#the ginger guy looks INSANE
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âźď¸I did human designs line up of the main cast for my comic ÂŤÂ Another Goofy Story âźď¸ (Another Goofy Story : Chapter 1 here)
â˘ages written down are (for now) how far I want to push the storyline â˘Iâm fulfilling my own craving for New Adult coming of age stories đ â˘Iâm preparing little characters info sheets and MAYBE a little summary of how I want to lead the storytelling đ¤đ â˘but itâs almost 2 in the morning so Iâll repost this soonâ¨
#Another Goofy Story#an extremely goofy movie#a maxley comic#maxley#poc max with vitiligo#max goof#poc bradley#bradley uppercrust iii#roxanne rover#those stickers wanna be were SO EASY to draw#they match my freak#and by âfreakâ I really mean âautistic burnoutâ#cookie crumbs#for y'all#artists on tumblr#digital art#the ginger guy looks INSANE
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#who told you you could look this good.#i dont have this img on my blog. and i need it even with the huge watermark#HIS FLUFFY SPIKES AND HIS OFF KILTER STARS#not me going insane over some ginger white guy ong#vyvyan basterd#ade edmondson#the young ones#britcom
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my hair going from pink to purple means. i have gone thru all the colourw of the rainbow.thankyou
#red orange(ginger) yellow(blonde) green blue purple pink#so ive done em all collect em all. i think im sticking to the dark urp for the forseeable future it is an odd novelty#to have such dark hair again <- voice of a guy who needs to change how he looks every 2 months or he goes insane#call me ramon flowers or whatever idk#my face#seph.txt
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What do the ROs look like?
Aurelius/Aurelia Weaver
They are a pretty tall person clocking in at 6ft/182cm. They have hazel eyes and russet brown skin that is scattered in beauty marks. They also have a very faint scar on the corner of their top lip. Their hair is dark brown and kept in dreadlocks. Aurelias locks come down to her mid back and Aurelius locks are a little bit longer than his chin. They both have a preference to keep their hair pulled out of their face and in the games they have it pulled back into a ponytail.
Creon Levesque
Creon is average in height at 5'8ft/172m. They have dark brown eyes and olive skin. Their skin is smooth and blemish free with a few freckles across their arms. Their hair is black and loosely curled. They both keep their hair fairly short with F!Creon keeping it in a bob and M!Creon hair grown out from a very short hair cut. Their curls kind of make their haircut look the same M!Creons just is a little longer in the back
Asher Fairchild
Ash was slightly bellow average in height at 5'6ft/170cm. They had dark green eyes with very fair skin that was covered head to toe in freckles. Their hair was light ginger/strawberry blonde. F!Ash liked to straighten hers and keep it in twin dutch braids that rested just below her shoulders. M!Ash kept his hair short just below his ears, he also straightened his hair but he sucked at it so no matter what he did it was either wavy or curls were always appearing throughout the day.
I'll add some face claims below. They're still very much a possibility for me to change them.
Aurelius/Aurelia:
Creon Levesque:
Asher Fairchild:
#thanks anon!#when the proper character intros come out later ill prob delete this tbh#but for now have this#the fight i had trying to find a ginger guy that didnt look 27 years old was insane#aurel weaver.#creon levesque.#ash fairchild.
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Squeak 'Em If You Got 'Em
You belong to Task Force 141. Task Force 141 belongs to Captain Price. It's simple math - but math was never your strong suit.
Original AO3 Link
Content: Dom/Sub Dynamics, Fraternizing (therefore, power imbalance), Medical Care (non-descriptive), Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy
Itâs your first mission with the 141. Well â your first mission with the whole squad.
Youâve completed assignments with Ghost and Soap, Gaz and Ghost, Soap and Gaz. A little intel gathering here; a terrorist assassination there. Things to build your confidence and the teamâs confidence in you.
This is the first time youâve been trusted with a Big Kid Operation. And itâs gone to absolute shit.
Not by any fault of your own. Youâve been sharp, responsive to your superiorsâ commands. Hauled Gaz out from under a burning car with Ghostâs vicious scope covering you. When everyone else was breathing off the mad dash to the safehouse, you were still on your feet, doing triage. Price even patted your head before sending you off for a powernap.
Itâs not clear what went wrong, or where. Hitting a base trying to flush out a Big Bad expected to be elsewhere, only for the guy to be there with his own small army. Too many men on their side, too few bullets on yours. Almost got massacred but managed to eke out an escape with some well-placed and impromptu bombs from Soap. Intel was wrong, someone was tipped off, plans were changed â doesnât matter what happened, just that it did.
Your boys are pissed off, battered and scraped, all cramped together in a dingy safehouse only a little bigger than a barrack. Everyone is running low on patience. Gaz is ginger from multiple burns. You suspect Ghost has a microfracture in his leg. Soap is mildly concussed and grumpy about missing out on shuteye. Even youâre a little bristly, worn down from everyone elseâs bad mood.
And then thereâs the captain.
When you rouse from your doze, Soap and Gaz are hovering nearby, muttering sullenly about Priceâs piss-poor mood. âRight crabbitâ as Soap put it.
You suspect why.
(âNot going to say itâs bad for me?â Price gruffs.
You donât look up from your treatment reports. âIt is bad for you.â
âYouâre not going to tell me I should quit.â Heâs not asking this time.
You flick your eyes up, unimpressed. âWould you listen if I did?â
He huffs, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he blows cigar smoke out the open window. Pointedly. You donât quite roll your eyes, but turning back to your charts is as good as.
âWe all have our vices, cap.â
âThat so?â he muses. âWhatâs yours, lamb?â
You. âInsane amounts of morphine.â)
Nicotine withdrawals are a hell of a thing. This mission wasnât supposed to last as long as it has, but supposed isnât worth fuck all right now. Gaz isnât supposed to have second degree burns on his arms. Ghost isnât supposed to be limping when he thinks no one is looking.
Bottom line is this: youâre all vacuum sealed in a little cement box and Captain Price didnât bring any cigars. And itâs making everything worse.
Sighing, you rouse yourself from the corner you curled up in with the shock blanket. The boys quiet a little, offer you thin smiles. You appreciate the efforts and reward them with a squeeze to the shoulder each. Soap spares a whispered warning to keep out from under Priceâs feet, but thatâs exactly where you plan to go.
On the way, you grab a cup of water for your lieutenant, on watch at one of the windows. Heâs been there for hours now. You scuff your boot to let him know youâre coming, set the cup and two paracetamols on the windowsill by his rifle, left side.
âShould save it for the others.â
âDonât tell me how to do my job, sir.â
He doesnât look up from the scope. You notice his hand twitch from the corner of your eye as you walk away.
Your captain is standing in the open door at the front of the safehouse â opposite side of where Ghost is posted. He tilts his head to acknowledge your approach but doesnât speak until youâre already at his elbow.
âLast time, sergeant, Iâm not injured,â he rumbles. His voice is rough from too little use and too many bitten back curses.
âI know, sir,â you say, erring on the side of deferent. Youâd bugged him about it a lot earlier, afraid to nod off with your captain potentially wounded and in pain. Know you made a bit of a nuisance of yourself, jittery on the tail-end of a bullet too close to his head.
âWhy the fuck are you up, then?â he demands.
âEveryone else is up,â you answer, simple and nonconfrontational.
He grunts. Slides a glance your way and catches whatever expression youâre making. Seems to realize heâs being an ass, and sighs. His shoulders only seem to tense more though, leashing in his unusual temper. You wait another moment, obtrusive because youâre being quiet. Wait until he finally looks at you properly.
âSleep alright, Squeaks?â
His tone is milder now, you might even detect threads of an apology woven in there somewhere.
You donât quite smile, but you know your expression warms. âYes, sir.â
âDonât bother telling me I should try it myself,â he warns, but it lacks the heat it had a moment ago.
âNo, sir,â you agree. Then offer up the blister pack.
âThe hell is that?â he squints.
âGum.â
âTrying to say something?â
You roll your eyes, turn them out the open door. âNicotine gum, Captain Muppet.â
Thereâs a beat of silence, then a sputter as he decides if he wants to ream you out or give you a commendation. You donât look at him, spare his pride (and yourself from his temper) as you tuck your free hand behind your back.
âFuck, Squeaks,â he sighs, swiping it from your patient fingers.
You wait until heâs popped two pieces and started crunching before offering the patches next, side-eyeing him.
âThe gum is just something for your brain,â you explain. âThese are what will actually take the edge off.â
âChrist, youâre an angel. Should have called you that instead of Squeaks.â
You snort. âWhose fault is that?â
He narrows his eyes at you, but itâs with better humor than heâs had since the transport in.
âSoapâs, last I checked.â
You hum, lean your hip into the doorframe. Canât let yourself look at him again because you know youâll blush like a schoolgirl. Itâs an embarrassing and increasingly frequent risk around your captain. Because of your captain.
A good man â youâre starting to think one of the best men youâve ever met. A better leader â definitely the best youâve ever had. John Price is larger than life and all you want to do is bask in the safety of the massive shadow he casts. Like seeking shelter from a hot day.
Youâve gotten shy, praying that you can reside in that shadow without drawing the attention of the noble creature it comes from. Not because youâre afraid, but because you wouldnât know what to do with it. Donât know what to do with it. Still crave it, though.
It wasnât like this, at first. Not sitting in his office, your file on the desk between you two. A fresh transfer with nerves shot on too little sleep and too many questions, asking your new captain why you were there at all.
Staring out into the small hours of another Hell Day, you puzzle out where it changed.
Maybe that first proud grin when you got brave enough to start asking the right â real â questions at the end of that introductory meeting.
Maybe when your fellow sergeants dragged you to breakfast dark and early the next morning, singing praises of the 141âs COs at your gentle probing.
Maybe it was that hair ruffle after debriefing your first official mission, Ghost reporting that youâd done well.
Or it was the pack of sour candies he dropped in your lap during movie night. Or the shoulder squeeze as he guided you through a tough knife maneuver. Or the sympathy on his face when you nearly cried over paperwork last week.
But no, wait. You know what it was.
A break during sparring practice sometime that first month. You were sitting against the wall, nursing a sore wrist with a cold pack. Price was posted up next to you, just quietly in your space. Almost like he was desensitizing you to his presence.
Youâd been groping for something to say, uncharacteristically longing to bridge some of that gap between you and your CO. There had been no ice to break with Gaz and Soap, just the two of them cannonballing into your friendship. And Ghost â well, itâs hard to keep feeling terrified of a guy whose glove got caught on the lace of your underwear two days ago because of an unfortunate tumble and loosened drawstrings.
But youâd seen the way Price interacted with them. The fond if sometimes exasperated sighs at your fellow sergeants. The brotherly exchange of glances with Ghost. You wanted that too. To belong to the 141, not just part of it. And that had to start with Price.
âYour physical is coming up, sir,â you landed on. Wanted to drop your head in your hands. Not your best.
Price didnât quite groan, but his grimace was loud. He didnât turn away from the sparring mats where Ghost was beating the stuffing out of Gaz and Soap simultaneously. It was like he hoped that if he didnât look at you, youâd magically forget your duties.
âYou thought I wouldnât notice it coming up?â you asked, mustering a teasing tone.
He grumbled noncommittally. You took that as a yes. (Youâd been correct.)
âThereâs four of you, sir,â you reminded. âI have your vaccination records memorized already.â
He huffed, ran a hand down his face, ended with a scratch to the facial hair at his jaw.
âHow about this, sergeant,â he began. âYou take my word that Iâm fit as a fiddle, and I tell Soap to stop calling you Squeaks.â
Soap had just coined it that day; there was still a chance it wouldnât stick. You sucked in a breath. âSir. Thatâs just cruel. You need your physical.â
âPain in the ass, they are.â He faltered, shot you a wary look. âSometimes literally.â
âNope, itâll just be a normal check-up,â you laughed.
âThe deal is still on the table, sergeant.â
âWhat was it you said that first day?â you asked, arching an eyebrow. Getting brave enough to let something like a personality shine through your training. âI âknow how to get the job doneâ? Something about me being âunafraid to pull medical overrideâ when needed?â
âAlright, alright watch it,â he grumbled. You didnât think there was any real heat in it. (There hadnât been.) âInsubordinate little shit.â
âTomorrow morning, then? Or would you prefer the afternoon to prepare yourself?â At his narrow look and knowing you could be pushing your luck, added a smug little, âSir.â
âRight then,â he sighed, pushing himself up.
You blinked as he stood â blinked again when he winked at you.
âIâll see you at 0700 tomorrow, Sergeant Squeaks,â he said, loud enough to catch the boysâ attention.
You yelped indignantly, felt your cheeks flush first at the noise and then at the wicked grin he sent you. Christ, that smile needed a license.
âAh, thatâll be the nickname, then,â he mused, nodding to himself. âTa.â
He exited to the sound of Soap whooping and Gaz laughing. You sat, shocked and betrayed, open-mouthed, until Ghost called you back to the mat.
Yes, yes that was it.
The warmth in your chest and persistent fluttering in your gut. The way that wink-and-grin combination made your head spin for hours afterwards. That first precious glimmer of really belonging.
After all, you donât mind the nickname. Itâs apt enough. Deserved given how you squeal when Ghost flings you across the mat by your belt, or when Gaz scoops you up around the ribs and hauls you about like cheap luggage. More imaginative than the âdoc,â âsergeant,â or simply your last name that all your previous squads used.
âIâd offer a penny for your thoughts, but yours look like they cost a pound,â Price says.
You donât quite startle, still too keyed in on the mission for that. But it jerks you from your musings, abrupt but not unwelcome. No use dwelling on your increasingly fluffy feelings for your captain. At least not here and now. Maybe in the shower back on base, where the feelings are allowed to be more than just fluffy.
âToo rich for your blood, cap?â you ask.
âYouâd make me a poor man if I let you.â
Your grin has no right to be so bright given the circumstances.
âSqueaks!â Soap calls, a little whiny. âCan I have a vomit pill?â
âFor fuckâs sake, Soap, if you donât quit your whingingââ Ghost snarls.
Because youâre already looking at him, you see the way Priceâs mouth goes tight, eyes closing as he gathers patience. You pat his arm, smooth a thumb over the synthetic of the nicotine patch â telling yourself that youâre just checking itâs flat.
âIâve got it, sir. Take a minute?â
âIâve had a minute.â
Brooding into the darkness doesnât count, as youâve told Ghost several times already.
âWhen was the last time you had something to eat?â you try instead.
He doesnât answer â which is all you need. You tug a meal replacement bar from your vest pocket and tuck it into his hand.
âLike I said, I got it, sir.â
You blink at him one last time, a wordless entreaty to stay, eat. Then turn on your heel and return to your boys.
Ghost and Soap are scowling at each other. Gaz is slumped in the middle, looking about ready to tear his curls out. You make a detour to your bag to grab the peacemaking supplies, then fearlessly enter the fray. Itâs shocking, really, that youâre not vaporized for stepping in the middle of their death glares.
âHere,â you say, dropping a Dramamine and a pack of pretzels into Soapâs lap. âDrink with water.â
You say it every time because they have no regard for their esophagus or stomach linings. Soap, defused for the moment, salutes you with a tip of his half-finished water bottle. You bite back a chastisement that he isnât further along with it.
Gaz is next. Heâs been chugging water dutifully, keeping his arms elevated and still, otherwise. His bandages are clean and dry from when you dressed them earlier. You know heâs hurting something awful and will be for a while yet. Wish you could do more, apart from generic pain meds.
You give him a bag of animal crackers and pat his leg as you turn to your last patient. Ghost glares at you.
âAlready gave me the damn meds,â he growls. Theyâre gone now and the cup of water is empty.
âLet me take watch for a bit?â you reply. âElevate your leg, put a cold pack on it.â
He frowns, considers. Clearly wants to say no. There has been no sign of hostiles since you all holed up, though. Youâre just waiting for the coast to be clear enough for Laswell to send evac.
Youâre about to say as much, but his eyes flicker over your shoulder. Maybe itâs occurring to him as well.
âFine. You remember what I taught you.â Itâs not a question because itâs not an option. Ghost has been relentless about sniper training. Says your steady hands and cool head make good assets.
âYes, sir,â you say.
You donât offer a hand out of the chair, know heâd sooner break it. But Soap sidles up to offer a shoulder (that he accepts) and you take his seat without another word.
Four hours later, Laswell sends word that Nik is on the way. Price looks saner than he has for the past day. He gives you a grateful nod and squeezes the back of your neck when you ask if the nicotine supplements helped. You board the helo and feel especially warm when he leans his thigh into yours.
Sparring, you decided a while ago, is your personal hell. That opinion hasnât changed.
You canât pin a single one of them. Ghost is a demonic trainer, barking instructions when heâs not tossing you around the mat himself.
Guard up, Sergeant. Leg back, Sergeant. Donât let him overwhelm you, Sergeant, heâs a muppet.
Each time, you haul yourself up and try again. Get knocked around like a human pinball in a crack-fueled arcade machine for the effort, but you try. Price says you need experience and practice. So, you nut up and get practice and experience under Ghostâs watchful eye. Even if it means you probably need your own medic now.
Itâs worse today. You think the boys might be a little high-strung because of your last mission. A hostile surprised you, knocked the pistol from your hands and took you to the ground. You managed to stab the guy â nearly gutted him, according to Soap â but it was the closest call youâve had since joining the 141. Too close for them, you suspect.
