You can hear the muffled sounds from the television as you make your way downstairs, and you redirect yourself towards your small sitting room.

Gaz is sat sprawled on the couch, his legs spread wide as he makes himself comfortable in your home. Something twists in your stomach at how comfy he looks, as though he belongs there. He looks around when you walk in, though your footsteps are quiet and muffled by your fluffy socks.

You look far from sexy right now in your ugly old loungewear and bare face, but Gaz brightens up at the sight of you.

“There she is.” He crows, though there’s something soft in his gaze that you can hardly face. “C’mon, love. Want to pick what we’re watching?”

You just look at him tiredly. He’s as handsome as ever; the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. He must have come straight here once he’d gotten back from deployment because his eyes are dark and exhausted and stubble is a little more overgrown than usual. You hate that he’s able to come into your space like this so easily – like he’s never left.

“Gaz–” You start to say, but you’re cut off when he reaches for your hand.

He tugs you towards him, and you put a knee hastily up on the couch to prevent yourself from falling flat into his lap.

“Shhh, c’mon. Just sit with me.” He murmurs, looking up at you with those damn pretty eyes.

You waver, but then you turn your head to the side and catch sight of the second cup of tea sitting on the coffee table. Gaz has made it just how you like it, and in your favourite mug too. You crumble almost instantly.

“Stick to your side of the couch.” You grumble, before dropping yourself down heavily onto the sofa next to him.

Gaz hums, and you can already tell that he has no intention of following that order. His arm is already sprawled over the back of the couch; it’s not touching you, but you have no doubt that he’ll try to before the end of the night.

He sticks on some stupid movie on Netflix. You don’t pay attention. It’s a rom-com, which is typical. He always pretends he chooses the sappy romantic films for your benefit, but you’re not fooled. You see the way he watches them with avid interest, the way his toes curl in his socks when the big love confession scene comes on screen. It’s always been something that you’re impossibly fond of.

The two of you are silent for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. Part of you wishes that it was awkward – it would be easier, you think. But he makes it so simple, sitting with him like this as the cheesy film plays in the background. You’re still a little tipsy from the drinks you’d had at dinner, and you melt into the couch beside him a little quicker than you think you would have otherwise.

“You ruined my night, you know.” You say at last, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

To your surprise, he’s already looking at you. You glance away hastily again, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Nah,” He says, and you feel his arm dip down a little. He’s cupping your shoulders now, and you should probably move away, but you don’t. “If anything, I saved you from having a long, disappointing night with some tosser you agreed to pity-date. He didn’t exactly look like your type, darling.”

“He was a perfectly nice guy.” You bite out, crossing your arms defensively over your belly in your big t-shirt.

“Nice guys don’t end the first date by groping your ass and humping you up against your wall in your own house.” He says, and if you’re not mistaken you’d say he sounds a little bitter.

You cast a sideways glance at him. He’s sitting up, watching you closely and leaning just slightly towards you. He’s so intense about the way he’s looking at you, his arm dipping low so that he’s holding you properly.

“Stop it.” You say. It hardly even sounds like a proper protest. You’re so tired, still a little floaty from the wine you’d had at dinner, and desperately disappointed by the lack of sexual satisfaction you had been hoping for.

There’s a pause, and then Gaz gives a small shrug. He pulls his arm back to give you space, but he still has that stupid smirk on his face. You can’t even be angry about the cockiness of his expression when his eyes are that soft though.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He murmurs. “I’m not being fair, am I?”

“No,” You say petulantly. “You’re not.”

He huffs a noise that’s almost a laugh, only he manages to stifle it so that it comes out as a cough instead.

“Mm. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to ruin your big date night, especially when you got done up so pretty for it,” He murmurs, his voice low and sweet as honey trickling down your spine. “Let me make up for it. Come on, get over here.”

You hesitate, but Gaz isn’t really giving you an option. He begins to shift, one of his strong muscled arms looping around your waist as he pulls you into him. It takes you a long moment to realise what it is that he’s trying to do. He lays back on the couch and pulls you with him, encouraging you to pull your legs up onto the sofa so that the two of you are laying on your sides, with Gaz spooned up against your back.

It’s definitely a bad idea to cuddle with him on the couch like this. You’re trying to set boundaries, to make it clear that you’re just friends (if you can even call it that) after your breakup. And yet… you don’t offer any sort of protest at all.

“Relax,” Gaz sighs from behind you, and you feel his nose nuzzle against the back of your neck. “You love cuddling.”

You roll your eyes, turning your head slightly so he can see the unimpressed expression on your face.

“This isn’t enough to make up for being such a dick.” You grumble. Despite your griping, you don’t actually make any attempt to get out of his arms.

He was right, after all. You do love cuddling. It was your favourite thing to do when you were together.

But you’re not together anymore, and it’s hard to ignore the gnawing guilt that you’re letting this grow into something that should be avoided instead of nipping it in the bud. You and Gaz had broken up months ago, and it was a perfectly amicable split. You can’t even say that he was at fault for any of it; the strain of the long distance part of your relationship while he was on deployment just grew too much for you, the space his absence left filling with brambled loneliness that pricked incessantly at you. You had known what you were getting into with this relationship with him, and yet when it came down to it you got too greedy, wanting more of him than he was able to give.

Tonight was a moment of weakness for you, and though your hopes for sex may have been thwarted, you can’t turn down the soft familiar intimacy of Gaz’s strong body cradling you close against him.