Their response has been to train you harder, to be sure itâs not so close next time. You appreciate the sentiment, really you do, but damn if youâre not suffering from their particular brand of fussing.
At some point, you get dropped on your ass and just lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Itâs not more than two heavy breaths before a skull mask peeks over you. Like the devil himself just watched you get drop kicked into Hell.
âI hate it here,â you groan.
âThat so?â Ghost asks.
Opposite him, Soapâs mohawk pokes into view, a goofy grin plastered across his face. Heâs not even sweating.
âAch, donâ look so torn-faced, wee chook.â
You blink. Squint. Blink again.
âLT, how hard did you hit me?â
âEnglish, MacTavish.â
Soap rolls his eyes and puts on an accent violently wavering between obnoxious American and obnoxious British. âDonât look so sad, small chicken.â
You swipe at his leg â get him in the calf with two knuckles.
âOw, fuck!â
âHope it cramps,â you snip.
Ghost sighs, then reaches a massive hand down and hauls you up by the collar of your shirt. You consider hanging limp and defiant, but you know better than to test his patience by now. Resigned, you get your feet under you.
âEnough,â he grumbles. âSave it for the next round.â
âOh, thatâs the only hit youâre gettinâ, lass.â
You hope heâs not right.
Five minutes later, youâre right back where you started, blinking at the overheads. Ghost is squatting next to you this time, apparently considerate of the knock you just took. Soap is muttering about your âstupid little handsâ hitting him on pressure points somewhere nearby. You wish you had the energy to be smug that you made his arm go numb.
âFeel like that last round was personal for some reason,â you wheeze.
âOnly got yourself to blame, Squeaks,â Ghost replies.
Wishing a cramp upon Soap was a little cruel, youâll admit. Canât help that youâre mildly frustrated that after months assigned here, youâre still barely able to hold your own against any other member of the 141.
Also, you canât believe he called you a chicken.
âNo, no I think I can blame Price for this,â you say.
âWhat was that, sergeant?â
You yelp and jolt upright, thankful that youâre already flushed from exertion. Price is standing at the edge of the mats, arms crossed, eyebrows arched. Itâs not fair that he looks that attractive in cargos and a plain tan undershirt. Especially when you can tell youâre about to get your ass handed to you again.
âSir,â you start. Wish Ghost would strike you down like the grim reaper knock-off he is. Heâs not merciful enough to put you out of your misery. âI was just saying, umâŚâ
Nothing is forthcoming and Price doesnât wait for you to scrounge together any excuses.
âRight, then, Squeaks,â Price says, stepping forward, âletâs give you a chance to take out your frustrations, since you have them.â
Oh, you do. Just not any that should be worked out in the gym⌠or with an audience. (Or your captain, but that goes beyond saying. Youâre well past that qualm by now.)
âGreat,â you mumble as Ghost once again yanks you up like a particularly awkward kitten. âThe whole squad gets a turn.â
Gaz chokes on water over Priceâs shoulder. To the side, thereâs a mysterious noise similar to a strangled goose as Soap turns away, ears bright red. Itâs only when you hear Ghostâs quiet huff that you realize what youâve said.
Christ.
âLieutenant, would youââ
âNo.â
âDamn.â Worth a try.
And so you trudge to the center of the sparring ring, shaking your hands out to dispel the nerves.
Youâve never sparred your captain before. Heâs been running drills aplenty with you and the rest of the boys, of course. But Ghost has been the one in charge of your training, getting you up to snuff with the rest of the team. Gaz and/or Soap are almost always there as well, for bonding and encouragement.
Price, however, hardly has the time to join your sparring practices â nor does he really seem inclined to participate. When he is there, itâs usually just to supervise and offer advice. Youâve never asked, always just figured heâs too busy to risk an accidental concussion.
âCâmon then, sergeant,â he goads, nodding you forward. âTake a swing.â
âNo,â you reply.
You know better by now.
âThisâll be good for you,â Gaz calls. âNeed practice with someone new.â
You donât respond, keeping your eyes on Priceâs center mass. Another lesson Ghost taught you â the hard way.
âNeed to get more comfortable with our dear Cap anyway,â Soap adds. âNothing cozies up mates like a sweaty row.â
You twitch against the urge to turn and glare at him. Little shit. Youâre plenty comfortable with your captain by now. Any further and youâre risking inappropriate behavior.
âThatâll do,â Ghost snaps.
Price huffs softly at them but never takes his eyes off you. Thereâs a beat of heavy silence, you feel the pressure of incoming action on your shoulders. Then he lunges at youâ
And you decide in short order that you wish youâd never been transferred to the 141, never joined the military, never been born. Price fights like a machine. Brutal, efficient, ruthless. Less savage than Ghost but terrifying in new and nightmare-inducing ways.
âEasy does it, lamb. Thereâs a dear.â
He settles you onto the bench, barks at Gaz to bring you a cold pack and water. You just try not to fall over, still blinking spots from your vision. Probably not a concussion, but youâre in for a hell of a bruise later. Your vision finally focuses on Price, crouching in front of you, eyes so soft for a man that just gave you three consecutive heart attacks.
âRing your bell a bit, did I?â he teases.
âIf I get my bell rung any more itâs gonna be an alarm,â you mumble.
Gaz jogs up with the ice pack and your stupidly bright pink water bottle. The latter gets nudged into your hand. You sip at it while Price pops the internal water bag and shakes it. When you lower your bottle again, Gaz is already gone.
 âChin up, sergeant, youâre making progress,â Price says, offering you the cold pack.
You sigh, set it against your smarting cheek and temple, one eye closing against the temperature difference. Drop your gaze to your free hand, still tightly wrapped to protect the fine bones and thin skin.
âI canât win against any of you,â you mutter, trying not to pout.
âYou will.â He says it like he gives orders, so sure that itâs going happen that he doesn't consider there to be an alternative. âJust need to get out of your own head.â
âWhat do you mean?â you ask, brow furrowing.
A gentle nudge under your chin draws your gaze up to his. A silent command to listen, this is important. Youâre helpless to do anything but obey.
âYou let yourself get intimidated, convince yourself that youâre going to lose so you miss openings to get a win. Weâre not invincible, Squeaks. If some sack of shit out there can get a hit on us, so can you.â
You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, considering that.
Itâs so easy to put them on a pedestal. Theyâre the 141. The four-man army (five-people, now) top brass sends in when they want shit done. Even you, a perpetually sleep deprived combat medic with more caffeine than blood, had heard of them before your transfer. Usually from patients waxing semi-delirious poetic about their badassery, but thatâs beside the point.
Youâve been with them long enough now, seen enough of them, to parse facts from gossip.
Ghost is a terrifying badass with a penchant for wicked blades. But he also likes tea with too much sugar, watches nature documentaries with you at 2am, and once cursed a blue streak over a papercut.
Soap is indeed a pyromantic demolitions expert that can set anything on fire if he tries hard enough. Heâs got one of the fastest clearing times in the military. That said, youâve banned dog-themed movies because they make him cry, play doodling games when heâs bored, and could talk for hours about different types of coffee.
Gaz is brilliant with any gun he gets a hand on, a marksman to rival Ghost, with a head for strategy and tactics that makes your own spin. Youâve also helped him hide a cat on base for the past two weeks and learned how to crochet from him.
And Price. Price is everything they say he is, through and through. Heâd a leader at his core, watching out for all of you no matter the time or place. Heâs bedrock, the foundation youâve all built yourselves upon, the reason the 141 is the catastrophic force it is.
But just last week you had to stitch his bicep together because some asshole with a blade got a lucky swipe.
âI want to do right by you all,â you whisper.
It keeps you up some nights, the weight of your position on this team. Not just because of what they are, but who they are. You care about your boys far more than you care about casting a shadow to match theirs
âYou are,â Price says. Sets a large, strong hand on your knee and squeezes gently. âI wouldnât send you out there if I didnât think you could watch out for yourself and them. I know itâs hard for you to see, but youâre improving.â
Youâre not a real doctor. Youâre a combat medic; the first tenant of your creed isnât to do no harm. Itâs that you canât fix someone else if youâre already broken.
âThank you⌠Price,â you murmur.
The smile he rewards you with could fucking melt you. You duck your head, clear your throat.
âI should get back to it, then,â you say.
âNo, youâre done for the day.â
âButââ Your mouth clicks shut at the look he gives you.
âUp you get, Squeaks.â
You stand, still holding the icepack to your face. At his gesture, you offer your free hand to allow him to unwrap it. He does so in methodical, hypnotic movements. Quiet, focused. His hands are so much bigger than yours, and rougher. Mind, you have your own callouses, but sweating in nitrile gloves half the day tends to soften them.
When he finishes the first, you switch, giving him the other hand. As he does, he calls out to the boys.
âSqueaks is coming with me, so donât do anything too stupid.â
âAw, but sir!â Soap whines.
âLet them be, Johnny,â Ghost interrupts, shaking his head.
Price lets you scurry off to the locker room for a rinse and change of clothes. When you emerge ten minutes later, he nods for you to follow him, and you dutifully fall in line. Itâs quiet between you two, but not the awkwardness of when you first joined. Outside, he heads to the left instead of the right, meaning the destination is his office.
âSir, I have paperââ
âAlready waiting for you. Câmon, Squeaks.â
You puff your cheeks at him sullenly, but only because heâs not looking.
âBossy,â you chide.
ââS what they pay me for.â
And heâs so good at it, too.
Youâll never tell him why, but you love his office. Itâs quiet, cool â except for the patch of sunlit couch under the window, where you like to curl up when the AC gets to you. Price keeps it neat and tidy, but there are personal touches everywhere. A picture of the 141 before you joined, his hat on the edge of the desk, a few milling medals in little clear cubes on his bookshelf. It smells like a humidor, but your brain has been rewired to have a positive association with cigar smoke.
It's better than your âoffice.â Little more than a converted storage nook in one of the clinicâs procedure rooms, outfitted with a counter, cabinets, computer, and rolling stool. You use it for its intended purpose sometimes, but mostly itâs where you stash your personal supplies â funny plasters, candies, meal replacements, extra balaclavas, fidget toys, nicotine supplements.
Itâs also where you hide to cry, but no one needs to know about that except the âhang in thereâ kitten poster.
Most times that you need to do paperwork without disruption, you come to Price. Er, his office.
You like to work with company and Price is usually buried under his own mountain of red tape, listening to whatever radio station has caught his fancy for the day. Usually some form of classical or jazz, sometimes dad-rock when heâs in an especially good mood. Heâll sacrifice a portion of his desk and let you fill out your charts and forms and happily receives your mission reports right on time.
Today, a stack is waiting where you usually work â to his left side, on the short end of the desk. You wonât be able to see his computer or any confidential documents on screen. Heâd have to work hard to see any private information on your side. Heâs even left a pen â your favorite one that you swear youâre going to steal, a smooth black ballpoint that doesnât skip or smear.
Price nudges a chair out for you. You drop into it with a sigh, easing the ice pack away from your face.
âYou broken?â he asks, closer than you expect.
When you glance up, heâs right there. Right in front of you, down on one knee. The fabric of his jeans is taught over the swell of hard muscle in his thighs. Even like this he seems to dwarf you, broad shouldered and just⌠larger than life. Youâre a little lightheaded with the scent of him, cologne and cigars and clean linen. Donât even care that heâs the reason your face hurts in the first place.
âDonât think so.â But heâs already reaching. You let him.
His fingertips are searing hot as they caress over the cold skin of your cheek. A brush so soft it tingles instead of hurting. Your next breath shudders as he applies gentle pressure, prodding around the forming bruise.
âDidnât mean to clock you like that.â His voice is lower than youâve ever heard it, a purr that usually haunts you over comms but is pure sex without static to dilute it.
âShouldnât have gotten clocked,â you counter.
It really was your own fault. His shirt rode up a tantalizing inch, revealing the cut line of his hip. Practically a neon sign pointing here, look, you know heâs packing, you know you want to get your tongueâ and then youâd received the cosmic justice of your captainâs fist.
Hopefully, the red skin from the ice pack shrouds the flush starting to fan across your face. That little sliver of skin will be burned into your mind for the next decade at least. A place of honor in Sergeant Squeaksâ Spank Bank.
âIâm not in the habit of beating down my own people,â Price rumbles.
âThat why you never join?â you ask.
His gaze flickers that tiny fraction from the wound to your eyes. Something glints in them, there and gone, too fast for you to recognize. Still, the intensity of it makes your stomach flutter.
âOne of the reasons.â
He stands and turns away. You swallow back disappointment at the loss â his attention is an addiction and youâre constantly craving a fix. Just as youâre wrestling your thoughts onto the much-more professional path of paperwork, he sets something down in front of you.
Chocolate, infused with 50 milligrams of caffeine.
Your mouth drops open, saliva already gathering under your tongue. Wide-eyed, your gaze bounces up to your captain, to the grin just a touch too sweet to be as mocking as he means it to be.
âYou always crash after sparring,â he says. âHave a nibble before you fall asleep.â
âThank you, sir,â you chirp, grabbing at the bar with excited hands.
âFeral little thing,â he tsks.
âYou have cigars, I have caffeine.â
âAnd insane amounts of morphine, apparently.â
ââS what the caffeine is for.â You hum, delighted at the first touch of candy on your tongue, just the right balance of sweet and bitter. âWant some?â
He considers for a moment, head tilted, eyes flashing. Then he takes your wrist and ducks down, the click of his teeth through the chocolate loud in your shocked silence. When he straightens, his eyes find yours, glimmering in the soft lighting of his office. He doesnât look away as he chews, swallows. Then his tongue peaks out, licking slow and deliberate across his bottom lip.
Thereâs going to be a wet patch on this seat by the time you leave.
You open your mouth, not sure what youâre going to say. Some one-liner that itâll taste better from your mouth. A different one-liner that you want to see if it tastes better from his. That heâs the hottest thing youâve ever laid eyes on in your miserable little life. That youâll happily spend the rest of your days on your knees, between his thighsâŚ
His phone rings.
He grunts, a dissatisfied but resigned thing as he plucks it from his pocket.
âGotta take this. Get started, lamb.â
âYes, sir,â you manage.
He drops a hand on top of your head as he goes around you for the door, already pressing the phone to his ear. You shouldnât find the authoritative shift in his voice as he answers so appealing. You do anyway.
Itâs only when the door closes that you feel like you can breathe again. Managing it in a way thatâs somewhat normal is a challenge, but you wrangle yourself under control, thinking about anything other than how badly you want your captain.
By the time he returns, youâre already checking over lab results, making notes on a sticky-pad off to the side.
âWorld ending?â you ask, glancing up.
Price huffs in amusement, rewards you with one of those heart-melting smiles that crinkles his eyes a little. Itâs impossible to coax out of him when heâs stressed or thereâs bad news. Whatever his call was about, it doesnât seem to be anything worrisome.
âNot just yet.â
âDamn, I was hoping I could avoid reports a little longer.â
ââFraid not.â
A scritch to the back of your head as he passes this time, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin behind your ear. You hum in appreciation, lean into it a little, but donât cause a fuss when he continues to his desk. That would be too revealing.
âMusic?â he asks.
You perk up. Heâs letting you pick today. âWhat about that classics station you found a couple weeks ago?â
He hums, glances at the window behind you. âRainâs coming in. Sure you wonât fall asleep?â
âIâm not a toddler.â
âCould have fooled me.â
âNow youâre just being hurtful, and Iâve been a perfect angel.â
He snorts, but thereâs an unmistakably fond twinkle in his eyes. âToday.â
âAlways! Iâm the best behaved on the team.â
Itâs true. Gaz and Soap are two bastard halves of the same bastard coin. And Ghost is a whole coin of his own, no matter how he pretends heâs above the sergeantsâ shenanigans. Itâs usually you that reminds them to keep the damage to a minimum, give the recruits a break, quit before Price hears.
âThatâs not saying much,â he huffs. âDonât think I donât know about the cat, Squeaks.â
You blink, smiling innocently. âCat, sir?â
He runs a hand down his face, but you clock his grin before he scrubs it away. âRight. Shut up and get to work.â
You hum and try not to look too smug. Donât want to get kicked out just yet.
Price gets the radio started and you return to the lab results, the two of you settling into a companionable rhythm. Between Ella Fitzgerald and Priceâs old-school loud-as-fuck keyboard, you have the perfect background noise to focus. The caffeine boost helps, keeps you from getting too drowsy once the rain starts pattering on the glass.
âHey, Price?â
Youâve been slipping up lately, forgetting your formalities. Not that Price is much of a stickler for it outside of missions and official meetings. Itâs a barrier youâve tried to keep for yourself, to stop your traitorous thoughts from gaining too much traction.
He hums in question, but you wait until heâs turned from his screen to offer the paper youâve been squinting at for the last several minutes.
âIs this an âaâ or a âdâ?â you ask.
He blinks, glances at where youâre pointing. Pauses. Flicks his gaze back to you, unimpressed.
âThis is your handwriting.â
âYes.â
He sighs and gives it another look. Then sits back.
âThatâs âoâ and âlâ.â
âOH.â
You write over it, making the two letters more distinct. Price watches with something like dread.
âThank you, sir!â
âChrist, Squeaks. Canât even read your own scribbles.â
âNo, but you can.â
Thereâs a part of you that really likes that. That he knows your handwriting better than you do, has read and deciphered enough of your reports or other notes to parse out the smallest difference between letters.
âNo, I canât. Write neater.â
âIâll try, sir.â
You wonât.
Itâs Task Force Specialty Training Day.
AKA: government-funded team bonding.
Youâre not sure how Price has managed to swing it â paintball guns, paint-âgrenadesâ (water balloons) â but youâre not about to complain. Heâs passing it off as a training exercise, and you will admit there is some merit to it. Practicing teamwork as a unit and between individuals, trying out tactics and strategies.
Itâs also a hell of a lot of fun.
Youâve been pairing up, one person taking a break each round with the odd number of people. Watching the showdown between Ghost-Soap and Gaz-Price was nerve-wracking and thrilling. The absolute thrashing of Gaz-Soap by Ghost-Price was downright horrifying. (Except for the part where the sergeants decided that if they couldnât win, theyâd at least go down being extra as hell, and for that you salute them.)
As for your team-ups, youâve had mixed successes.
Ghost is a win for all three matches â you manage to pull your weight before getting taken down on two rounds, and on the last one you âsurviveâ the whole way. Your lieutenant even fist-bumps you when itâs over, with a rare and coveted âgood jobâ tacked on the end.
You knew teaming up with Soap would be a riot. You win two rounds with him and lose one, the latter against the formidable Ghost-Price team that you learn dominates pretty much always. The two of you donât make it easy though. Rigging little traps, setting off red herrings, or just indiscriminately causing mayhem.
Working with Gaz proves the most mixed results. Two losses to one win â that being against Soap and Price, and only because the former lets himself be goaded into giving up their position at just the wrong time. Still, there are no hard feelings about your rocky matchups, just good-natured promises to improve together.
Itâs your rounds with Price that have been the most exhilarating. Youâve never had him and only him in your ear before, growling out orders. The neat little part of your brain thatâs so good at compartmentalizing has apparently decided to take a vacation today. Youâve been relentlessly horny since he purred that first âhow copy.â
Thankfully, youâve learned to adapt to operating while being attracted to your captain, so itâs not so different from any other exercise. Really, youâre hardwired to follow Priceâs commands at this point, reinforced by living another day when you do.
You just donât realize how hardwired until the last match against Soap and Ghost.
Price nods you into one of the tiny, gutted buildings through one of the windows. Heâs going to circle around, try to meet you in the middle. Simple maneuver, very effective. You just have to stay âalive.â
Inside the building, there are windows, wall cutouts, even boxes and barrels to provide cover. Youâre ducked behind one of these when you hear the pop-pop of a paintball gun. Then a yelp, a crash.
Ghost shouts, âMedic!â
âHold.â
Youâve never, never ignored a call for help before. Hesitation means lives in the field and youâre programmed to move before that second syllable is even out.
But Priceâs voice cuts through years of training and instinct, locks your muscles down, keeps you tucked behind a stack of crates. You donât even think, donât have time to think. It takes you a moment to process what just happened even as your body obeys.
Price said to hold, so you hold.
No sooner have you realized what youâve just done â or havenât done â than Ghost is sweeping around the corner. Deadly, silent, efficient. You can only just see the top of his head from your position.
âTake the shot when you have it.â
Ghost pivots to clear the other side of the room. You pop up, already firing. Hit him once, twice, three times. Stomach, chest, face. He grunts and goes down.
âFuck,â you whisper.
You never managed to shoot Ghost in any of your other rounds.
âStatus, Squeaks.â
You blink, still staring moon-eyed at your lieutenant, as if you actually just fucking killed him.
âTarget down, sir,â you say. âRepeat: Ghost is down.â
Thereâs another pop-pop, followed by heartfelt Scottish cursing.
âThatâs the game, love.â
Ghost is the only one there to hear the noise you make, thankfully. Youâre not even sure why. Itâs a term of endearment you hear all the time, even from Price, but never like that. Thick with pride and approval.
Ghost clears his throat, his gaze far too knowing. You jolt.
âSorry for shooting you in the face,â you say, scrambling over to him. âYou okay?â
âJust fine, sergeant,â he replies, pushing himself up. âDeserved it, I suppose.â
You hum. âThat was fucked up, sir.â
âAllâs fair,â he shrugs.
You scrunch your nose but offer your hand to help him up anyway. He takes it out of sportsmanship but doesnât put any weight into it to stand. Price and Soap find you a moment later. Soap looks disgruntled, splattered in fresh blue, but Price is grinning.
He makes a beeline straight for you, wraps his hand around the back of your neck, and presses your foreheads together. You suck in a breath but donât pull away. No, you pull him a little closer, fingers curling in the straps of his vest.
âBrilliant, Squeaks,â he praises, âas always.â
You swallow back the sound that threatens to crawl out of your throat, suspecting youâd sound like a mouse on crack. Price isnât as sparing with praise as Ghost, but itâs always hard-earned and exquisitely genuine. More importantly, he always says it like youâre his favorite person in the world at that moment.
âHow-how did you know?â you ask.
He pulls away and you try not to show your desperation for him to return.
âGhost calls you by name when itâs an emergency.â
You blink, shocked and awed (and a little frustrated with yourself). As always, your unwavering trust has been rewarded. Not just with victory, but with a long, heavy look from your captain that makes your heart flutter.
Price gives you one last pat to the head, and then the four of you file out to meet Gaz.
Towards the end of the session, Soap suggests the one activity youâve been dreading: royale.
Itâs a good chance to practice solo work, in the event that youâre separated from the rest of the team. Unlikely as it is to happen â youâre always paired up, and always watched like a hawk â the 141 isnât in the habit of entertaining weak spots.
So you suck it up, resupply your ammo, and dart off when the counter starts. Thirty seconds to develop a strategy and try to execute it. Soap had that look in his eye, so you feel confident that heâs going to make some noise and cause some chaos. Ghost is also an easy guess â stealth is his specialty, and no one has much of a counter for it.
While Gaz was a wild card with Soap earlier in the day, he tends to match the rhythm of whoever heâs paired with. Lacking backup for this round, you think his plan might be similar to yours: low profile, let the heavy hitters swing at each other.
As for Price⌠youâre not sure what he could be planning. He knows everyone on the team too well, is far too intimate with each operatorsâ strengths and weaknesses. Has to, given that in any other circumstances, youâre all on the same team, looking out for each other. Chances are though, heâll mark you as an easy target and go after you or Gaz (his usual teammate on two-person ops) first, leave Soapâs antics and Ghostâs general spookiness for last.
You post up outside of one of the little buildings, between two free-standing walls and wedged behind a barrel. It would be too small a space for any of the boys to risk, but for you itâs just the right fit to provide cover without immobilizing you.
When the horn sounds for the beginning of the match, you let out a breath and start counting. Youâll wait a single minute, then start around the perimeter. Youâre a decent enough shot that if you see someone from a distance, youâre willing to risk your position to fire at them.
At 45 seconds, you think you hear something. You quiet your breathing, straining to hear. Itâs coming from the nearby building. You peak around your safety, watching the window and open entrance for movement.
Thereâs a flicker of color, the rapid pops of fire and returned fire. Soapâs maniacal cackling, someone cursing, but hard to discern who. Probably Gaz. Itâs confirmed when you see the top of his baseball cap duck past the window. You pause, consider. Then grab one of the paint-filled water balloons and chuck it through the window as hard as you can.
Soap shouts something unintelligible. Then Gaz pops around the frame, already firing. Youâre lucky, though. He hits the barrel instead of you, and you fire off three shots. The last one hits him in the face shield, and he goes down with an overdramatic cry.
Fuck, thatâs twice today.
You take a paranoid glance around, then scurry into the building. You clear corners with slightly shaky hands, adrenaline hitting even though this isnât real, and you werenât even in the middle of it. You just canât believe that worked.
As you get to the doorway, you come across Soap, laid out with hot pink up his shin.
âOch!â he groans, throwing an arm over his face. âMa legâs gone!â
You snort. âWant me to put you out of your misery?â
âAye, ya cruel harpy! Send me on ma way to Hades.â
You roll your eyes. âSeen Ghost?â
âIâm about to be a ghost!â
From the room, you hear Gaz stifling laughter. You fire one last shot into Soapâs vest, right over his heart. He makes an oof noise then falls limp, spread-eagled like youâve truly done him in.
âDead now, you muppet?â you ask.
âAye, Iâm right deid. Pushinâ daisies.â
You grin even as you roll your eyes and continue into the room. Gaz is also lying there like a corpse. Per the rules of the game, you canât ask him about Ghost or Price since heâs technically âdead.â Still, you kneel down by him, poke him in the cheek.
âYou alright?â you ask. âI didnât mean to hit you in the face.â
âYeah, Iâm fine,â he assures, patting your wrist. âHey, you want a candy?â
He unzips one of his vest pockets, revealing a little trove of Jolly Ranchers. Classic flavor, good choice.
âOh, hell yeah,â you whisper, fishing out a blue one. âYouâve had these the whole time?â
âForgot about them, honestly.â
You grin and pluck up another.
âOi, Squeaks, get me a red one!â Soap calls. Too loud.
You shoot him an annoyed look. âShut up! Youâre gonna blow my spot!â
Still, you grab him a red one and drop it on his face before moving on. Gameâs not over yet, after all. They each give you five seconds to clear the area before they come over the universal comm channel, announcing that theyâre out.
You duck into a room on the first floor, take a moment to pop a candy into your mouth and shove the wrapper in your pocket. Then debate your next move.
Itâs insane luck that you managed to catch them both. Right place, right time, right opportunity. That unfortunately also leaves you up against the two teammates that scare you most. Youâve already gotten Ghost once today, doubt that youâll manage it again. Price will also definitely come after you before trying for Ghost.
Meaning⌠well, youâre probably fucked. And not even in a fun way, dammit.
Sighing, you creep from cover, trying to think of a strategy other than hide and pray they take each other out. Youâre a little too chicken-shit to leave the cover of the building. Itâs small, maneuverable, and â most importantly â youâve already cleared it. Thereâs âroofâ access if you risk ascending the metal staircase on the exterior.
You pop your head out to triple-check the area, but thereâs no sign of either of your superior officers. Heart rabbiting, you take the stairs as quickly and quietly as you can, immediately flatten yourself on your stomach when you reach the roof.
Well, at least you managed that.
You shimmy into position with the staircase to your right, trying to keep it within view. Then you settle to wait.
The one part of sniping thatâs always been a struggle for you is the waiting. Ghost can sit there for hours, silent and still, just watching. You, however, need something to do. Even the most tedious parts of medical care require you to actively do something, or you have someone to talk to.
For a while, you entertain yourself by clicking the jolly rancher around your teeth, hoping it doesnât turn them blue. When that one is finished, you fiddle the other one out of its wrapper and pop that in, wrinkling your nose at the mixed flavor. Still, itâs something other than tearing up the inside of your mouth with your teeth while you keep a wary eye on the playing grounds.
Not that thereâs much to see. Not a damn thing.
You sigh, wondering what Ghost and Price are even up to. Probably found each other and are having a really intense staring contest from their respective points of cover. Perhaps trading clever one-liners.
God, you should have let Soap shoot you while he was still âalive.â Let yourself âbleed outâ and then skulked off when the one-minute timer for âfatalâ wounds was up.
The longer you sit here, the more your body wants to relax into complacence. And, paradoxically, the more wound up you get. Hurry up and wait, as the boys say. Youâre used to it on missions, and usually busy yourself by taking everyone elseâs minds off of it. Right now itâs a special kind of torture when you donât even have the threat of actually dying to keep you on edge.
Just your captain and the lieutenant who, while scary in their own way, only have paint to threaten you with.
A hand grips your ankle and yanks.
You yelp, startled, as youâre flipped onto your back. The paintball gun is ripped from your hands and tossed aside in a tinny clatter. Out of instinct, you put your arms up to protect your face and neck, jerking the leg not being held. Your knee hits the back of your assailantâs, knocking them down onto your hip, pinning your torso.
You lash out at his midsection, get exactly one softened punch in. Then the hand on your leg wraps around your wrist and slams it into the concrete beside your head. The next thing you feel is the barrel of a gun against your temple and you freeze. Thereâs a beat of deafening silence. You slowly lift your other hand up.
âThereâs a good girl,â Priceâs voice rumbles. âJust surrender.â
You let out a shaky breath, heart thundering for an entirely new reason.
âEyes open, lamb.â
You hadnât even realized you closed them. His eyes are so fucking bright when you meet them, bluer than the perfect spring sky above you.
âYou scared the hell out of me,â you manage, voice pitchy.
He hums, never dropping your gaze, never loosening his grip. Youâre well and truly trapped.
âYou let your guard down,â he replies, though it doesnât sound quite like the reprimand he probably intends it to be. âPulled myself up from the window behind you.â
Ah, right. You couldnât have managed that distance without help, but of course he could. Fuck, you wish you could have seen him do it.
âGlad it was you,â you breathe, too honest.
His brows arch. âThat so?â
âYes, sir.â
You shift, trying to relieve the maddening pressure of his thigh between yours. Get a warning squeeze to your wrist and go still again, all too aware of the heat radiating off him, seeping through thin layers of fabric. You want to writhe, rub up against him like an animal until heâs soaked. You pray that when he pulls away, there wonât be a wet spot on his pants.
âAnd whyâs that, hm?â
Because you liked getting caught by him. Because you wouldnât want anyone else between your legs, holding a gun (even a fake one) to your head. Because youâre hoping that heâll leave bruises on your wrist when he finally lets you go.
âJust seems right, as my captain.â
He hums like he doesnât believe you.
âDid you take out Gaz and Soap?â he asks.
âYes, sir.â
His eyes flash with unmistakable pride. You nearly whimper when his thumb sweeps over the delicate skin of your wrist. A new and ridiculously arousing version of his usual head pat.
âThatâs my girl,â he practically purrs.
Your face feels scorching hot and thereâs no good excuse for it if Price notices. Maybe heâll just think itâs embarrassment at being caught.
âNow, before we finish up hereââ God, you wish he would finish you here. âHave you seen Ghost from this perch, little bird?â
You donât even hesitate to offer up information. Price could ask for your Social Security at this moment, and youâd happily write it down for him.
âNorthwest, ten oâclock. Thought I saw movement, but it was too far to take a shot. Was just keeping an eye on it.â
His smile is absolutely sinful as he straightens up and drops the handgun to fire a single shot against your chest, just like youâd done to Soap. Itâs the hottest thing youâve ever seen. And then, to your mixed relief and disappointment, he shifts back and lets you go, giving you space to wiggle out from under him.
âAre you broken?â he asks. âWasnât too rough, was I?â
âDonât mind a little rough.â Itâs out of your mouth before you can think about it even once.
âI-I mean,â you fumble, scrabbling for your gun and looking anywhere but him. âIâm not fragile, that is. Iâm â you didnât â not broken, sir.â
And before he can respond, you practically throw yourself off the roof. Thatâs about as much humiliation as you can take. You donât stick around to see the end of the match, instead make a beeline for the restroom to clean yourself up.
Not that itâll matter, you think, only a little self-pitying, theyâre just going to get ruined when I see him again.
If the captain was planning to say anything about your semi-inappropriate fumble on the rooftop, you donât get to hear it.
No sooner have you returned to base and showered off the paint than youâre informed by Laswell of a new assignment.
A freshly formed squad with a newly promoted captain. Theyâre waiting for their actual medic to be transferred from a field hospital, held up by the shuffling of personnel to fill in the gaps. But since the 141 is between operations, your skill and experience make you a good candidate for a temporary placement.
Youâre scheduled to ship out in two hours, and you havenât eaten since lunch â was planning to go out for food and drink with the boys. You still have to pack your bag, your equipment, restock your supplies.
âSqueaks, settle down. Youâve got plenty of time.â
âYes, captain.â
Price sighs. You cast him an apologetic glance, but only see sympathy and what might be worry in his expression. His arms are crossed tight across his chest, hat tilted so that with his head ducked the way it is, you canât see his eyes.
âSweetheartâŚâ he tries again.
âI justââ You press your lips together, ashamed, but he nods for you to continue. You lace your fingers together, twisting and bending digits to the point of discomfort. âI-I like it here. I donât want to⌠I know this is part of the job sometimes, but I just⌠I feel like I work well with you, and Iâm worried aboutâŚâ
A warm, calloused hand takes your chin between thumb and forefinger, guides your face up.
âLook at me, love.â
You swallow audibly as you obey, expecting reprimand or impatience. You feel stupid and childish. Priceâs gaze isnât judgmental, though. Itâs searching, bouncing across your features and between your eyes like heâs trying to read all the things hidden between your words.
I like it here with you. Iâm your medic, not anyone elseâs. Iâm worried that this will be like every team before the 141. Iâm afraid I wonât measure up to whatever they expect, that theyâll take me away from you after this.
Whatever he sees (and you fear itâs something far too close to the truth) it causes his expression to shift. Something similar to what you see when a mission is going south. That determination and confidence thatâs as firm as the ground you walk on. A look that declares we will survive, and we will win.
âListen here, sergeant,â he commands. Your spine straightens, shoulders back, but you donât pull away from the gentle hold on your chin. âYou are 141; you are one of mine. You get this over with and come back to me in one piece. Do whatever it takes to make that happen. Your place will be right here waiting when you do. Understood?â
âUnderstood, sir.â Your voice is barely more than a breath, canât get enough air in your lungs.