Maybe it’s the wine you had at dinner, but you find your muscles relaxing a little as one of Gaz’s arms loops around your waist, his big hand coming to rest across your belly.

“Mm. I’m being selfish, love.” He murmurs, and you fight a shiver as his warm breath ghosts over the delicate shell of your ear. “This is more for me than for you.”

You’re not altogether sure that’s true. It’s certainly doing an awful lot for you right now. Gaz is in just a t-shirt, the muscles of his biceps bunching up under his bare skin as he tries to subtly nudge you closer to him.

You’ve missed being all wrapped up in the warm embrace of him; he cuddles with his whole body, the front of his thighs all pressed against the back of yours, his strong chest moulding to your back as his face nuzzles against the back of your neck. You always feel so safe when he holds you like this, like he’s blocking out the rest of the world for you. You can only guess he feels the same – he holds you that much tighter every time he gets back home from his missions.

You grumble quietly, but soon settle down. The repetitive stroking motion of his thumb over your hip is more soothing than it should be. You take deep breaths, trying to be subtle about it, because all you can smell is Gaz and his citrusy sweet aftershave and you just want to drown in it.

“You can’t keep doing this.” You mumble, though all the fight has gone out of you. “It’s not… helpful.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Gaz shifts behind you. His arm tightens around your waist almost imperceptibly, as though he thinks you’re going to push him away. But you’re being selfish now too, comfortably wrapped up against his chest.

“We said we’d stay friends,” He says at last, and he’s so close that you can feel his lips move against the back of your neck as he speaks. “Nothin’ wrong with some platonic cuddling. You should see how close me an’ Soap have had to cuddle to conserve heat when we’re out on the field.”

You huff a small laugh, which is obviously what he had been hoping for. Platonic cuddling. This certainly doesn’t feel platonic, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away. You’ve been craving this kind of closeness for months now, so you just let yourself reluctantly enjoy it. It would have been so much easier if you were able to enjoy it with Ben, with someone who meant nothing to you and wouldn’t have brought with him such a complicated web of feelings and history, but there’s a real sense of comfort in the familiarity of Gaz’s presence.

The film Gaz had chosen to stick on is a stupid one. It’s half action, half love story, with a strong rugged hero and a too-beautiful love-interest whose main role seems to be throwing out quips for comedic relief. You’ve seen a hundred versions of this plot play out in other films, though Gaz is predictably glued to the screen. He’s always loved these stupid films.

You’re comfortable enough that you fall into a light doze, uninterested in the television as you relish the heat from Gaz’s chest. He’s like a fucking human radiator, so hot that you can feel a thin dew of sweat begin to break out along your spine. It chases away the chill of the night and makes you so sleepy.

You’re almost asleep when movement from behind you jolts you back to wakefulness. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve imagined it. Then Gaz moves again, and this time it’s unmistakable.

Gaz is hard, the thick ridge of him impossible to miss as he presses against your ass. You’re awake instantly, the slight tipsiness from dinner vanishing into thin air. You’re on high alert, eyes darting back to the television to see what the fuck has aroused him, but there’s nothing of note happening onscreen. It’s just a conversation between characters, exposition setting up the next stage of the plot.

“Gaz,” You say, and your voice comes out louder than you had intended. “Stop humping my ass.”

You’re half-expecting him to deny it, but he just huffs a quiet snort, his nose nuzzling against the back of your neck.

“Sorry, love.” He says, though he doesn’t sound sorry in the least. “Can’t help it. Missed you loads.”

You can feel his cock even through the layers of your clothing, and you swallow hard. God, you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him, though it doesn’t seem like the right time to admit it. How are you ever supposed to get over each other if he keeps coming to stay with you every time he gets back from wherever in God’s name he’s been, when he holds you so sweetly and talks to you like you’re still his girl?

His hips rock into you in a movement that’s almost imperceptible, except you’re waiting for it. His hands are gripping your waist, his fingers curling into the soft flesh there. He’s always enjoyed the way your body yields to him, so much softer than the hard planes of muscle that make up his own, and it’s no surprise that he goes straight back to holding onto his favourite parts of you even as he ruts against your ass.

“Jesus, Gaz–” You start to complain, but your voice is a little too breathy to be convincingly angry.

“Stop that,” He murmurs, his lips pressing against the side of your neck. “You never call me that.”

That is true – after the breakup, calling him Kyle just seemed too intimate. It’s a name that usually falls from your lips with care, in soft whispers made for dark rooms and quiet moments. His callsign offers distance, reminds you both that what you had is in the past. Or that it should be in the past, at least.

“Kyle,” You concede tiredly. “You dickhead.”

He just hums. He knows you well enough to know that you’re not really angry; you’re not even attempting to move away from him, though you know you should. The film is mostly forgotten in the background, though you’re vaguely aware that the two characters onscreen have now progressed to confessing their love before the big final battle. You just sigh; this little romantic film moment is only going to encourage Gaz even more.

Yet still, you don’t move.

The way he’s grinding his thick cock against the swell of your ass is making your blood run hot. The pressure every time his hips roll lightly against you and the way that he uses his grip on your hips to pull you back against him is making your brain all stupid and fuzzy. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way you shift, the way you allow your bum to brush back against him. It earns you a soft little grunt that’s mostly muffled by the way he’s mouthing at your throat.

Oh, it would be so easy to slip the sweatpants that separates the two of you down, to allow him to slide into you. A little woozily, you think it would feel like he was coming home.