His hand shifts to the back of your neck, so wide heâs cradling the base of your skull. He tilts your head and for a heart-stopping moment you think heâs going to kiss you. Youâd let him, right here in the open doorway to your barrack. Want him to.
Then his forehead touches yours. Itâs almost better than a kiss. Just as intimate, more grounding. Itâs what you need right now. To have him here breathing with you, showing that youâll be missed. That he has faith in you but will be worried every moment youâre not under the watchful eye of the 141. Of him.
Your eyelids flutter as you focus on his warmth, his scent. Let yourself be soothed.
âTell me,â he orders.
âIâm 141, one of yours,â you repeat obediently, voice soft and a little hoarse. âIâll come home to you in one piece, whatever it takes.â
âGood girl.â
He shifts, the soft hairs of his beard brushing your skin, and then you feel his lips on your forehead. A sweet goodbye, maybe even a promise.
âGet your bag. Iâll see you off.â
âYes, sir.â
Despite everything, the sight of the 141âs base through the plane window fills you with overwhelming relief. Youâve fulfilled your promise; youâve come home to Price and the boys.
Itâs only once youâre wheels-down and unclipping from your harness that the trepidation seeps in again. The weight of Captain Fuckfaceâs disapproving stare gets heavier with each second that itâs about to find an outlet with your own captain.
Once the ramp is lowered, he steps out first with a barked call for you to follow. As if you had anywhere else to go. Still, you set your jaw and fall in, pacing yourself to stay behind him all the way to the tarmac.
Your boys are waiting for you. Even Ghost, surly motherfucker with his arms crossed. Heâs still there. And youâre struck with almost debilitating dĂŠjĂ vu. An arrival similar to this one, skittering out from a plane as a new transfer, nervous and trying not to be. Your team lined up to meet you, even though you didnât realize at the team how much they would really be yours.
And Captain Price, your captain. A step in front of the rest with a small, crooked smile on his face. He looks more tired than last you saw him a month ago. Darker circles, deeper frown lines. They start to ease when he sees you approaching, only to reappear just as quickly when your expression becomes clearer.
His eyes dart to your temporary captain, to the grim expression thatâs probably painting his face.
You wish you were happier to be home.
âCaptain Price.â
âCaptain Dillard. Successful mission?â
âWe managed to get the job done.â
The unspoken âno thanks to herâ is loud. Down the line, each member of the 141 shifts, frowns, glances between you and Captain Fuckface. To your gratification, they all seem dubious. Even Ghost.
âI see,â Price says slowly. His eyes flick to you. âBroken, sergeant?â
âSheâs fine. We can debrief now.â
Price shoots him a razor-sharp look. âDidnât realize you demoted yourself to sergeant.â
You swallow back a snort of laughter, choose the high road. âNot broken, sir. Iâm solid for debrief.â
Price gives you a onceover, heavy and worried. But you really are fine â physically at least. With a nod, he and the other captain lead the way back into base. The rest of the 141 fall back to walk with you, doing their own check-ins.
âBunch âa wankers, eh?â Gaz asks.
You duck your head, keep your voice quiet. âA bit, yeah.â
âAdmitting you like us, then?â Soap teases. Thereâs tension around his eyes, a careful way he gauges your reaction when he loops an arm around your neck.
âLike you better than them, at least,â you say, trying for humor. Your tone just misses the mark, but he laughs like normal anyway. Youâre unspeakably grateful. âProbably just because Iâm stuck with you muppets.â
Soap scoffs, ruffling your hair. Itâs familiar and friendly and what you need after being away for what feels like a year.
âYou make us proud, Squeaks?â Ghost asks.
You know itâs just his way of checking on you. His tone implies that the answer is an obvious âyes,â but you canât help the way you flinch a little. All the attempted good humor disappears.
âTried to, sir.â
Thereâs a heavy moment of silence. Before it can be broken, you have to turn the corner towards Priceâs office. You follow the two captains inside, settle at parade rest by the door. Price notices the unusual behavior but doesnât question aloud, only narrows his eyes fractionally.
âRight then,â he begins, âwhatâs this about?â
âCaptain Price, Agent Laswell led me to believe that the 141 is the best the SAS has to offer,â Fuckface begins. âBut what Iâve seen from your medic this past month makes me wonder what kind of standards youâre being held to.â
Price holds up a hand. âIâm going to stop you right there. Sergeant?â
You swallow despite how dry your mouth feels. âYes, sir?â
âWait outside.â
âYes, sir.â
You slip out with as much composure as you can, wait until the door is closed to slump against the wall. Youâre exhausted, nerves shot, just want to curl up in the common room surrounded by your squad and their good-natured chaos.
You â fuck â you just want a hug.
Itâs about ten minutes that you stand there, leaning into the wall, wishing for this to be over with already. When you hear boots and see a shadow moving near the door, you straighten up into parade rest again.
Captain Fuckface opens the door looking smarmy, the asshole. Behind him, Price is standing over his desk, hands planted on its cluttered surface. He looks composed on the surface, but you can see that heâs pissed beneath. Your stomach sinks.
âSergeant,â he practically barks, âa word.â
You wait until Captain Fuckface has exited before skirting inside, closing the door behind you. Thereâs a beat of silence. Youâre sure you must be pale as your lieutenantâs namesake by now.
âYou know what he just told me?â Price asks, voice low.
âSome idea, sir.â
âYou want to tell me your side?â
âIââ You blink, words caught, frustration making your eyes water. Yes, you want to tell him. You want to explain every stupid miscommunication and misrepresentation that must have been told about your temporary assignment. All that comes out is a rough exhale, fists so tight behind your back that your palms hurt.
âSqueaks. Sweetheart.â
You tear your eyes away from the floor. Didnât realize how badly you needed to hear him calling you that. Or to see that warm, patient look on his face.
âStop standing there like an FNG. Come here.â
You drop out of parade rest and nearly scramble across the room. Not to the chair you usually lounge in, on the other side of his desk. No, you make a beeline for him, crash into his open arms with a bitten off sob.
âIt fucking sucked,â you mumble.
âI gathered.â
You sniffle away any embarrassing tears and focus on your captain, all of him surrounding you again. His arms are sturdy and strong, squeezing you just this side of too tight. The scent of cigars and beard oil and gunpowder soak into you. You press your face against his chest, hear the strong, steady thump of his heart and could swear that yours is trying to follow along.
âTell me,â he says after a moment.
âSir,â you say, pulling away. Try to keep your voice at a reasonable level. âI tried. I did everything I usually do. By the book, even. He wouldnât listen, sir. Told me Iâd be reprimanded if I tried to go over his head.â
He nods. âI figured as much from what he said about you â insubordinate. Difficult to work with. He also said you were slow to follow orders.â
You close your eyes for a second, suck in a breath. Of course he said that. Itâs not even untrue.
âThought that was odd,â Price continues, âwhen I have every experience showing me the opposite.â
You blink, dart your eyes up to his. He smooths a hand through your hair and youâre helpless to do anything but lean into it. Needing comfort, needing reassurance.
âYou have a hard time listening to people you donât trust, huh?â he asks.
You stare, mouth parted like any moment youâll muster up enough brain cells for an actual reply.
âItâs a note in your file from past COs. That youâre shy around authority. Even Ghost said something about it during your first couple missions with him,â he continues. âThought Iâd have to keep an eye on it, but youâve never hesitated to follow orders since then. Not with Ghost, and never with me.â
You nod because itâs true. Too many COs trying to ignore your medical decisions, too many of them that let dying men run back into battle. Always thinking twice if you should listen and fall in line or call for evac and possibly be the reason a mission fails.
âYouâre not insubordinate or difficult to work with. Youâre the best fucking medic in the service and they were bloody stupid for not realizing the favor we did them by loaning you out.â
You blink away another wave of tears, realize your hands are curled into his shirt but canât make yourself let go.
âYou-youâreâŚâ
âYeah, Iâm on your side, love.â You feel him smirk as he presses his lips to your forehead. âHonestly, Squeaks. What did I tell you? Youâre mine. Iâm not about to believe some puffed up kid that just got his third pip over my medic.â
And he says it so simply, so obviously, that you feel silly for all your anxiety. Of course Price believes you. Heâs your captain. You trust him more than anyone. Possibly ever. And for damn good reason
âYessir,â you breathe, nudging your face against his.
âGood. Now let that wanker back in and then come stand behind me.â
And as always, itâs not even a conscious thought to follow orders. You swing the door open, then pivot on your heel and stand just by Priceâs elbow at picture perfect parade rest.
Captain Fuckface swaggers back in, drops into the seat across from Priceâs desk. You keep your expression even and calm.
âI wonât tell you how to reprimand your people, Price, but I hope this isnât an issue we have the next time we borrow one of yours.â
You wish you could see Priceâs expression, because you could swear the temperature in the office drops to freezing.
âBorrow?â Price repeats, chuckling. Itâs not nice. âI wouldnât lend you a fucking pen, never mind a member of my team again.â
Yeah, itâs good to be home.
Youâre happily snoozing when someone jostles you, trying to get their arms between your back and the cushions. Itâs too soon after being gone. You flail, panicked. The only thing you remember is falling asleep near Price, and now someone (who is not Price, they donât smell right) is trying to move you away from him.
You push out with your arm, catch fabric, hear a grunt. The hold on you loosens and you fumble around the figure leaning over you.
âJohn,â bursts out of your mouth, automatic as breathing.
âSweetheart?â
You stumble towards his voice, not even fully awake but seeking him out, knowing heâll keep you safe. And then heâs scooping you up, letting you cling. Sheltering you while you blink, taking stock of the situation.
Youâre still in Priceâs office where you fell asleep after he unceremoniously dismissed Captain Fuckface. Ghost is standing by the couch, hands up in the universal âunarmedâ gesture. (Never mind that he is most definitely armed⌠somewhere.) Price has you cuddled up on his lap now, one arm around your legs and the other supporting your back. Making gentle circles with his thumb through your shirt.
âOh,â you hum, âsorry, LT.â
âYouâre alright, Squeaks,â he says, adjusting his mask. âWas just gonna get you to bed.â
âOh.â You donât want to go to bed, even though you can see that itâs well into night by now. You want to stay here with your captain. âIâm awakeâŚâ
âIâve got her from here, Ghost.â
And it says something, probably, that Ghost doesnât even pause. Just nods and quietly exits. Itâs only then that you realize youâre still snuggled into your captainâs lap and while you really, really donât want to leave, this is more than a little compromising. You shift, start to pull away.
âSorry, sir,â you say, face warming, âI was justââ
âStay.â
You stay, blinking in surprise. âSirâŚ?â
âYouâre allowed to call me John, sweetheart. You did just now.â
Ohhhhhh no. No, no. He canât do this to you. Not now. Not when youâre on his lap and heâs driving away the chill from sleep and youâve been dreaming about him for the past month straight â and long before that, honestly.
âI-youââ you start but donât know how to finish.
âSqueaks,â he murmurs, quieting you, âthereâs something I want to run by you. I trust youâll tell me what you think like always.â
Confused by the shift, you nod where youâre tucked under his jaw, knowing heâll feel it.
âYou like it when I call you mine.â You make a winded noise, but he just keeps talking like he didnât just unceremoniously turn your world upside down. âYou like that you belong to more than just this squad. You like that you belong to me.â
He lets that sink into the air between you, and all you can do is stare at his desk, shocked speechless.
âYou like when everyone else calls you Squeaks, but you like it more when I call you sweetheart or lamb or love. And I think you said exactly what you meant when I caught you during the royale.â
You barely dare to breathe, wondering where this is going, what heâs going to say next. Alright, so you havenât been subtle, you know that. But you figured there was a mutual unspoken agreement to ignore your unprofessional utter devotion.
âI also thinkâŚâ Here he finally pauses. You feel him swallow, his fingers flexing where heâs holding you. He takes a deep breath like heâs the one bracing himself. âI think that if you want something more, you wonât say anything because youâre afraid it would risk your spot on this team.â
You bite the inside of your cheek, hands tightening in his shirt. The silence is all the confirmation he needs.
âSo Iâm going to tell you this before anything else. There is nothing you could do to jeopardize your position here. Your place will always be with us for as long as you want it.â
You pry your voice from where it feels lodged in your chest. âEven⌠even if I screw up?â
Screw us up.
He chuckles. âWe all make mistakes, Squeaks. Youâd still have me if I screwed up, wouldnât you?â
You donât even hesitate. âOf course.â
âThereâs your answer.â He adjusts a little, tucks you against his shoulder so that he can card his fingers through your hair. âWeâre a team. We communicate, we work together. No unilateral moves or heroes.â
That sounds⌠fuck, that sounds lovely.
âThat said, if you donât want something more with me, for any reason â or even no reason at all â nothing has to change. Iâm still your captain, youâre still my medic. This is still your squad.â
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Youâre too overwhelmed, half-convinced that this is just another dream. That youâll wake up on Priceâs office couch, to him gently and platonically ushering you off to bed.
âYou donât have to have an answer now,â he offers after a beat.
You already have your answer. Itâs not something you have to think about when youâve long made peace with your feelings.
âI-I wantâŚâ You gather your courage. Remind yourself that he wants this too. He wants you. âIâve always been yours, John. From the moment we met.â
He exhales hard, ruffling your hair. His grip on you tightens again.
âMen like me donât know how to love casually, darling. Canât say things like that âless you mean it.â
âI do.â
You really do.
He coaxes you from the safety of his chest, draws you back to get a good look at your face. You stubbornly meet his eyes. Thereâs concern, uncharacteristic uncertainty. Heâs just as nervous as you are. He doesnât know how this is going to go either; if you two will be able to balance rank and duty with a romantic partnership. But beneath that, you see your own longing mirrored back at you and an adoration that makes your heart ache.
Carefully, you slide your hands up his chest, over his neck, to his face. Like heâll bolt if you move too quickly. Your nails scrape gently through his beard, eliciting a shiver that you catalogue for later. One hand cups his cheek, thumb sweeping beneath his eye. The other traces delicate fingers up a strong jaw, over his temple, card into the fine silk of his hair.
You hope it communicates anything your expression doesnât. That you want him in every way heâll allow. That what you feel for him is anything but casual. The shock is still there, a film of static over your racing thoughts, but youâre certain that this â that he â is what you want.
âAlright, love,â he rasps. âI believe you. Just⌠for my own piece of mind, sleep on it?â
You frown, open your mouth to protest. The words die on your tongue when he takes your jaw in hand, thumb pressing gently to your chin. Even his silent orders you follow like religion.
âI promise Iâll still want you tomorrow,â he says, âbut weâve waited this long. Another day wonât hurt.â
You huff, but he can already see acceptance in the tilt of your head. Still, youâre sure to make your displeasure known by tugging at a bit of hair. Not hard, but enough to get the point across. Enough to make him grunt and eye you in exasperation.
âBrat,â he grumbles.
You shift on his lap, a grin tugging at your lips. You like this new nickname. âYour brat.â
âMm.â His eyes go half-lidded. âYouâre trouble.â
ââM not!â
The hand still on your jaw tightens a little, warning. âBehave for me a little longer and Iâll make it worth your while.â
You shiver, know from the look on his face that youâve been made. Well, in for a penny and all that.
âBut siiiiir,â you whine.
âHush, none of that,â he scolds, but thereâs unmistakable fondness.
âYou canât just offer me all this and then tell me Iâve gotta wait,â you complain.
He arches an eyebrow. âOh, I canât, can I?â
That low, rough tone washes over you like fingers down your spine. So fucking hot itâs unfair. You want to get on your knees â no, you want John to put you on your knees. Order you to kneel, sit still, behave. Youâd do it, too, even as you would mouth off.
âItâs cruel and unusual,â you accuse.
He chuckles, shakes his head. His thumb sweeps in a gentle arch over your cheek. âHow about something to tide you over?â
You perk up. Thereâs an amused twist to his mouth that makes you bubbly and warm.
And then heâs sliding his hand to the back of your head and guiding you down. Instead of leaning your foreheads together like usual, he tilts his chin and slants his mouth over yours.
You squeak in surprise, then go loose and pliant. Close your eyes and lean into him, knowing heâll support you. Sink into the surprising softness of his lips, the tickle of his beard on your skin. Breathe him in and count his heartbeats beneath your palm, a touch faster than usual. Itâs instantly addicting.
He keeps it chaste, but itâs like a feast after starvation, so much contact and intimacy where youâve always tried not to take too many liberties. You press. Want him closer, closer, closer. He wraps his other arm low around your ribs, just above your waist. Hugs you tight against him. You wish you could straddle him, but that would involve pulling away, moving, not kissing so you take what you can instead.
It's too soon that he pulls away, shushing you when you whine.
âJohnâŚâ
âPoor dear,â he coos, kissing your nose. âRight bastard, arenât I?â
You nuzzle against his cheek. âNot a bastard,â you sulk.
âOh, I am, love. Just your bastard.â
You hum in delight; know he can feel your stupid smile but canât bring yourself to care. The two of you stay that way for a while longer. You, curled up on his lap like itâs where you want to stay for the rest of your life. Him, holding you like he never wants to put you down.
Eventually, though, you both chance a look at the clock and he sighs.
âOff to bed with you, lamb. You need it after all the shit you put up with.â
And while you want to argue, a huge yawn ambushes you at the word âbedâ and you know to pick your battles. Besides, youâve been dozing on his lap for the last few minutes, hypnotized by everything John Price.
âYou too,â you mumble, pressing a sleepy kiss to his temple. âI know you havenât been resting well.â
âAlright, love.â
You linger as he shuts down his office and locks the door, then fall into step towards the barracks. Itâs late enough that you donât pass anyone, but even if you did, itâs not unusual for you and the captain to be up or walking together. It is, however, unusual for him to draw you close by your waist at your door.
You set your hands on his chest, curl your fingers a little to revel in the hard muscles beneath. His arm around you is so fucking thick, strong with decades of training and work. Youâre desperate to see it all for yourself, to feel him beneath your hands, your body.
Despite your less-than-PG thoughts, the kiss he leaves you with is achingly sweet. Itâs like something out of one of those chick-flicks Gaz pretends he doesnât watch. Slow and purposeful, like heâs got all the time in the world to torture himself with just a taste of you. No wonder the girls in those movies are always swooning.
âGoodnight, love,â he murmurs against your lips.
âGoodnight, John,â you whisper. âSweet dreams.â
âThey always are with you,â he says, winking.
Itâs stupid and corny and you canât believe how warm your face feels as you roll your eyes, feigning exasperation.
âGet out of here before you give me ideas,â you huff.
He hums, presses one last, perfect kiss to your forehead. âThink youâve got enough already. Canât wait to try them all out.â
And with that, he continues down the hall, leaving you to a night of slightly frustrated (but incredibly happy) sleep.
The next day is early as usual, but youâve been given a single day of grace to recover from the month-long assignment. You spend it with the boys drilling recruits. Youâre not doing any training, ostensibly there as medical supervision in case of mishaps â but mostly just enjoying your squadâs company.
Soap and Gaz fill you in on all the mayhem they caused while you were away, with Ghost interjecting the punishments and reprimands they received without you there to smooth things over with Price.
âSpeaking of!â Soap adds, looping an arm around your shoulders. âAsk the old man if we can go into town tonight.â
âWhat for?â
He scoffs. ââWhat ferâ, she asks. To welcome ya back, ya daft chook!â
Youâre as touched as you are confused. âI wasnât gone that long?â
âAye, but itâs the longest youâve ever been gone, and it was proper dreich without you here.â
Gaz nods with his arms crossed, trying to look sage but mostly looking like a muppet.
âGhost didnât have anyone to toss around, and Price was dead chuffed.â
Huh. You glance at the lieutenant, the only responsible one whoâs still keeping an eye on the recruits. But, sensing your gaze, he flicks you a look. He would seem disinterested to the unfamiliar viewer, but you clock a twitch around his eyes like heâs smiling.
âAsk him.â
You hum. âAlright, I will. But why me?â
âBecause you havenât been around to piss him off,â Soap says.
âAnd he wonât say no if he thinks itâs your idea,â Gaz adds.
âYouâre going to see him in a bit anyway. Might as well,â Ghost muses.
Which, well. Yes, you are. Youâve got a backlog of records to catch up on, and youâre looking forward to doing so with John â even if it stays just the usual routine with no romantic overtures involved. Still, it should probably worry you that youâre so predictable.
You also want to ask about what Gaz meant, but you already know. The other sergeants have been sending you off to John with requests and bad news for a while now. At first, they said, because you were the newbie. By the time the ânewbieâ excuse was null, you didnât mind being the one to seek your captain out upon request. But itâs a pattern that youâve suspected for a while now, all but confirmed last night: John just doesnât say no to you.
Except, apparently, when you want to ride him until his office chair breaks.
When you pop by his office after lunch (with food you brought from the cafeteria, because youâre a saint and you know it) the pattern holds true, and John agrees to take the squad for drinks. You grin, drop a kiss on his head as you fire off a text to Soap, who will surely let the others know.
You two donât get to indulge much more than a few chaste kisses, unfortunately. The new evening plans mean that you both have to kick it into overdrive if you want to be finished with work in time to leave. You satisfy yourself by pressing your knee against his and sitting in his lap during breaks.
When the sun gets low, the rest of the team invades the office. You and John change into civvies, then meet up with the rest of the boys at the garage. John gets behind the wheel, you climb into the backseat between Soap and Ghost, while Gaz takes the passenger side.
The drive into town is lighthearted and high-spirited, chattering on about more things you missed while you were away. The bar is one of a handful that the squad rotates through to avoid establishing traceable patterns. This one has billiards, a foosball table, and a couple of old school arcade games in the back. During the season, they play Premier League on the TV screens, but right now itâs just reruns of old championship games.
You like the booths at this one, tall and rounded so that you can see and hear your whole team.
Soap pulls ahead to claim a table near the back, the first one in. Ghost slides in after him on the end facing the door. Gaz takes Soapâs other side, and you hop in behind him, scooching to make room for John.
âIâll get us the first round, yeah?â he asks.
You ask for cider, craving something sweet and bubbly. Gaz and Soap get whatever seasonal beer is on tap. Ghost hops out of the booth to help carry the drinks.
John settles next to you when they return, his thigh a warm, hard line against yours. Whatever is in his glass is a warm honey brown.
âWanna try?â he offers. âHave to do it before you drink the cider though. Youâll hate it otherwise.â
Youâre already picking up the tumbler, humming. âProbably going to hate it anyway,â you muse, sniffing suspiciously.
âChrist, Squeaks,â Ghost gruffs, âitâs whiskey, not rotten milk.â
You wrinkle your nose at him, safe across the table and with John at your elbow. Then you take a sip. Itâs nasty (as expected) and burns all the way to your stomach. But your reaction gets a chuckle out of the table, and you insist that one day youâll like it. Still, you hand it back to John and quickly chase it with your own drink.
Conversation swings around to your own experiences while away. You try to keep it vague, knowing that your boys are protective. Overall, not bad to see how another team operates, but overjoyed to be returning to yours.
After the first round, Soap goads you into a game of billiards and Gaz follows along to play the winner. Ghost and John wave you three off, saying theyâll hold the booth and maybe order some food for the table.
Gaz retrieves the next round of drinks while you and Soap set up, then cheers on whoever happens to be losing at the moment â or whoever has his favor. You lose (because Soap is a pool shark) and Gaz doesnât look like heâs doing any better. Across the bar, you make eye contact with Ghost. He visibly sighs, rolls his eyes. He says something that makes John chuckle before hopping out of the booth.
âHe being insufferable?â he asks when youâre in earshot.
You both glance over as Soap crows something in purposefully thick brogue. Whatever he says, the tone is unmistakable.
âRight.â
Ghost pats your shoulder as he passes to challenge Soap to a round. It looks like Gaz is salty enough about losing to stay and watch the decimation about to happen. Which means that you have the perfect opportunity to cuddle up with your captain.
But firstâ
âGoing to get another,â you say when you stop by the booth, âwant anything?â
âAnother, please, love,â John replies, tapping his glass.
You nod, take your empties back to the bar. Itâll be a minute until the bartender can come around, busy with a new group that just walked in. Youâre not in any rush, so you lean against the countertop and wait patiently, offering a polite smile when she makes eye contact.
You entertain yourself in the meantime with thoughts of John. He told you to sleep on it last night, and you did. Ruminated on the potential changes to your relationship, professional and personal. The potential changes in your relationships with the rest of the team. Any nervousness that arises is always tamped down by the reminder that itâs John. You know him, trust him with anything and everything.
You can trust him to be your partner in this relationship, whichever way it goes.
Of course, as is the general state of the universe, itâs then that someone sidles up to you. That sixth sense for Men⢠that most female-presenting people unfortunately develop starts to ping. Oh no.
âSorry, itâs pretty crowded,â he says, a little too close and a little too loud, âhard to find a seat.â
Well, at least it wasnât some shitty pick-upâ
âBut my lap is open for you.â
Aaaand there it is.
âIâm good,â you deadpan.
Instead of accepting the brush off â or even just scoffing that youâre a bitch and storming away â he laughs. All good-natured and familiar, like this is normal banter between you two.
âOkay, okay, sorry. I know it was a bad line, but I was hoping it would get a laugh.â
You arch an eyebrow, unimpressed by the attempt to backtrack. âMaybe stick to your day job.â
He chuckles, scratches the back of his head in a way thatâs probably meant to be endearing. You think he looks like a knob. âWell, shit as the military pays, itâs better than what I hear comedians make.â
Surprised, you give him another once over, reassessing. Definitely military, you realize. Itâs all in the stance, the way his too-tight t-shirt is tucked into his jeans. Also the haircut â recruit fuzz. Are they even allowed off-base?
He misunderstands your extended look and edges closer. His arm brushes yours. Someone is on your other side, so you shift your weight away as much as you can and try to ignore it.
âIâve never seen you around here before,â he says. âOut of towner?â
You snort. He canât have been here more than a month, what would he know about regulars?
âNo,â you answer, âIâm up at the base too.â
âOh, yeah?â he asks, giving you his own (too slow, so inappropriate) onceover.
âYeah.â
Blessedly, the bartender stops by so you can order. Thank god itâs easy-to-pour drinks and not a cocktail with six ingredients.
âDamn,â the recruit chuckles, âa little forward, but I like a woman who knows what she wants. Whiskeyâs not really my thing, though.â
You open your mouth to correct him, but he scoops up the tumbler almost as soon as the bartender sets it down and takes a big swig. The words wither as you stare, appalled. Itâs so ridiculous that you have to mentally rewind to be sure that â yes, that really did just happen.
âOh, sorry,â he smirks, leaning towards you. âWant a taste?â
You jerk back, about to punch the living daylights out of him. Then a shadow falls over you. The smell of cigars cuts through the stink of the bar and the recruitâs godawful cologne.
âIs that my fucking drink?â John growls.
âIt was,â you sigh, leaning into him. Out of sight, his hand settles on your hip, thumb slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.
The recruitâs eyes go big and round, blood draining from his face. âO-oh, sirââ
âWell, boy? You going to waste good whiskey on my dime?â John demands.
Somehow, the recruit gets even paler. The bartender, entirely uninterested in whatever drama is happening, slides your drink over and then nods when you ask for another whiskey.
âGo on, then,â John rumbles. You can feel it where your shoulders brush his chest.
With a trembling hand, the recruit downs the rest of the whiskey, though he nearly chokes on it this time. John tsks, thanks the bartender as a new glass is set down. This shouldnât be nearly as arousing as it is, your captain putting the fear of god in some idiot with bad manners.
âSir,â the recruit manages. âI-I didnât realize that you â that this is yourââ
Heâs not referring to the drink though. His gaze is darting to you. To the 141 insignia on the jacket youâre wearing. And youâre flooded with memories over the last several months.
âYouâre the new medic?â a nurse inquires, looking at your paperwork.
âOh, youâre the 141âs, right?â a physician asks. âYou can deal with your captain, then.â
âYouâre one of Priceâs 141, arenât you?â
âJust what I would expect from Captain Priceâs medic.â
âOh, Christ, youâre Priceâs. The medic.â
âYouâre one of mine.â
Oh.
You blink, remembering what John said the night before: âMen like me donât know how to love casually.â
No. No, he really doesnât. You have zero issue with that.
âWord of advice, mate,â John drawls, âif a woman looks like she doesnât want to talk to you, she fucking doesnât.â
You hum in agreement, scoop up the new whiskey and offer it, knowing your cheeks are rosy from more than just alcohol. His gaze is molten when he looks down at you. Whatever expression youâre making, it seems to both wind him up and defuse him from ripping the recruit a new one.
âShape the fuck up, soldier,â he says in parting, never looking away from you.
âY-Yes, sir.â
âLetâs go, Squeaks.â
You happily slip past him, nearly moaning when you feel his broad palm settle on the small of your back. Not pushing or demanding. Just there. He helps you into the booth and then crowds in next to you, arm draping along the back. The heat of him is intoxicating.
âFucking wanker,â he grumbles.
You bite back a grin, lean into his side. âThank you for coming to my rescue.â
He shakes his head but thereâs a smile quirking at the edges of his lips. âYou donât need rescuing, love.â
âI donât need it,â you agree, âbut I like it sometimes. When itâs you.â
He takes a sip of whiskey, swallows it with a sigh. âChrist, I want to take you back to base right fucking now.â
You can hear what he isnât saying. The filthy promises tucked in the cadence of words and spaces.
You suck in a breath, squeeze your thighs together. âWish you would.â
His eyes pin you, bright with desire. Reminds you of the hottest part of fire, beneath tongues of flame where it burns an eerie, steady blue. You see that same intensity in his gaze now, like you could burn yourself on his stare alone.
Then he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. âA little while longer,â he decides, looking across the bar. âThe boys missed you.â
You follow his gaze. Theyâre finishing up their pool game now, and youâre sure theyâll be piling in again soon, telling you all about who cheated and whoâs a sore loser. You missed them too, admittedly.
âJust the boys?â you tease.
Johnâs eyes flick back to yours for a heart-stopping second. Something predatory flickers through them, sends a delicious chill down your spine.
âIâll show you how much I missed you later.â
The ride back to base is pleasantly quiet after the noise in the bar. Everyone is drink-warm and in good spirits, the radio on a Top Twenty hits station at an unobtrusive volume. You spend the drive trying to sit still and not blush every time you make eye contact with John in the rearview. You donât succeed, but if anyone other than him notices, theyâre gracious enough not to mention.
Gaz and Soap invite you to a movie in the common room, but you politely decline with the excuse that you want more rest before getting back to routine tomorrow. You say your goodnights, then casually saunter out the door â but not before hearing John claim something about paperwork.
You donât get further than the next hallway before youâre grabbed around the waist and flattened against the wall. Your mouth falls open on a gasp, sparks shooting up your spine. John looms over you, his forearm braced above your head. The fingers of his other hand curl around the nape of your neck, his rough palm so broad that he can thumb your jaw, tilt your face up.
You start to speak â a reminder that youâre out in the open, where anyone could see you two fraternizing â but his mouth crashes into yours and steals the breath from your lungs. He still tastes like whiskey; you could definitely learn to love the flavor from his tongue. He curls into your mouth, a thorough and devastating exploration, coaxing you to follow his lead, to taste and indulge.
His fingers twitch like he wants to grip you harder, hold you closer. A noise gets trapped in his chest and pours into yours like warm honey, dripping languorous and decadent into the pit of your stomach. Pools there, aches between your thighs. You make a soft, wanting noise, fingers snagging in the front of his shirt.
âJohn,â you plead against his mouth.
âTell me,â he replies, voice broken to gravel. âFuck, love, please tell me this is still what you want.â
You can hear the question there. Flutter your eyes open and see the longing in his, the thread of hesitation because heâs a man who values open, clear communication.
âYes, John,â you whisper. âI want you. I want to be yours.â
He groans, presses his forehead against yours for a moment. Gathering himself, you realize. It never occurred to you that he could be just as desperate for you as you are for him. God, itâs heady, that thought. Dangerous.
âYouâre already mine.â The dark edge to his words makes you twitch.
âYeah?â you breathe. âShow me, then.â
And oh, you should know better than to challenge your captain like that.
He doesnât utter a word as he scoops you up by the thighs. Like you weigh nothing, muscles jumping deliciously beneath your curious palms, biceps stretching his sleeves. You lock your ankles at the small of his back, wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. Tease open-mouthed kisses along his cheek and jaw, just shy of his mouth, and grinning at his impatience as he storms down the hall.
He throws a door open, practically slams it after himself, the lock deafening. You know itâs his room just from the scent, but you surface when the light flicks on. Like his office, itâs neat but lived in, with the desk being the messiest spot in the room. Thereâs another door that you hope leads to an ensuite bathroom, but you donât get to ask before he kisses you again.
And you see, now, why he wouldnât give you this sooner. It would have kept you up all night and then destroyed your attention span all day â knowing what he tastes like, that he licks into your mouth like heâs kissing somewhere much lower. The way he just consumes every part of you; his undiluted attention becomes more necessary and precious than oxygen.
You donât even realize heâs moved again until his thighs are under you, supporting your ass. The shift presses your pelvis to his, your clit bumping and grinding against the bulge growing in the front of his jeans. The sudden, delicious friction makes you draw back a little, gasping and clutching at his strong shoulders.
âEasy now, love,â he murmurs, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. âIâve got you.â
You know he does, want to tell him that, but youâre beyond words at the moment. Breathless from the kisses, from that initial grind against your aching pussy, from the kisses heâs sucking into the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. You show him with your hands instead, featherlight touches along his spine that make thick arms tighten around your waist.
When you drag your nails along his shoulders he shivers, so you do it again, harder. He moans low and rough against your throat, teeth nipping. Another rush of liquid desire makes your pussy clench, empty and needy.
A sigh falls from your lips as one of his hands slides around the small of your back, callouses a sweet torture to the sensitive skin there. He grips your hip, just shy of too hard. You realize what he wants, move even before you feel a guiding tug. Rock down on his lap, providing you both the relief of a little friction. Just something to take the edge off, to buy you time to explore the gorgeous man beneath you.