But to actually have sex feels like too much of a commitment, too confusing a step to take when things between you two were already muddled and confused enough. You’re almost afraid to even turn around to glance over your shoulder at him, as though making eye contact might mean you’ll both wake up and stop.

Gaz’s cock has gotten even harder, filling out thickly as he slots against the clothed groove of your ass. He’s not even touching your pussy, and yet your knickers are slick and sticky. It’s embarrassing at your age to be laying on the couch, watching a movie and getting dry-humped like a fucking teenager, and yet your skin feels as though it’s been lit aflame.

Then rustling fabric breaks the silence, and Gaz shifts a little behind you in an odd motion as the insistent pressure on your ass is finally relieved. In its absence, you’re almost disappointed.

You tilt your head, just barely turning it, just enough to see that he’s just pulled out his cock.

“Kyle–”

“Sorry, baby,” He says again, panting against the side of your neck and making you shiver. “– ‘m just too hard, getting uncomfortable. Ignore it.”

Ignore it? You think, a little hysterically. The gentle rocking of his erection into your ass was one thing, but how the fuck are you supposed to ignore the fact that your ex is all pressed up against you, still holding you by the waist with one hand as the other fists at his cock.

You glance behind you and down before you can help yourself, your self-control as lacking as ever. Fuck. You’ve missed the sight of that. He has the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, even if right now it’s flushed dark and angry and painful looking. Your mouth waters. He was obviously telling the truth when he said it was getting sore, and you feel a reluctant swell of sympathy.

“Been thinking of you for months, baby.” He murmurs, placing a wet, messy kiss on your throat. “I can’t even fucking cum properly when you’re not around, it’s not the fucking same. God, even missed the way you smell–”

As if to punctuate that, he presses his nose in your hair and inhales deeply. You know you smell like the sweet perfume you had sprayed earlier, your favourite one. You know from experience that it’s also Gaz’s favourite one. You tell yourself it’s a coincidence.

“Why didn’t you fuck someone else then? Get it out of your system?” You say, and it comes out a little harsh, a little raw. It reveals more than you want to; you feel a little ill at the thought of Gaz with some faceless girl, holding her and making her laugh, her hands touching him like you do.

If Gaz picks up on the bite in your voice, he’s kind enough to ignore it. He just huffs a quick snort like the suggestion is ridiculous, his sloppy mouthing at your neck turning into a chaste affectionate kiss that feels totally at odds with the desperate motions of his hand pumping at his cock.

“Why would I do that when I had a girl waiting for me at home?” He asks, his voice so soft with you. “Never wanted anyone else.”

Your toes curl, guilt coiling in your stomach. You hate that you feel pleased that he’s waited for you, that he doesn’t want anyone else. You’re not being fair – it had been you who had broken it off, after all. He should be able to get with whoever he wants to. Conceivably, he is allowed to. Yet you can’t pretend that you wouldn’t have been sick to your stomach if he admitted that he had.

God, you feel like such a hypocrite. Here you are, admittedly all too happy that Gaz has stayed faithful to a relationship that isn’t even intact anymore, and there he is, having just witnessed you come home with a stranger’s hands all over you.

“We’re not together anymore.” You whisper, when what you want to say is I’m sorry.

“I know.” Gaz replies, and it sounds like For now.

It’s not a surprise when the hand on your waist slips around to your belly, and then lower again as it slips beneath the waistband of your bottoms. You try and fail to suppress the wet gasp that’s pulled from your throat when his long fingers coast over the front of your knickers, finding your clothed clit with unerring accuracy.

“Oh, lace, baby?” He says, his breath catching in his eagerness before realisation seems to set in. “Oh. This was for your little date, eh?”

The guilt again, gnawing in your chest. You arch your back, simultaneously shying away and crowding your ass back up against him. It’s mortifying, being caught with your fancy underwear beneath your baggy unflattering sweatpants by your ex-boyfriend and having him know without a shadow of a doubt that you intended them to be seen by someone else.

“I was–” You start to say breathily, but Gaz doesn’t let you finish.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” He murmurs, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. “I know, I know. But he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you. Jesus, he didn’t even know what he fuckin’ had, ran like a coward–”

“Gaz–” You try again. You can’t help but feel as though you need to explain yourself, like the two of you should talk this through.

“You’re so soft, Jesus Christ.” He mutters, the side of his hand rubbing at the squishy flesh of your thighs as he strokes at your clit. “Were you always this soft?”

It sounds as though he’s trying to remember, desperate and wanting. You swallow thickly, closing your eyes as that familiar pleasure licks up your spine. He knows you so well, knows every part of you and exactly how to touch you, and you can hardly believe you ever entertained letting anyone else put their hands on you.

“I got a new body oil.” You breathe, distracted by his touch. “It’s– it’s vanilla scented.”

“Yeah,” He groans, and you shiver helplessly when you feel his tongue on your neck, licking a hot stripe up to your earlobe. “I can smell it.”

His index and middle fingers are so firm on either side of your clit, rolling circles around it without actually touching you properly. You sigh, back arching, but before you can actually enjoy it his hands are pulling away.

“Wait–” You gasp, your body crying out in protest as Gaz stops, pulling his hand back out of your pants.

Gaz just grunts, kisses your neck once more, then tugs your sweatpants down. You lift your hips up immediately, thoughtlessly, and then kick your sweats and knickers off impatiently. It’s a little embarrassing, especially when the cool air hits your slick, sticky thighs and you shiver.

“Oh god, fuck,” He groans, his plush lips dragging along the sensitive skin at the back of your neck. “You’ve ruined yourself, baby.”