One of your own hands glides into his hair, distracted by how soft and fine the strands are. Itâs a detail youâve never gotten to appreciate before, one that you imagine few others, if any, know. Your strong, brave, ridiculously competent captain, hiding a silky head of hair beneath that iconic hat or wool beanies. You bite your lip on a smitten smile.
Overcome by a wave of affection, you slide your other hand to his jaw, coaxing him away from your collarbone. His eyes are a storm when they meet yours, pupils blown wide and the blue ring around them swirling. This close, you can pick out the individual shades of gray that make them so intense.
His lips are swollen, glistening in the low light. Unable to resist, you lean in to kiss him, craving another hit. Get swept up in how he matches your passion and then leads you deeper, so gently but effortlessly dominating that you forget you initiated in the first place. Just press closer, closer. Hating the layers of fabric between your bodies but unwilling to allow any space or stop grinding against him.
That is, until he begins to ease away, soothing your protesting whines with lingering kisses and flicks of tongue. He doesnât go far, leaning his forehead against yours and breathing into the heated hair between you two.
âI want to feel you,â he rumbles. âWill you let me undress you?â
âYouâll get undressed too?â you pout, plucking at the front of his shirt.
His smile is absolute sin. âOf course, sweetheart.â
âOkay,â you huff. âOne more kiss?â
He huffs in amusement but indulges you. Takes the opportunity while youâre distracted and foggy to nudge you back on his lap a little. When you feel his fingertips skim bare flesh, you arch.
He doesnât shove your shirt up like you expect from the hunger in his expression. Itâs a slow glide, his hands mapping out the slope of your waist, the curve of your ribs, the dip of your spine. Everywhere he touches feels hot and tingly, sending fine tremors out to your limbs. You comply with pulling your arms from the sleeves, duck your chin to get it over your head.
Grin as your hair is ruffled up despite your best efforts, falling in disarray. He smiles back, takes a moment to smooth the strands down again, tucks a bit behind your ear. You tilt your head to kiss the thin skin of his wrist, just next to his watch. Youâre obsessed with the stupid thing, love the way it accentuates the corded muscles of his forearm, the veins and tendons in his hand.
His other hand slips up your back, finds the wide band of your bra, plucks the hooks free with a sniperâs skill. You make an appreciative noise, shrug the damn thing off and take a deep breath in relief. He kisses your chest at the swell of your breasts, beard contrasting the softness of parted lips. Then you feel his hands sliding up your stomach, stopping at the top of your ribcage. His thumbs rub along reddened skin where the elastic left imprints, careful and reverent.
You practically melt, swaying closer as his mouth descends. Your nipples are already perked when he swirls his tongue around one, just teasing enough to make you whimper. He draws the flat of his tongue over the bud of nerves, then takes it into his mouth, sucking. A low sound of satisfaction thunders in his chest, accompanies a flick of his tongue that makes you jerk. Wish you had something to grind against, but your hands are too busy gripping at him to dip down between your legs.
He occupies one hand with the other breast, thumbing at the nipple. Then pinching, plucking. Drawing out high, soft noises from your throat that prompt responding growls from him. The other hand takes a handful of your ass to keep you still against him, fingers digging in. You hope it leaves bruises.
When his mouth and hand switch breasts, you whine, caught between the pleasure and wanting more. His mouth is wicked, that perfect combination of rough and teasing that youâre sure has your panties absolutely soaked. You wouldnât be surprised if itâs visible through your pants by now.
âJohn,â you moan, patting his shoulder. He growls, sucks a little harder for a moment, prying a yelp from your lips, then draws away.
âSomething you wanted, gorgeous?â he asks.
âItâs⌠itâs your turn,â you breathe.
âMy turn?â
You huff, not sure if youâre frustrated or endeared by his eyebrow arched in curiosity. Hard to parse out anything from the lingering ache of pleasure. In answer, you hook your fingers beneath his shirt and lift. He realizes what you want, angles his arms to let you guide it up and then off.
You drop it on the bed, eyes drinking him in. Heâs built beautifully, powerful muscle beneath healthy layers of softer tissue. Carved for work, for war. His skin is a tapestry of his military career; scars and uneven tan lines map beneath course thatches of body hair. Your hand looks so small on his stomach, looks fragile when the muscles jump at the light touch.
Fixated, you flutter your hands all over him, tracking each faded wound, tracing every line of tensing muscle. Heâs burning beneath your hands, so hot you could think heâs running a fever. Touching isnât enough. You plant a hand on his chest, feel his heart pounding beneath your palm.
Meet his eyes as you give a measured push. Slowly, never breaking eye contact, he lowers his back to the mattress. You follow him down, wriggling up his body. Lick your lips when you settle right where you were before, where heâs hard and straining in his jeans.
Where you belong.
Your mouth follows the paths your hands made. You kiss scars, nip at the ones you recognize as yours. His hand settles on the back of your neck, not gripping with any force or trying to guide you anywhere. Just holding, grounding â though youâre not sure if thatâs for you or himself.
When your lips brush down the fuzz of his happy trail, he twitches and chokes on a noise. You love it. Want to hear more. He doesnât stop your eager fingers from undoing his belt. Your mouth waters at the sound of the buckle clinking. Itâs nothing, then, to get his button open, zipper down.
You tug impatiently at the waistband, which finally earns his interference.
âAlright, love, easy.â Heâs still lifting his hips â so easily, even with your added weight, holy hell â to let you get it past his hips. âThereâs no rush.â
âJohn, I want you. You made me wait all day.â
âPoor dear,â he coos mockingly, eyes lidded. âA whole day, you say?â
In retaliation, you nip sharply at the cut of his hip. He huffs, tugs on a lock of your hair.
âBrat,â he mutters, fond.
You flash an absent smile, already preoccupied with the tantalizing shape hidden beneath black cotton. Christ, and they say black is slimming? You canât imagine it looking any bigger than it already does. But youâve always enjoyed it when reality exceeds imagination.
Youâre not disappointed. The head is flushed pink, flared, the barest hint of precome glistening at the slit. What catches your attention is how wide he is. Above average length, yes, but fucking thick too. Easily three of your fingers across, maybe slightly more. Your wet hole twitches around nothing, hungry to try to fit him inside.
Thatâll have to wait a little longer.
With the two of you already at the edge of the bed, youâre able to get to the floor with relative grace, kicking your shoes off for comfort. Knees tucked under yourself, thighs pressed and rubbing together, you wrap your hand around the base. Your thumb and middle finger only just touch, and heâs thickest towards the middle.
His soft inhale barely registers as you ease your loose hand up to the head, trace around the ridge of the glans, then circle around to smear the beading precome. You slide your hand down, squeeze and stroke up again, coaxing out more. Itâs too much to resist. The tip of your tongue laps at the shining slit, humming as the flavor bursts across your tastebuds.
You swirl your tongue, tracing the inverted heart shape in pantomime of what he did earlier to your nipples. As much as you want him in your mouth, you trace a thick stripe down his shaft, kissing open-mouthed at the base. He smells like masculine body soap and detergent, clean sweat. You sigh happily, licking back to the head and sucking it between soft lips.
Itâs only then that you tune in to the noises heâs making above you, the low grunts and choked off curses. You didnât think he could sound better than when heâs purring over comms, but you were wrong. Desperate to hear more, you swallow him down further, jaw already twinging at the stretch. Itâs perfect.
His hand is in your hair again, still not pushing or pulling, just there. Just holding. You wouldnât mind him holding a little tighter, but youâre not willing to pull off his cock to tell him that. No, youâd rather see if you can tease him into doing it by instinct.
You dive down until the head rubs the back of your throat. As much as youâd like to take him all the way, youâre out of practice and know youâll choke too much to make it truly pleasant for him. Heâs so thick itâll take a few sessions to manage. Thatâs alright though, you know how to make it good without deepthroating.
Your hand wraps around what canât fit in your mouth, tongue flicking at the vein on the underside. Then you loosen your jaw and move. Slow at first, testing how far you can go before your airway is cut off and your gag reflex protests. Then a little faster, applying suction towards the head, thumb rubbing tight circles right under where your bottom lip stops. You increase the pace untilâ
âFuck,â John snarls.
You settle on that rhythm, mind emptying of anything and everything but this. Him.
When his hips start to rock along with you, a thrill goes down your spine. A noise vibrates from your throat, down his cock. He hisses a breath between his teeth, fingers flexing where theyâre tangled in your hair. You could purr it feels so good, those little shocks where the strands pull too tight.
âFucking incredible,â he pants. âYouâre so â Christ, love.â
You give him a pleased hum, smiling a little at how his hips jerk.
âAlright,â he groans, the hand in your hair becoming insistent, urging you back. âAlright, thatâs enough, gorgeous.â
You whine in protest, pull off gradual and decadent, reluctant to stop. A string of saliva connects your bottom lip to the head of his cock. You swipe your tongue over it one last time to snap it, eyes flicking up to his.
âYou know,â he breathes, chest heaving, âI thought about this, at the training grounds.â
You blink, surprised.
âYour tongue was blue, Gazâs fucking candies,â he continues. His hand slides from your hair to your face, wiping the spit that drips from the corners of your mouth. âThought of you licking my cock like that. Wondered what youâd taste like if I kissed you after.â
You press your lips together, biting back a moan at the thought. If he had put you on your knees like that, you would have gladly exposed your back to Ghostâs gun just to get a taste of your captainâs cock.
âI was so wetâŚâ you murmur, blushing despite yourself and what you just did. Your voice sounds husky and used, his jaw twitches at the sound. âI was afraid thereâd be a spot on your pants. Almost wanted to get off in the bathroom while you finished the match.â
A confession for a confession. Kneeling before him like this, his hand on your face, it feels almost like absolving yourself of sin. Or at least, this is what you imagine it would be like; youâve never been to a confessional. Youâre also pretty sure that youâre about to be anything but cleansed.
âYeah?â John purrs. âWhy didnât you?â
âI wouldnât have been able to look anyone in the eye,â you admit. Then add, embarrassed, âAnd I knew I wouldnât be able to get a good angle.â
He chuckles, low and dark. His grin curls more wicked when you canât suppress a shiver.
âThat so, love?â His tone twists into the gently condescending tone that youâre becoming obsessed with. âLike it deep, is that it? Canât manage it with those pretty little fingers.â
You pinch your bottom lip between your teeth and have to squeeze your eyes shut while you nod. Itâs embarrassingly true. Even when you can get that perfect spot, your hand tends to cramp by the time you get a good rhythm. Toys help, sometimes, but you miss the warmth of a living person â and half the time youâre too tired to thrust consistently at the speed you need.
All in all masturbation tends to be a frustrating process at this point. And now you just know heâs going to ruin it for you entirely.
âDonât worry, love, Iâll take care of you,â he soothes. âCome up here.â
He helps you climb back into his lap, hands disconcertingly steady. You lean into his chest, mouthing at his jaw and scraping your teeth just to hear him rumble in your ear. One of your hands reaches for his cock, the head of it rubbing against your bare stomach, wet with saliva and precome.
âNow, now,â he chides. âItâs my turn. Be good for me.â
You moan softly. âBut I want you.â The whine in your voice surprises you, sets your face on fire. You hide against his neck.
âI know, sweetheart,â he hums, âand youâve been so patient. I promise I wonât make you wait long.â
His palm glides up your back, flat and warm. Youâre being gentled, you realize. And itâs fucking working. Itâs just like the training exercises, so easy to follow his instructions and knowing itâll be well worth your while. In fact, you donât even think of resisting as you sigh, pliant and cooperative while he rearranges you.
âJust have to make sure youâre ready for me,â he continues. âYouâre in for a long night and I donât want you too sore tomorrow, yeah?â
Thereâs a pillow under your hips as youâre settled on your back, blinking at him in a haze. He hums appreciatively, a roughly whispered âgood girlâ making your eyelids flutter. You drift your fingertips over his chest, down his arms, a little spacy but mostly just admiring. When he sits back on his heels, you let them settle next to your head. Open, offering.
He grazes his hands down your naked torso, lingering over the marks heâs already left, until he reaches your waistband. You lift your hips to give him room to slide them off. He drops kisses along your thighs while he does, open-mouthed. He takes your panties with him as he goes, apparently not patient enough to tease you any further. Not that youâre complaining.
Your calves brush his wide shoulders as he leans back. His jeans are still resting low on his hips, making room for his cock to sway over the bunched waistband of his underwear, still rock hard and flushed a tempting pink. You draw your legs back a little, knees pressed together. Enthralled by being completely naked, vulnerable, while he remains partially clothed.
âShy now, darling?â he chuckles. âCome on, let me see you.â
You make a high, embarrassed noise⌠but still inch your legs apart, shaking when he palms your sensitive thighs. He exhales hard when youâre fully exposed, the gush of air caressing flesh.
âBloody gorgeous,â he whispers, more to himself than you. âSo fucking wet for me.â
Your fingers twitch. The urge to cover your face almost overcomes the desire to remain obediently compliant.
âJohn,â you call, quiet and beckoning. âYou promised.â
It takes a second for him to realize what you mean, but then he huffs in amusement. Gives you a reassuring squeeze.
âYouâre right, love, I did.â
He moves as if to touch you, but you press your foot to his thigh, urging him back a little.
âYou too,â you murmur, âpants off.â
âAlright,â he says, clearly humoring you.
You bite your lip as he steps off the bed, gaze locked as he kicks off his boots and removes the last of his clothes. He arches his eyebrows when he catches you staring, even put his arms up a little, palms open by his hips as if to say âwell?â.
âYouâre so handsome,â you breathe, âI canât stand it.â
âGood thing youâre lying down then, eh?â
You snort, shaking your head despite the smile tugging at your lips, and reach for him. He sets a knee on the bed and the lamplight encapsulates him in perfect, beautiful glow. Every inch that youâve been worshiping, every detail youâve sworn to memorize. Youâve had your hands on him, your mouth.
This man you love and respect, the embodiment of duty and honor, and you belong to him.
âOh, love,â he rasps, âyou canât look at me like that.â
You blink. Donât even know what face youâre making. âWhy not?â
âBecause Iâll never let you go again.â
You donât want him to let you go.
And he must read that in your expression because he groans, crawls up the bed to your reaching hands. You love watching the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunch and jump as he settles between your legs. The hard length of him is searing against the bend of your hip. Seeing it next to your abdomen like this, youâre struck by just how deep heâs going to be. Fuck.
You curl a leg over his hip and gently tug, urging him to close that last little gap between you two. He acquiesces, propping himself up on an elbow by your head, caging you in, making you feel small beneath his bulk. You tilt your head for a kiss as his other hand skims up your thigh and teases at your wet slit.
âYou really are sopping,â he breathes against your mouth.
Your hips twitch, wanting more, wanting him to touch. His finger draws a featherlight circle around your throbbing clit. Itâs not nearly enough contact or pressure, but it still sends you moaning into his mouth. Slowly, maddeningly, he keeps drawing those delicate circles, occasionally dipping into the slick dripping from your hole. His touch becomes firmer after a few passes, enough that you think eventually youâd spiral into the most mind-numbing and aching orgasm youâve ever had, but youâre not that patient. Not before, and certainly not now.
âJohn,â you gasp finally, trembling. âPlease, more.â
He doesnât say a word, just hums and dips his fingertip into your entrance, thrusting in tiny increments until his finger is sinking into you all at once. You whine, head tossed back against the pillow. Itâs not a stretch, but it feels divine after being empty for so long.
âBreathe, love,â he murmurs in your ear.
You suck in a breath, blinking away the fuzziness at the edges of your vision. Leave it to John to make you pass out (or nearly, anyway) without ever laying a hand on your throat. When you have enough air, you keen desperately, feeling him stroking your walls.
âReady for another?â he asks.
You nod, nipping at his chest. A second finger eases you open, curling until you yelp.
âThere it is,â he chuckles.
If your eyes werenât in the back of your head right now, youâd glare. As it is, itâs all you can do not to dissolve as he angles to rub the heel of his palm against your clit. Thereâs a slight stretch now, his fingers thicker than yours made more obvious as he scissors you open, preparing you.
You feel useless laying beneath him while he does the work, except when you reach down, he rips his hand away to pin yours. You gasp, protest on the tip of your tongue, but he kisses you quiet until the fight leaves and your noises turn needy again.
âI told you Iâd take care of you,â he rumbles. âJust be a good girl for me and take it.â
And well, itâs hard to muster any complaints when he plunges his fingers into you again, a third wedging alongside the first two. Youâre definitely feeling it now, just the right kind of stretch. Itâs a challenging pressure but not painful, and youâre soon rocking down on his hand.
His mouth descends on your chest again, toying with your nipples, getting you to twitch every time he sucks. He finds that perfect spot inside you with unerring accuracy, petting it with hard, steady strokes of his fingers. Youâre gushing over his palm, down his wrist, pooling beneath your ass. Itâs all starting to coalesce, burning through your veins, the stimulation luring you higher and higher.
âI-Iâm gonnaâŚâ you moan, hissing air between your teeth. Try and mostly fail to still your hips. âJohn, wait, Iâm gonna cum.â
âWhatâs wrong with that?â
âWanna â wanna⌠on your cock,â you babble, barely coherent.
He chuckles. âIâll let you cum more than once, sweet girl.â
(Let you. Good fucking lord.)
âNo, no,â you whine. You clutch at his shoulder, clawing him harder than you mean to. âWant the first time to-to be⌠John, please.â
He hums in understanding and slows but doesnât stop. You swallow back a sob, reminding yourself that this is what you wanted.