It’s embarrassing to admit it, but it’s true. The dry spell you’ve experienced since the breakup has been little more than a mild inconvenience for the most part, but now it feels like your body is charged like a live wire. It feels like you’ve never been touched before, and you squirm backwards in an attempt to get any kind of friction again.

“Kyle–” You start to complain, but you don’t get to finish because then Gaz is slotting his cock in between your thighs.

He groans, taking a breath as he shuffles his hips closer. His pretty, glistening cock is wedged between the soft pudge of your thighs, the head of it nudging against the wet folds of your cunt every time he twitches.

“Let me put the tip in, baby.” He says, his voice gruff and wanting in your ear. “Literally just the tip, that’s it, huh? It’s not like actual fucking, right?”

In this moment, you think you’d agree to anything to get his dick into you. You had been all kinds of wound up even before you had come home to find Gaz waiting for you, but it’s like your body had some kind of Pavlovian response to Gaz’s touch because now you’re practically panting for him.

He’s right, after all. It’s not really fucking. It means that you can maintain the flimsy thin pretence that this means nothing.

“Okay.” You manage to say, though it comes out humiliatingly breathy. “Yeah, okay, the tip–”

Gaz’s cock is pressing into you before you can even finish your sentence, bullying into the wet grasping tightness of your cunt and making you gasp.

You’ve gone long enough without getting laid that there’s a slight sting as he presses into you, but it’s overshadowed by the breathless relief. God, you’d forgotten how fucking good his dick felt inside you. He knows just how to use it too, and you wheeze slightly as he rocks an inch inside before pulling back again.

“Oh, fuck, baby.” Gaz moans throatily, the vibration of it rumbling right down your spine. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight.”

“Mph,” You manage to make a muffled sort of sound against the couch cushion your face is pressed against, your mouth hanging softly open as you pant for breath.

True to his word, Gaz just presses the first inch or so inside. You almost hold your breath, waiting for the rest to slide inside and split you open, but he doesn’t. He just rocks back and forth, just missing hitting the spot inside that makes your nerves sing.

You wish, stupidly, fervently, that just this once Gaz would go back on his word. That he’d abandon his promise to just stick that first inch of his cock inside, that he’d slam home and stretch you wide and let his cock brush against the nerves just a little deeper inside you. But that’s not Gaz’s style; you know he’s not going to give you any more unless you beg for it.

Gaz rocks his hips in teeny tiny movements, just enough to have you squirming in frustration. You’re so wet that you know he could slide deeper with ease if he only just tilted his hips right, but he remains doggedly steadfast in pumping just the barest inch into you, groaning with the effort it’s taking to stop himself plunging fully inside.

“Oh god,” He breathes, sounding wrecked in your ear. “You feel even better than I remember.”

You don’t know how he can even say that when he’s barely even inside you, but no matter how much you wiggle and squirm, he just won’t slide any deeper.

“You’re such an asshole.” You slur out against the fabric of the couch, your cheek squished against the cushions. Your chin is a little wet – are you drooling?

Infuriatingly, Gaz doesn’t even argue.

“Mm.” He grunts, kissing the curve of your neck. “What’d I do this time?”

The fact that he has the gall to ask only irritates you further. You let out a quiet, grumbling noise, but his hand grips at your hip and stops you from writhing.

“Just… just put the rest of it in.” You say, craning your neck to try and look at him.

Your eyes are wide and wet, pathetically teary. You’ve been craving intimacy like this for weeks now. Maybe longer, if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s the kind of pleasure you’ve only ever gotten from Gaz, and you wheeze as your body opens up under his touch. God, you don’t know how you thought anyone would ever be able to fuck you like Gaz does.

“Mm, you sure, baby?” He murmurs, nosing against the back of your skull. “Thought we were just cuddling.”

“Don’t be a dick.” You snap, your patience reaching the end of its tether.

He just laughs, a breathless sort of amused gasp, before snapping his hips forward in one sharp movement and seating his cock inside you. Though it’s what you had been demanding, the abruptness of it startles you and you yowl, your back arching.

“Sh, sh, shh, sorry, love.” Gaz pants, before sighing in wordless contentment as his broad chest curves around your back, his strong arm looping around your belly. “Oh, fuck. Missed this so much, you have no idea. I swear you were made for me, I couldn’t fit as well inside anyone else.”

“Just– just move.” You whine, a little plaintive. It’s humiliating how desperate you are, but there’s no turning back now. “Please, Kyle–”

Gaz pitches into movement instantly, as though he’s got something to prove. Or maybe he’s just worried that you’re going to change your mind. His hips pull back then snap forward again, and again.

He’s so strong, his rhythm steady enough to rock you wildly back and forth on the lumpy couch cushions. You clutch at the fabric beneath you, gasping as his arm pulls you back and keeps you pinned against his hot, hard chest.

“Oh.” You breathe, tilting your head back with a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into you from behind, the two of you plastered together like sardines in the tiny can that is your sitting room couch.

This is just what you needed, you think a little wildly. God, you’ve been craving physical touch like this for months, since the last time you had seen Gaz. It’s galling to admit that any other man is a poor substitute, unable to fill the void that your ex-boyfriend has left in your life.

“Kyle,” You whine, searching for something. You don’t even know what you’re asking for, but Gaz is as patient with you as ever.