âTell me properly,â he says, a hint of that authoritative tone creeping into his voice.
âPlease,â you whimper, âl-let me cum on-on your cock.â
He groans deep in his chest, rattling what few brain cells youâve still got in your empty little head.
When he pulls his hand away, his entire palm is shiny with your slick, strings of it stretching between his spread fingers. His scarred knuckles are dripping with you as well, obscene with the light hitting them. He considers his soaked hand for a moment, then makes eye contact with you and drags the flat of his tongue across his palm. Your mouth drops open, but no sound comes out, head spinning and staticky as he swallows.
âOne of these days,â he growls, bass deep, âIâm going to sit you on my desk and eat you out until youâre begging for mercy.â
You shudder, breath hitching while you try to string together syllables.
âI-isnât this desk a little small?â you ask.
His eyes are the darkest youâve ever seen them. His hand drops to his cock and strokes, spreading your slick all over himself.
âI wasnât talking about this desk.â
Oh, fuck. Youâll never be able to sit in his office again. At least not without getting wet enough to save a dying man in the desert.
Youâre so thoroughly distracted by that thought â that promise â that it almost surprises you when his cock glides along your pussy. He balances on his knees to watch himself notch the fat head at your entrance. It already feels like a lot and heâs not even pushing in yet.
You scramble for something to hold onto, find his hand and lace your fingers together, squeezing tight.
âReady, love?â he asks.
âYes,â you breathe. Then, âplease.â
He enters you in one long, slow thrust. An inexorable and unrelenting push, bullying your walls aside, creating space for himself inside you. You feel full by the time heâs halfway in, tender where youâre split open around the thickness of him. The thumb of his free hand rubs gently at your throbbing clit, little strokes that ease the ache but also make you twitch tighter around him.
Three quarters of the way, youâre making high-pitched noises in the back of your throat, sounding tortured. But he doesnât stop, the squeezing of your thighs around his hips urging him deeper. If heâs speaking, you canât hear it over your own heartbeat. Just arch your back, inviting him to ruin you.
When heâs finally seated inside you, heavy balls flush with your ass, you think youâre going insane. It feels like heâs in your guts, like his cockhead is kissing your esophagus. Logically, you know that your body is built to accommodate this â him â but it feels like heâs reshaping you just for his cock. Youâd never be satisfied with anyone else; not that you think youâll ever want anyone else. Not since you met John, and definitely not now that you have him.
âAlright?â he asks.
Your tongue feels clumsy in your salivating mouth, so you nod and squeeze his hand in reassurance. He rocks, grinding himself impossibly deeper and you cry out, thighs trying to clamp shut from the too much too good of it. He settles snug against you like that, presumably for you to adjust.
Except his thumb hasnât stopped playing with your clit. You canât relax, canât think, canât breathe under that unfaltering rhythm, that perfect pressure. He started you towards an orgasm doing that before and it seems he memorized it just to do so again. Heâs not even moving, but he doesnât have to, your walls are fluttering and twitching around him.
âFuck,â you whine, âfuck, J-John. If you keep⌠Iâm gonnaâŚâ
âYeah?â he asks, and oh god, itâs that tone again. âYou can cum just from having me inside you?â
You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, trying to stave it off, but the lack of sight only makes it worse.
âShow me,â he growls.
His pace doesnât change in the slightest, winding you up and up and upâŚ
âLook at me.â
Your eyes snap open, helpless against his commands, and lock gazes with him.
âCum for me, beautiful.â
And you fucking do, back bowing to an almost painful angle, thrashing and crying out, eyes rolling into the back of your head. He doesnât move a fucking centimeter, his cock pressing ruthlessly against all those white-hot points of pleasure, drawing it out. Even when he jostles inside you, it just sends another wave of ecstasy crashing over you, your pussy both under-stimulated and over-stimulated.
âThereâs my good girl,â John purrs above you. âRide it out, love. Fuck, you feel so good squeezing around me.â
You keen, push at his hand on your clit. Mercifully, he eases off, settles his palm flat on your thigh, giving you another point of stability. You pant as you come down, heart thundering and sweating.
âOh my god, John,â you gasp.
âYou did so well, sweetheart,â he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. âCame so beautifully.â
You moan, rolling your head back against the pillow. Blink at the ceiling for a moment and try to remember how to breathe. Difficult when heâs still inside you, still hard. You twitch at the thought of more. John makes a punched-out noise, the hand still in yours squeezing.
âDo you need another moment, or can I move?â he asks, perfectly patient.
You clear your throat, shift a little, gauging. Youâre still sensitive, but not overly so. More importantly, you desperately want to feel him moving inside you.
âFuck me,â you whisper.
He groans, but thereâs endearing relief in his expression.
Youâre not willing to let go of his hand at first, until he brings it to his mouth and kisses your knuckles, your wrist, your palm, and rests it on his bicep instead. Both hands free now, he adjusts your hips on the pillow, angling them up. Then he curls his fingers around your calf and hooks your knee over his shoulder. You squeal at the shift, clench down on him hard.
âHoly fuck how are you deeper?â you moan.
He rocks his hips, not hard or deep, but even that is enough to make you squirm and quake.
âFuck thatâs a good angle,â he growls and doesnât waste another second.
The pace isnât fast, but itâs deep and rough. A measured rhythm thatâs already driving you crazy. The head of his cock drags deliciously against your sucking walls when he pulls back, then scrapes your g-spot when he plunges in. Over and over and over. He doesnât speed up at all and yet they start to bleed together, the pleasure of one thrust rippling into the next.
It's hypnotic, itâs maddening. Itâs exactly what you need after cumming just from feeling him inside you. Your second orgasm almost always takes longer than the first, but John takes you apart methodically. Even when you start to whine and whimper again, keening half-words and flexing as if to make him go faster. Heâs implacable.
Watching makes it worse. The tight flex of muscles, the way he grunts every time he buries himself to the hilt. He tilts his head back, a single pearl of sweat skating down the stark tendon of his neck, pooling in the hollow of his throat. A groan rumbles from his chest when you scratch your nails down his arms.
Heâs beautiful and he fucks like a god and all you want is to stay here on his cock for the rest of your life.
âPlease,â you wail, âI wanna...â
His eyes flutter open, still sharp even through the pleasure scorching his system.
âGo ahead, angel,â he growls. âPlay with your clit, make yourself cum again.â
Fuck, it didnât even occur to you that you have both hands free, but now with explicit permission, your hand darts down to swollen flesh. You hold onto his forearm whereâs braced beside your head, an anchor while you rub your clit. Itâs almost too much at first, even when youâre in control of the speed and pressure. But soon that almost-pain melts into pure pleasure and you synch your strokes with Johnâs.
The second orgasm is a slow build, a rising tide of blistering heat and pulses of ecstasy, a gentle violence that ravages your body. Itâs wave after wave, each more intense than the last, leaving you a writhing puddle as John fucks you through it. Every crest has you crying out ragged and slack jawed. As youâre shaking through the last of it, John dips down to kiss you, filthy and uncoordinated, grinding deep one more time.
You lay boneless beneath him, limbs tingling.
John dots your face and jaw with kisses as you recover, only half inside you. The hand that heâs been bracing on is tangled in your hair, scratching blunt nails over your scalp. He murmurs in your ear and your brain is too scrambled to figure out what, but his tone is sweet and soothing.
You take one last deep, settling breath in⌠and realize heâs still hard. Good fucking god, he hasnât cum.
Gaz made a joke at Johnâs expense once; about how older men can only go once but they can go for a while. You should have taken that as a warning.
âDo you want to be done?â John asks gently.
You blink, refocus your eyes on him. His expression is open, concerned. If you told him that you couldnât do any more, you know he would understand. Would let you finish him with your mouth, or even jerk himself off if you really tapped. There would be no repercussions, hard feelings, or complaints.
But even still shivering from your last orgasm, you want this man to paint your insides.
âFuck no,â you reply, reaching for him, âI just needed to catch my breath.â
He grins and leans down to kiss you, a messy tangle of lips and tongues. Then he pulls out of you. A frankly obscene amount of slick floods from your abused hole, almost unnaturally hot where it slips down your ass. He smirks at the sight, but before you can grumble about it, he circles an arm around your waist and flips you. You land on your stomach with an oof muffled into the blanket.
âThat was just â waah!â
Youâre forced to brace on wobbly arms as he hikes your hips up and stacks both pillows beneath, then settles you down again. Itâs stupidly hot how easily he manhandles you â and all in the spirit of making you comfortable to continue fucking your brains out. Christ, he couldnât be better if you made him in a factory.
His palm settles low on your back, presses gently. âShow me whatâs mine, pretty girl.â
You arch with a soft moan, canting your hips to display your swollen, dripping pussy. He makes an appreciative noise, draws a curious finger from clit to hole. Sparks of oversensitivity burn through your veins, but his grip keeps you from twitching away.
âIâll have you in pieces by the end of this,â he breathes.
Heâs right; it wonât even take much at this point. You double down on that thought when you feel his cock at your entrance again, still thoroughly coated in your slick. No, youâll be disassembled before heâs finished, and you wonât even care if he puts you back together again.
(But he will, of course he will. Itâs John.)
At this angle, he feels even bigger than before, nearly at your bodyâs limit. That doesnât stop you from leaning into it, pushing your hips back to get him seated up against your cervix again. He makes you stop like that, bending down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades.
âGood?â he asks.
âIâm good,â you reply, swiveling your hips in a tight circle. âCâmon, fuck me, fill me up. Show me what it means to be yours.â
He growls, draws his hips back, and slams home, forcing a cry from your used throat. Itâs none of the steady, measured pace of before. This is rough and fast, almost brutal. He fucks like he fights, all deadly precision and focused strength. His bruising hands jerk you back to meet each thrust, treating you like a toy for his own pleasure.
Itâs far too much after two orgasms. Your pussy spasms like youâre not sure if you want to keep him in or force him out. It doesnât matter what you want, though, heâs fucking taking what he needs from your willing body. And you can do nothing more than wail, whiny little âah, ahâ noises ripped from your drooling mouth.
âThatâs it, love, fuck,â John snarls.
The bed starts to bang against the wall, loud enough to be heard in the hallway. It drops your shaky arms out from under you, making the angle that much steeper, that much better. Your wet cheek presses into the mattress, fingers clawing into the sheets beside it.
âYou take me so well, just like I knew you would,â he rumbles above you. âMy sweet girl, always so eager to please me.â
You donât answer, but the way you clench around him is all the confirmation he needs. Heâs not even wrong; you love making him proud, earning his praise, being good for him. This is no exception, letting him demolish your pussy with every inch of his thick cock.
âYou want me to fill this greedy cunt, is that it?â he grunts. âHave you drip with me at breakfast tomorrow?â
You shout a squeaky âyes,â feeling like you could cum again just from the thought alone.
âThen touch yourself for me, pretty thing. I want to feel you.â
You whimper, dismayed. âB-butââ
He slows just enough to lean down, nearly flattening you against the bed. He doesnât stop entirely, thrusting into you in sharp, hard jerks that make your lungs hitch. His breath is against your ear, hot as steam.
âThat wasnât a fucking suggestion,â he purrs, low and mean, âand if you donât follow orders, Iâll do it myself.â
One of his hands unlocks from your waist, fingers skirting dangerously close (and not gently) towards your aching clit. You squeal, try to writhe away but only succeed in grinding his cock against your walls.
âY-yes, sir.â Itâs out of your mouth without a single thought but you can feel him throb.
âGood girl,â he groans, pushing himself up again.
He nudges your knees wider apart, leaving you spread for him to hammer right back into you. You detach a hand from the sheets and sink shaking fingers down to your pulsing clit. The force of Johnâs thrusts makes it impossible to be gentle or careful, and you sob through the overstimulation as you rub two fingers through your puffy folds.
âThatâs right, love, just like that,â he praises.
You thrash beneath the onslaught, voice out of control, only held up by Johnâs grip. His rhythm starts to falter, words becoming sparse as he chases his orgasm. Somehow he gets rougher, fucks harder, as he nears his end. Tilts his hips at just the right angle to abuse your g-spot again. You scream and then sob, babbling out pleas for him to cum in you, fill you up, make it drip down your thighsâŚ
A burst of heat accompanies your name in his hoarse, fucked-out voice. The feeling of it, spurts of white-hot cum painting your oversensitive walls, sends you crashing through another pit of ecstasy. John slows but doesnât stop, easing you both through the last incandescent dregs of orgasm.
You feel him shift above you, his shadow blotting out the minimal light. He whispers something under his breath, something complimentary, you gather. Youâre too busy trying to remember who and where you are.
âAlright, love?â he asks, sounding just as wrecked as you feel.
âMhmm,â you manage past scratchy vocal cords.
âCan I pull out, get us some water? Or do you need another moment?â
You shake your head, reach blindly for his hip to keep him close.
âUnderstood,â he chuckles, petting your flank. âLet me know when youâre ready.â
You lay there until your heartbeat steadies and breathing isnât a manual process. When you tap his thigh, he tries to be gentle, he really does. But even soft now, he feels huge, and you make pathetic noises as he pulls out. He shushes you, dropping kisses on your spine as he helps you down onto your stomach, your hips sore.
âThere you are sweetheart,â he murmurs. âIâll be right back.â
The bed bounces a little as he gets up. Thereâs a moment of silence that you suspect is him admiring his work, then the sound of a door, running water. Seems like he does have an ensuite after all. Thank god.
The mattress dips as he settles on the edge, your hip pressed to his.
âNeed help sitting up?â he asks.
âI got it,â you reply.
It takes you another second to gather the will and strength, but you eventually manage. You curl against his back as he offers you a full glass, need both hands to keep it steady while you sip. His hand settles on your knee, thumb caressing soft circles into the skin.
âSore?â he asks.
âA little,â you admit. âItâs good.â
âWill it stay good, or should we get paracetamol onboard now?â
How is he so fucking wonderful?
You hold the drink away to lean into him, nuzzling up against his jaw. âIâm alright, love. You didnât hurt me.â
He huffs, eyes impossibly soft when you pull back enough to meet them with your own. âIt wasnât too much?â
You smile, touched and utterly smitten. âIt was perfect. You were perfect. Thank you.â
âFor that?â
âFor everything.â
You wake the next morning to John in your arms. His face is tucked into the hollow of your throat, quietly snoring. One of your legs is curled around his hip, the other sandwiched between both of his. Heâs hugging onto you like a teddy bear, one of his hands spanning across your bare ribs, the shirt youâd stolen rucked up around his wrist.
Youâre not sure where his other arm is â beneath the pillow under you maybe. One of yours is around his shoulders, keeping him tucked close. You card the fingers of your free hand through the downy hair at the base of his skull and bask in the pre-dawn light. John Price, your captain, is snuggled up to you in his own bed after rearranging your intestines the night previous. Itâs more than you ever could have dreamed of. Itâs perfect.
You doze for a while, soaking in the warmth of his bare chest, the sounds of him finally resting for once. Feel like you could stay here forever, loose-limbed and content in the watery hours before responsibility comes barging in.
The change in his breathing rouses you again, his snores tapering off. He presses a drowsy kiss to your neck. You hum a wordless good morning, smoothing your palm down his arm to hold his hand. The two of you lay like that for a few moments, waking up and fondly recalling the night before.
âHow much do you think Soap and Gaz have on this?â he wonders eventually.
You adore his sleep-rough voice.
âAt least 20 quid,â you muse.
He grunts. âFucking children.â
You giggle, drawing your nails lightly over his shoulders. âIn their defense, we took forever to sort ourselves out.â
He hums, agreeing but not willing to admit it. You see laps in your fellow sergeantsâ futures.
âWe took exactly as much time as we needed,â he replies.
You hold him a little closer as your heart skips a beat. âI love you, John.â
He lets out a breath and pushes himself up to look you in the eyes. âI love you.â
At breakfast that morning, you make eye contact with Ghost across the table. Even with the mask, you can tell heâs smirking when he flashes the 50 quid he just won off Gaz and Soap â much to Johnâs dismay.
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#sergeant squeaks#captain john price#john price x reader#cross posted on ao3#old fic
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ââ đđŽđđđĽđ˘đ§đ đ°đ˘đđĄ đđĄđ đđđ đđđ§đ *ŕłŕź
: ĚĚâBack to Source
THESE CAN BE READ AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTICALLY!!
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She can handle being all cuddly to a certain extent, before she rolls away to have her own space. Though, sheâll always have some sort of touch with you. That being a hand on your waist or thigh, or even her foot touching yours. (Red confirmed Ashlyn to have autism)
You better hope she doesnât have any nightmares in her sleep time before transporting to the Phantom world, because if she does she jolts so fast her hair is gonna literally whip you.
This girl is skin and bones, so sheâs probably not the warmest to snuggle up to. But she makes that up with wearing nice and soft things, like hoodies, PJ bottoms, and fuzzy socks.
When sheâs in a comfortable position with you, she probs drools.
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Sleeping/cuddling with Aiden is a very humbling experience.
He watches tiktoks with you because he thinks itâs a bonding experience while you guys snuggle. (just ignore his fyp itâs cursedâŚ)
Before you guys cuddle, you have to force him to take his contacts out because every cuddle sesh ends up with the two of you falling asleep.