He just hums, leaning in over your shoulder and pressing hot, hungry kisses along your jawline where it’s exposed as you lean your head back. The arm that’s been wrapped around your belly coasts lower, until his big lovely hand is pressed against your cunt. His fingers search for your clit and find it easily, confident and familiar enough with your body that he barely even has to try to make you feel good.

Gaz coos soothingly at you and rolls your clit between his fingers as his thrusts begin to come faster and harder; he builds up a steady rhythm, one that lets him sink as deep inside of you as possible and quickly renders you speechless. The living room is soon filled with wet slapping sounds from where Gaz is pounding into you from behind, the grunts and pants and moans that both of you make rapidly drowning out the stupid action sequence playing out on the television from the long forgotten film.

Unbelievably, you feel a sweet stirring in your lower belly already. It’s with a sense of tired resignation that you acknowledge you’re going to come on Gaz’s dick, despite your original intentions for the evening. Typical.

But he’s not going to last either, judging by the strained moans in your ear.

“Shit,” He curses, and then his teeth sink into the side of your neck. You shudder, the feeling of him sucking a harsh hickey into your throat sending electric sparks racing through your nerves.

You think, judging from the desperate edge to Gaz’s humping into you from behind, that Gaz has been yearning in your absence in the same way you have for him. You’re biting on your lip hard in an effort to stifle the plaintive, wanting little moans that are threatening to spill over, but your attempts at quieting yourself are mostly unsuccessful. It makes you feel a little crazy, but Gaz doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, the evidence that you want him too only seems to encourage him.

Your eyes are half-closed as you fuck your hips back on Gaz’s cock, relishing the satisfied little cries he’s emitting into the back of your neck. You clutch clumsily at the strong arm he has wrapped around your belly, crying out yourself as the head of his cock hits that one spot inside you that makes you feel gooey inside. Your toes curl as your head tips back, your skull neatly cradled in the space between Gaz’s head and the couch cushions as he peppers kisses along the side of your neck.

The wet slapping of your bodies colliding is obscene in the quiet of the room; the stupid film still playing does nothing to drown it out. Your body is as limp and relaxed as a doll, allowing him to fuck into you from behind in a frenzy. Right now, you can’t even recall why you ever would have tried to deny yourself this pleasure in the first place.

His hips clap against your ass, those wet sounds getting even louder and more obscene than ever. Gaz is viscerally pleased with the way your ass bounces every time he fucks into you, because he moans and picks up the pace as if he just wants to watch your glutes jiggle every time his hips slap against you.

That familiar ball of tension starts tightening in your abdomen, your body winding up for a long-awaited and much needed release. It’s so typical that this orgasm feels like it’s going to be a big one too, as though your body needed Gaz to be there to guide you through it in order to achieve proper satisfaction.

But then, in a move so infuriating you almost burst into tears, Gaz pulls out and leaves you high and dry.

“No!” You blurt, and it comes out almost as a wail. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, baby.” Gaz says a little breathlessly. “Need you to turn over. Want to see you.”

As soon as you realise that he’s not trying to stop and that he’s just trying to reposition you, you’re quick to roll over so that you’re facing him. It seems like that’s exactly what he wanted, because he grins wide and reaches for your hips, eagerly pulling you closer.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He mumbles, his eyes like warm caramelised honey as they track over your face.

You’re pretty sure he’s full of shit; you’re panting like you’ve run a marathon, you’re sweaty, your hair is dishevelled, and you’re still wearing the ugly sweatshirt you had put on earlier. Yet, even still, Gaz’s genuine little compliment has your heart flipping in your ribcage.

You can’t help but think that you and Gaz are like feral little animals right now. You can barely keep your hands off each other; now that you’ve rolled over to face him, his hands are roaming over your hips and ass like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you by touch alone.

Embarrassingly, you’re no better – you lunge forward to kiss him, taking advantage of your new position, and he kisses you back hungrily.

Lying sideways on the couch like this is cramped, but Gaz uses his hand on your ass to tug you closer. Then he reaches down, long fingers gripping at your thigh before he pulls it up so that your leg is hitched over his hip.

Oh no, You barely have time to think it before his cock is pressing into you again, the slide made easy this time. Too intimate!

The panicked thought is swiftly dispelled the moment Gaz starts moving again, because goddamn this position is so much better. It’s almost difficult to tell where Gaz ends and you begin, so intertwined are your bodies. Gaz barely even allows for an inch of space. He fucks into you almost as soon as he’s pulled back, making for a fast, frantic pace that barely even gives you a chance to breathe.

You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you rock your hips mindlessly into his rough, almost animalistic thrusts. Your leg hitched over his hip means that he’s grinding into you deep, deeper than you thought was possible.

The way the two of you are fucking feels a little bit unhinged, rutting and humping your bodies together in search of mutual pleasure. It should be clumsy and graceless, yet somehow it feels good, as though your body remembers exactly how good Gaz has always treated you, as though your whole being is having a Pavlovian response to his touch. Pleasure burns in your gut, tight and hot, and you moan stupidly as Gaz pounds into you.

“Oh god.” You say without meaning to. The sound of your voice shocks you; you sound wrecked, as though you’ve been fucking for hours. It would have been embarrassing to reveal just how affected you were if Gaz wasn’t also clearly just as eager for it.

“Yeah,” He says, a hybrid of a groan and a gasp muffled against your lips as he clutches at your ass and drives into you wildly. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You are too, you realise wildly. You’re struck by how quickly you’ve both gotten to this point. This whole encounter has been frenzied and feverish, as though the poorly stifled desire between you had turned explosive.

Gaz kisses you again, and his teeth clack against yours slightly as he licks into your mouth. It’s messy and wet, and it sends a delicious throb of pleasure shooting through your belly. He’s acting so possessive that it’s making your head spin. It should definitely be sending warning bells ringing in your head, or red alarms flashing in your minds eye – it can’t be a good thing that your ex-boyfriend is currently fucking you on your couch like he’s trying to claim you. But you’re apparently a little stupid and very weak, and Gaz has always known how to fuck you dopey and thoughtless. Instead of worry, you get the edges of an orgasm beginning to fizz in your peripheral awareness.

Your pussy must flutter or tighten around him as that lovely sweet promise of release edges closer, because Gaz moans in anticipation and his eager thrusts take on an edge of purpose. You almost protest when he breaks off the kiss, but then you realise that he just wants to be able to focus on keeping his rhythm steady. It’s frenzied and hot, and you swear the air itself is crackling as he kisses sloppily at your neck and fucks you hard.

“Love you,” He slurs in your ear, breathless. “Love you so much, baby.”

His thrusts turn more shallow and far more forceful the closer he gets. Little moans and whines escape his lips between kisses, the sounds ratcheting up in intensity as the two of you rut together.

“Tell me you love me,” He pleads, “Please— tell me you fuckin’ love me, baby. I know you do. I know you—”

You shouldn’t say it. You can’t say it. Yet his cock is fucking you sloppy and stupid, and your mouth moves before you even register that you’re speaking.

“Love you too,” You whimper like a pathetic little idiot, revelling in the exquisite feeling of him grinding against your g-spot just right. It feels so good, you know you’re so, so close to orgasm.

The ache in your abdomen persists— you clench tightly around his cock, your body straining as the muscles in your core clench, trying so hard to push yourself closer to the orgasm you know is coming. You’re so close, so so close— it burns, aches, drives you mad. All you can do is mewl, wrapping your arms around his muscled shoulders as he pounds into you despite the awkward angle.

You can feel your clit throbbing, pulsing, your entire body trying so goddamn hard to climax that you feel like you’re about to cry. You’re burning beneath your skin and all you want to do is gnash your teeth into the elegant line of Gaz’s throat, to leave some kind of indelible mark on his lovely smooth skin.

“Please, please, please— yes, fuck— oh, Kyle,” Your words come out on the breath of an uneven gasp, stuttering with each movement of his hips, perfectly synchronized.

His voice is low and hot in your ear as he pants, “Let me come inside you, baby— let me, please— fuck.”

You should say no. Every logical part of you knows that you should tell him to pull out, and yet the wires are crossed when it comes to your actual response. Your leg tightens around his waist, heart seizing in protest at the idea of him pulling out.

“Yes.” You gasp, continuing your streak of impulsive decision-making. Your own hips twitch forward in weak little humps in an effort to fuck yourself onto his cock, your clit grinding against the dark curls at his pubic bone. “Yes, inside, please–”

Your breathy, eager permission seems to give him a burst of energy. He picks up the pace, his body curving into you as his arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. It feels as though your entire world has been narrowed down to Gaz, his broad shoulders blocking out your view of the rest of the room. You cling to him, breathless and messy as you whimper like a loser, your body trembling from the toe-curling zings of pleasure that keep shooting up your spine.

“Oh, oh.. Kyle, please–” You practically sob, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders. “Love you, love you, oh my god, I’m gonna come–”

Gaz grunts, obviously eager as his movements grow thoughtful and determined. He knows exactly what you want, what you need at this moment. His abdominal muscles tense and flex with every calculated, deliberate thrust. There is no way to escape the length of him moving hard and thick inside you – not that you want to escape so much as a second of it, of course.

“That’s my girl, always so fucking perfect.” He snarls as your body eagerly takes every dirty roll of his hips, palming at your thigh where it’s hitched over his hip. “Fuckin’ Christ, I’ve been dreaming of your cunt for fucking months, never wanted anything else–”

It makes no sense. Absolutely no sense, that those bizarre, lust-crazed possessive words are what drag you trembling, screaming over the crest of an orgasm so intense the walls of the room white out, each sweeping pulse leaving you unable to do anything but clench and shudder and arch beneath him.

Gaz fucks you like a damn machine; he gives you long, deep strokes over and over as you’re falling apart. Your body seizes around the hot flesh of Gaz’s cock, your mind going white as your cunt spasms, your hole clamping down and pulsing with every desperate, loud moan torn from your mouth.

You feel like a sloppy little slut, your hips jerking towards him instead of away even as your orgasm washes through you and leaves your body tender and oversensitive. It feels so damn good to feel your mind washing blank and clear, not a single thought taking hold.

When the toe-curling height of pleasure subsides, you find your nerves frayed and hyper-sensitive. A plaintive whine breaks out of your throat as Gaz keeps fucking you, beginning to thrust up frantically into your twitching pussy. Your body falls limp as Gaz bounces your pliable, warm body up and down his cock as he groans into your ear.

It’s like the rhythmic tightening of your drooling, creaming cunt has him losing his mind, because he grabs the meat of your hips and begins jerking your limp body back towards him. The slap slap slap! of the impact is so loud that every slap makes your breath catch.

“Fuck. I'm—” Your hands slap clumsily at his shoulders, reaching for anything to hold on to, but he doesn’t stop. "Kyle. Kyle—" It’s just your voice, hoarse, breathless, and Gaz bearing down on you, the sound of your bodies somehow growing sloppier, messier as he fucks you and it’s uncompromising, just skirting the edge of painfully overwhelming—

He breaks, shoulders trembling, head bowed into the curve of your neck as he lets out a long, desperate moan. It’s a drawn out, rough groan that is more sob than pleasure, and then you feel him inside you, spilling red hot and wet. Your own orgasm still isn’t fully finished, rolling leisurely through you in little aftershocks, your body still tightening and shivering, and it goes on and on and on.

He holds on to you throughout, as if he’s worried he’ll blow away into the wind without anchoring himself to you. His hips slow, but don’t fully stop. He rolls his hips into you slowly, leisurely, as though he has all the time in the world as he shivers in his come down. You blink, waiting for the colour to bleed back into your vision and for the ringing in your ears to stop, and for the first time all night you’re not thinking about anything at all.

“Please, Kyle.” You slur out stupidly. You have no idea what you’re even asking for; there’s just some vague, barely formed desperation floating around your painfully blank mind as you search for something.

“Mm.” Gaz hums. It feels like he’s everywhere, his broad chest filling up your sight and enveloping you. His hands roam over your body: the backs of your thighs, squeezing as his hands drift over your ass, up and down your back, your neck, his fingers catching around the thin strands of hair and the back of your neck, until finally he settles his fingers on your cheeks.

His palms stay there, just cupping your cheeks as the two of you struggle to regulate your breathing and regain your composure. That antsy sense of desperation eases a little when he leans in to nuzzle fondly at your face, dropping sweet little kisses along your cheeks and nose.

Gaz’s chest rumbles with a low, lovely laugh, his voice gravelly from his climax. “You’re overflowing, sweetheart.”

You let out a careless little sigh, before relaxing experimentally. You can feel a gush of warm seed begin to ooze out around Gaz’s cock, spilling out of your entrance and coating his balls. You wriggle lazily, cunt still pulsing as your wildly beating heart gradually slows to a lazy flutter.

You think you should probably be panicking now. You’ve just fucked your ex, told him you loved him, then let him come inside. With no condom. God, you’re stupid. But the wave of horror you’re expecting never comes. You feel too floaty to care; you suspect if it was anyone other than Gaz, the mortification would have knocked into you like a sledgehammer.

“You’re gonna get cum on the couch.” You complain, the words coming out clumsy on your tongue.

Gaz just snorts. He makes no effort to pull out, and you have no desire to push him away. The intimacy of your sweat-slick skin pressed together is enough to take your breath away, and it’s only further compounded by the sensation of his cock gradually softening inside you.

“I’ll get it cleaned, love.” He drawls lazily, leaning in to kiss your swollen lips. “Or pay for a new one. Whichever you want.”

When you kiss him back he sighs fondly, one thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You’re still limp in his arms, boneless and spent as you wriggle greedily into his arms. His cock is still lodged inside you, and you’re sure he must be getting uncomfortably sensitive but to your relief he just moans in quiet appreciation when you try to worm your way closer.

“You made a mess.” You mumble against his lips.

You’re being a little unfair, considering your own slick is coating your thighs and Gaz’s lower belly, but Gaz has always rolled with even the most unreasonable attitude you’ve thrown his way. So he just chuckles, and you feel a little insane as you wonder if anyone else would ever be as patient with you.

“Think we both did, doll.” He murmurs fondly. He leans in and catches your lips with his again, kissing you slowly with a lazy, lewdly open mouth. One hand curls against the nape of your neck, the other hand reaching up beneath your sweater and curling possessively against your left tit, sweeping over your sluggish, sated heartbeat.

You feel practically brainless after your orgasm, relaxed and loose in Gaz’s arms. There’s something to be said for how safe you feel with him, as much as you’d like to deny it, but reality is starting to slowly sink in.

You pull away from his mouth to try and collect yourself, unable to think when he’s kissing you like that.

“Fuck.” You breathe, closing your eyes with a sigh. It’s slow, but you’re finally starting to think again. “We shouldn’t– we should have used a condom.”

Gaz’s eyes are lidded with fond amusement as he watches you quietly. His hand kneads at your breast absent-mindedly, as though he’s forgotten that he’s groping at you.

“Don’t overthink it,” He murmurs, kissing your forehead again. “I saw your box of pills in the bathroom. And I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone but you.”

You tremble a little at his admission, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You feel like you’re losing your mind. Gaz is the most beautiful man you’ve ever met, funny and sweet and always so caring. You love him, even if it kills you a little to admit it, and you don’t know how to respond to his admission that he’s been faithful to you during the long months you weren’t together.

Gaz misinterprets whatever expression is on your face, thumb stroking soothingly over your cheek again. “We can get you a morning-after pill, if it’ll make you feel better.”

You don’t bother correcting him. You’re not that fussed over the morning-after pill – you’re careful when it comes to your birth control, and Gaz had always cum inside you when you were together. The weight of his cock inside you is comforting almost, the wet slide of his cum dripping out of you makes you feel as though you’d never been apart in the first place. You wonder how you could ever have been thick enough to think that someone else could fill Gaz’s place in your life.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, Gaz’s lips twitch. “That pillock you brought home would’ve been such a disappointment, darling.”

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, exasperated.

“You don’t know that.” You grumble, though you don’t pull away. You’re still all curled up against his chest, skin still slick and sticky from rapidly cooling sweat, your leg still slung over Gaz’s hip to keep his now-soft cock nestled inside you.

“Sure I do.” He says, and that cocky arrogance that both drives you mad and makes you swoon is rearing its head. He reaches down, and his thick fingers roll over your much-too-sensitive clit. “She missed me, gorgeous. Don’t think she would have liked some strange tosser pounding away at her with no idea how to please her.”

The way he talks about your pussy as though it has its own thoughts and feelings has you rolling your eyes again, though your cheeks burn with embarrassment. To your immense irritation, you think he might have a point. You haven’t come that hard in months, not since the breakup.

“Oh, shut up.” You sigh tiredly.

He snickers, and then shifts. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s pulling his hips back preparing to pull out. Your brain stalls, and you wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders in protest. You’re not ready to feel the invasive, aching emptiness that will no doubt throb through your core as soon as he’s not filling you up.

“Stay.” You say, and it comes out as an embarrassingly breathy little plea.

Gaz goes practically limp, as though your hoarse request had taken the wind right out of him. You’re not expecting the way he brings both arms around your waist before rolling over onto his back, hauling you up to lay over his chest. His cock remains firmly lodged inside you, though the movement has resulted in his white creamy spend leaking out onto your inner thighs.

“Not going nowhere.” He mumbles, one hand stroking over your flank to soothe you. “I’m on leave for at least a month.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Gaz hums. He must sense that this is a delicate moment, because he doesn’t make any ribald jokes about having all month to fuck you like you’re expecting him to. He just presses a tender kiss to your temple, his lips lingering gently.

Usually, you’d probably be a little embarrassed by how clingy you’re being. You had been so damn determined not to fall into bed with Gaz after the breakup, but you’re so, so weak. His stupid honey brown eyes and gorgeous dimples and crooked grin is enough to send you to your knees. You rest your forehead against his chest as he holds you close; at least like this, you can’t see his stupid handsome face.

He’s obviously pleased with the way you’re snuggling into him, because his chest rumbles as he hums in satisfaction. He’s holding you tight like he thinks you’re going to slip away the moment he blinks.

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

You don’t answer immediately. There’s no way to brush this under the carpet, or to go back to pretending at detached disinterest. If you had wanted to play this off as just a bit of stress relief, then you should have rolled away from him the second he’d spilled inside of you rather than cuddling with him on the couch. There’s no way that you can claim that this was just a case of needing to get laid; you’re still clutching at him like a limpet, the two of you intertwined so tight that it’s difficult to tell when your limbs end and Gaz’s begin.

“I’m tired.” You sigh eventually, sidestepping the conversation that you know you’ll have to deal with eventually.

No doubt Gaz notices your not particularly subtle avoidance, but he doesn’t comment. He seems quite happy to indulge your every whim; he probably wants to avoid the this-was-a-mistake-and-we-need-to-maintain-boundaries conversation even more than you do.

“Let’s get you to bed then,” He murmurs, and then he surprises you by sitting up. You’re still laid out across his chest, which means that when he shimmies up into a sitting position, you end up sitting sprawled in his lap.

You’re still speared a little awkwardly on his soft cock, the sensation of him inside you making your eyelids flutter a little. You feel satisfied, your muscles still watery and weak, and you sigh a little mournfully when Gaz finally pulls his cock out of you. You ache, a deep throb that both stokes and settles you. It’s like a comfortable little reminder that Gaz was here, and that he left his mark on you.

You can feel the way he leans back just to get a glimpse of his spend trickling down the inside of your thigh. You pout and bury your face into his throat, your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders still as you try to hide your sudden self-consciousness.

But Gaz isn’t interested in giving you a moment to hide. You feel the edge of his teeth ghost the shell of your ear before he speaks, just low enough to make you shiver.

“Let me take you out tomorrow, sweetheart.” He says, and beneath his usual cocky countenance you hear the edge of a plea. “I’ll make up for ruining your date tonight. You can wear that little dress from earlier for me again.”

You feel exposed, stripped bare as you perch in Gaz’s lap. His hand strokes evenly over your spine, waiting patiently for your response.

“I want a fancy dinner.” You mumble, your fingers curling around his shoulders. “At a nice restaurant.”

You hear a shaky little exhale, and Gaz’s arms tighten around your waist. It strikes you that he’s relieved, and you feel your heart tremble in response. The knowledge that he wants you still is enough to have your own lungs seizing in response; you can’t quite bear to wonder if you’ve been wasting time for these past few months that you’ve been broken up.

“Whatever you want.” He says it like a prayer, tilting his head in search of your lips again.

The kiss is easy, the months that you’ve been apart dissolving into nothing. You’re a little too stubborn to give in entirely and beg for him back just yet though, but you doubt it matters. You’ve already admitted your weakness for him in the middle of shagging, and you’re not stupid enough to hope that he’s somehow forgotten it. You’ve been trying so hard to shove all those feelings down deep, but you’re not too surprised that they’ve all come bubbling out. He’s got a month of leave. You have no doubt that he’s going to use that time to change your mind. You find that you don’t mind the idea as much as you thought you might; you suspect that you can be swayed all too easily.

You peek up at him, only to come face to face with his sweet, hopeful deep brown eyes. He’s not pushing, but you can see the weight of desire and yearning in every inch of his face. No doubt it’s mirrored on your own. You don’t think you could ever look into his pretty face and deny him anything.

You hum, then whisper the only answer you could ever give.

“Yeah. Okay. It’s a date, then.”

#why was it so hard to find a cute pic of him with no big fuckin union jack splashed across him #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #cod smut #cod fic #kyle gaz garrick

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