But when he sleeps with them in his eyes become all dried when he wakes up.
(Red also confirmed Aiden to have contacts, because heâs blinder than a bat, and itâs also why his eyes are red because his contacts are coloured.)
Like Ashlyn, he drools⌠but not just a small bit like the ginger. Heâs drooling fucking RIVERS.
He moves about in his sleep, like a lot. And when he settles, itâs only for like a maximum of 4 mins before heâs squirming around like a worm again.
BLANKET HOG ALERT!! WEE WOO WEE WOO. If you ever wake up cold, youâre gonna turn to see Aiden with YOUR OWN blanket cuddling up with the whole damn blanket cuz he srsly subconsciously wrapped himself a cocoon.
When you guys are cozying up together, heâs literally in top of you like the human version of a weighted comforter.
And if you feel suffocated with him on top of you, heâs pressed up to your like a leech looking for affection. Iâm talking limbs tangled together and every thing.
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Heâs such a teddy bear!! ^_^
AND HEâS SO WARM OMFG, ITS CRIMINALLY INSANE HOW COZY THIS GUY IS. A literal damn furnace.
For being such a big guy, youâd automatically think he liked being big spoon. BUT THAT IS FALSE INFORMATION HE LIKES BEING LITTLE SPOON!!
If you knew him before the accident, he used to hum you to sleep as you guys snuggled!!
And when he eventually does fall asleep while cuddling he goes so still like he turned into a rock.
It feels like sleeping next to a dead bodyâŚ
Except the dead body is incredibly warm instead of being all cold. And if the deceased body had a vice grip on you like Iâd be let go youâd disappear.
â°â⤠đđđ˛đĽđ¨đŤ
THIS CUTIE IS SUCH A SNUGGLE BUG!!
This girl is full of sm love and affection, she loves to show her appreciation for someone through physical touch!
She makes sure that not only sheâs comfy, but you are too! Like you guys could be snuggling on a Rocky Mountain and sheâd still make it comfortable.
Like Ashlyn sheâll always make sure to have a hand on you, even if you guys are firmly pressed aging eachother like sardines in a can.
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Whines that he hates cuddling, saying itâs sappy and cringy⌠But then whines again when you arenât cuddling upâŚ
He likes to keep his âIâm a tough guyâ act on, so heâll not initiate a cuddle sesh. Itâs either gonna have to be you start it, or heâs sick and doesnât give af.
Unlike Ben, he prefers being big spoon, since he just likes holding you closely to his chest while you guys spoon. Thinks itâs very intimate.
If you tease him about how he comes like putty when you guys cuddle, heâll get all pouty and push you away. (Only to be back in your arms in 3 minutes timeâŚ)
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ANOTHER ONE WHOS A TOTAL CUTIE PATOOTIE âBOUT IT!!
But so, so, so painfully awkwardâŚ
BUT!! Heâs cozy, and has the COMFIEST pillows and blankets lying around itâs insane.
He deffo had one of them cool star projectors that make the room look like space. Itâs the coolest.
When you guys start cuddling his glasses stay on, but if it turns into a small snooze they get lost and you guys have to dig through the blankets to find them to he can see, cause without them this bitch turns into Velma from Scooby Doo.
#school bus graveyard#school bus graveyard x reader#sbg x reader#ashlyn banner x reader#aiden clark x reader#ben clark x reader#taylor hernandez x reader#tyler hernandez x reader#logan fields x reader
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Cinderella
Pairing: club owner!Min Yoongi x f!reader x right-hand man!Jung Hoseok
Genre: non-idol au, pure fucking smut i'm not even playing, a hint at s2l??
Summary: Question - what is something that might help a shameless brat trapped in a body of a shy girl come out of her shell? Answer - two hot owners of a local club more than happy to whip her into shape.
Word count: 19.7k (i'm sorry lol)
Warnings: ginger Yoongi and that mama 2022 red carpet Hoseok (*in Britney Spears voice* a guy like you should wear a warning~), intoxication, min yoongi hands, they're softer doms, threesome, oral (f rec.), breath play and slight choking (i'm so predictable), light bdsm themes, spanking, bondage, light use of a whip, humiliation and degradation, reader is a right brat, multiple orgasms, overstim, clit slapping
A/N: indulge in this sope brainrot :). when i tell you this scenario changed my life i'm being only a little dramatic, long live our dom kings and i will die on this hill
âCome on Y/N, you should totally give it a try!â one of my friends exclaimed, drunkenly leaning on another one of our gals to her right, âYou never know! And you should be more confident!â Other girls sitting around the dingy sticky table in the club we were currently in all enthusiastically nodded and grumbled their own supportive comments.
I looked over them, still unsure, and then back to the ginger man sitting on the bar, relaxedly swirling a glass of an amber gold liquid and occasionally taking a sip. He wasnât really talking to anyone, just sat there and watched the two guys manning the bar wordlessly, which in my friendsâ opinion made him an âeasier targetâ.
Target of the stupidest game our drunken brains could have come up with â whoever manages to seduce a guy the quickest drinks for free for the rest of the night. The second that suggestion hit the table, I loudly opposed it, for two reasons.
First, it seemed kinda mean. And secondly, and most importantly, I was terrified of coming up to someone and just flirting. Thatâs not something I did, not that I was against it or for the lack of trying, and occasionally I entertained when someone came up to me and flirted, sometimes even going home with them. But I was shy, and when I got shy I got painfully awkward, so Iâd rather save myself from that embarrassment.
âYeah, it would do you some good,â my best friend Yeri, a tall thin pretty girl with her hair dyed cupid pink, suddenly turned to me and joined into the fray, âYou donât give yourself enough credit. Youâre super hot and somehow you donât realise it at all.â She was already a little tipsy as well, her posture more relaxed than usual as she giggled along every other word. Thereâs no love like drunk girl talking to her friends.
âThatâs easy for you to say, you already finished your mission!â I whined back to her, the whole tableâs undivided attention on me. To keep the stakes high and the game fair, we collectively selected a few guys and randomly divided them between us â each of us went to a specific man that was chosen by us and given to each girl.
But mine was out of this world, like unfairly so out of my league it would be embarrassing to even try. The moment I lost the game of rock paper scissors, I tried to bargain my way out of it â there was no way I could bag a guy like that in under a minute! That was insanity! But the girls wouldnât budge, telling me to challenge myself and have faith in myself. That was easy of them to say when they didnât have to walk up to a god amongst men and try to awkwardly flirt with him.
âLook at that guy, if I tried to talk to him heâd probably think Iâm the valet or something,â I continued to grumble, as the constant stream of complaints didnât stop since I lost the game.
Our attention collectively jumped back to him as he sat there. He had the kind of smirk on his face that was annoyingly effortlessly hot, giving him the aura of someone who was very well aware of his otherworldly qualities. The black tee with some kind of white print was oversized just right to be fashionable and hung off of his frame in a way that enhanced his physique in the best way. Black cargo pants and black boots gave him a punk vibe, and the whole look was finished with some chunky steel rings and necklaces that somehow managed to be even more hot and not look gaudy at all. My eyes trailed down to the rings, which were comfortably sat on one of the best hands Iâve ever seen, and I had to physically stop myself from drooling.
Yeah, thereâs no way in hell I could just hit on that.
âWhatâs the worst that could happen? He says no. Itâs worth a try,â Hana, another part of the friend group tried to wheedle me into going one more time. They all probably sensed I was about to give them another rebuttal, and an understanding passed through all of them.
Suddenly several pairs of hands were manhandling me, pulling me onto my legs and out of from the booth with the table we were sitting at. I let myself be pushed to the edge of the seat, too confused about whatâs going on. Someone pushed a glass of alcohol in my hand and I downed it, resigning myself to this happening. A wave of compliments and encouragements washed over me, and I turned on shaky knees, those several drinks Iâd already had making themselves known now that I was stood.
I took a step forward, froze, another few steps, and then promptly power-walked all the way back to the table. There was some booing and some disappointment, the girls already grumbling about how I shouldnât chicken out now.
âHow do you even flirt with someone like that?!â I hissed out in panic, not having the slightest idea of how to initiate conversation.
A barrage of tactics flew over me, one stranger than the next one, but I turned to Yeri, trusting her the most. âJust be really bold, he seems the type to like it,â she told me once she saw my trembling eyes, âwalk over all confident and say something really crazy and ballsy.â With one last smile she started pushing me away into the direction of the bar again.
Easier said than done! âJust be boldâ, thanks very much! That was the problem from the very beginning!
Putting my complaints away and pushing my brain to think of something to say to the rapidly approaching bar-dweller, I nervously dragged my gaze over him several times, stumbling in my distractedness several times. Come on brain, what do we like about him? What can we say?
As the man got closer and I got a clearer look at him, one thought overpowered every other â hands hands handshandshands.
I basically crashed into the bar upon my arrival, somewhat inelegantly attempting to lean into it with way too much force. The man startled a little before his eyes jumped up and looked straight at me, no distinct emotion discernible in them, but he certainly didnât look extremely friendly.
Before I could stop myself, I let go of the reins over my drunken brain and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
âWhat nice necklaces you got there, but donât you think theyâd look better around my neck?â
I tried to sell the statement more by putting on a (hopefully) cheeky smirk and then pointedly looked at his hands coquettishly.
The man froze, only stared at me wide-eyed and shocked to his core, hand holding his glass halfway to his lips. Silence. I started panicking, and basically begun melting down with the shame and humiliation, already prepared to apologise and slink off to some dark corner and die there, but then he smiled.
It was a wide shit-eating grin, a devilish glint in his gaze now as he obviously checked me out, eyes gliding over my figure in a clearly appreciative manner. He put his charm on thick, lips curled smugly as he stared me quite intensely.
âWell, I donât know princess, guess youâll have to try them out,â his voice was basically a purr, a deep rumble that started up in his chest and drawled out of his mouth in a velvet perfection. I shuddered, now quickly getting flustered when he was flirting back. But I steeled myself, determined to bring this to a successful end. Mama didnât raise no quitter.
âOh, and youâd let me have a test drive?â I drawled out with my fingers playing with my hair (how basic!!), only a light stutter to my words that immediately sent a wave of heat to my already red cheeks. I only hoped it wasnât visible under the lights of the club and the bar.
He leaned forward, chest now pressed into the edge of the bar, which brought our faces impossibly close. His eyes were dark and half-lidded, full of lust and dark promises, as his lips stretched in a self-satisfied smirk. The hand that used to hold the glass was now slowly, teasingly making its way up the skin of my naked arm, breaking a wave of goosebumps in its wake.
My whole body quivered, and my next exhale came out shaky; it was too audible in the tense atmosphere between the two of us. He must have definitely heard and felt my reaction, judging by his soft snicker, expression full of amusement and desire. Then his eyes bore into me, into my very soul, and threatened to consume me.
âIâd let you do that and a whole lot more, princess,â it was a whisper, but that didnât take away from the intensity of the statement and the promise in his words. It poured over me like hot honey, my back immediately straightening and thighs pushing together on instinct, trying to contain the gush of sensations hitting my lower tummy and my heat. Very embarrassingly, I could already feel my panties rapidly getting wetter and wetter; the effect of the man was immense and he knew it very well, judging by the smug aura.
With a satisfied grin his hand moved from my arm down to my thigh, squeezing the flesh right under the hem of my mini skirt. The twitch that tore through me was completely involuntary and once again I found myself fighting for every shaky breath taken.
A quiet melodic laugh hit my ears and then the ginger menace leaned even closer to whisper straight into my ear. âCute,â was all he muttered before he pulled all the way away from me, raising his hand to catch the attention of the barman, âbut first, let me treat you to a drink, kitten.â
That suddenly snapped me back into reality and my brain jumped back online. As if waking up from a terribly amazingly sweet dream, I remembered the reason why I came over in the first place â the bet. The bet I thought I would absolutely fail at that I was about to complete now.
A laugh bubbled out of my throat, sweet and mischievous, and all the confidence I pretended to feel before rushed through my body straight into my head. With a giggle I leaned in and said: âA drink you say, huh?â
My smug smirk must have been awfully annoying, but the man only looked at me with curious eyes. He sensed the change in my behaviour immediately and it threw him for a loop â his amazingly brave little lamb was now laughing at him like the she was the wolf? His head tilted to the side as he tried to figure me out, but I only made sure he was watching me as I gestured thumbs up back to my friends.
The whole table erupted into cheers, Yeri was wildly gesturing something to me and it took a moment to realise she was trying to say I won. Her finger was pointing at her phone that had the stopwatch app open and she was laughing joyfully and sending me thumbs up. I grinned at her back, elated that I was able to not only overcome the initial fear but also best all the others.
Turning back to the ginger who was watching the whole interaction with curious surprised eyes, suddenly unsure and a little less dominant. I giggled at him, happily plucked the prepared colourful drink from his waiting hand and stood up, not before bowing to him slightly.
âThank you very much, I appreciate your help,â I teased him with a wide smile, going as far as to lean heavily into his side until my lips were almost pressed to his ear as he did to me earlier and then whispered my killer shot: âIt was pleasure doing business with you.â
With that I walked away, hips swaying side to side and confidence like Iâd never felt coursing through my veins. The atmosphere at the table was unrivalled, and I had to admit it was probably the most fun Iâd ever had on a night out so far, and I probably indulged in the free drinks far more than I should have.
But whenever Iâd start feeling a little bad for my behaviour, Iâd shyly look towards the bar, hoping I wouldnât see the man too upset. He wasnât. Anytime our eyes met, the wild primal hunger reflected in his would threaten swallow me whole, sending little shocks of pleasure and heat through my whole body.
That night I spent dancing feeling those eyes bore into me, eating up my every movement and salivating over me so openly I felt the fire of his lust all across the club. He never disappointed, never failed to deliver, and I lived for it.
And if I put on a little more show than I usually did while swaying my hips and dancing to slow sensual beats, that was only my business.
âI canât believe you managed to talk me into coming here again,â I muttered grumpily to Yeri, who was happily vibrating next to me, her wide grin almost infecting me with the joy as well, but I held steadfast and kept on a frown just because. To prove a point, actually.
The girls (the same group as last time) were excitedly chattering in the line right behind us as we stood in the blistering heat of the setting sun on the street, waiting to be let inside a club. Why yes, it was the same club as last time.
The fateful Saturday night happened already full two weeks ago, and since then I havenât stopped listening about it.
As my friends watched my interaction with the handsome stranger (the next morning, incredibly sore and hungover, I shamefully realised I didnât even know his name), it suddenly was less about the bet for them and more about rooting for me to go and actually fuck him. I was so embarrassed about their loud drunken outbursts, trying to push me back into his direction and very unsubtly begging me to go and âget some premium dickâ, but I stood my ground and never strayed from the dancefloor.
When we were leaving at 4 am â tired, already in the awful stages of slowly sobering up and with melting makeup and blistering feet, I was hounded the whole time about going to get his number at least (which I didnât). I told them some things just end this way and I was okay with it (I wasnât). In reality I was just a big fat coward.
The following two weeks were hell on earth â nobody, and I mean nobody, ever stopped talking about the ginger guy and how he had me folding with two or three lines and some charming smirks. The amount of scolding I got daily for not taking him up on his offer or at least giving him some contact info was insane, and I was slowly losing my patience with it.
Thatâs why when this Saturday the suggestion to go to the club again was thrown into the group chat, I knew it was more about them hoping Iâd bump into him again than actually liking the club itself. I fought, valiantly, but I was outvoted. Someone even tried vetoing my disagreement.
So thatâs how I found myself here, about to walk inside again in a black pleated mini-skirt, black crop with a heart cutout over my cleavage and cute little strapped heels (outfit courtesy of Yeri who wouldnât let me walk out of my room until she approved that I was âextremely fuckableâ) and some courageous makeup that I was slightly unsure about but everyone kept saying it was hot.
I was nervously shuffling, leaning into Yeriâs side as she started comforting me and calming me down.
âDonât you think itâs even more awkward, seeing him again after I fucked him over like that?â I mumbled into her shoulder, careful about not smudging my red lipstick all over her pretty pink dress. Her arm coiled around me tighter and she quickly shook her head, her curled hair hitting me int the face with every move.
âAbsolutely not, you think I didnât see the way he was eye-fucking you the whole rest of the night? That was foreplay, baby. Now itâs time for the main course,â she recited confidently, and finally pushed us towards the stairs down now that the whole group was inside. I didnât fully agree with her, to me it was obvious the connection kinda fizzled out by the end of the night, but I didnât want to burst her bubble.
Tonight Iâd go along with them, comfort them through the disappointment of him not being here (because what are the chances, honestly), and if he does show up Iâd give him the awkward wave and move on and then they can cry about how anti-climactic this whole thing was. Theyâll be sad for about ten minutes and then buy shots and promptly forget about any guys.
That was my plan for the night.
And for a while, everything went according to it. Coming down into the main hall of the club, all eyes (even mine, but Iâd never admit it out loud) eagerly turned to the bar which the man was glued to the entire time, only to not see any sign of the ginger bombshell. My heart quivered in disappointment only a tiny bit, but I didnât let them see, only gave them a look that screamed âI told you soâ and moved on.
During the first few rounds I scolded myself for actually letting myself get swayed by their words and hoping for his presence against my better judgement, and quickly convinced my heart that it was for the better he didnât show up.
For a few hours we danced and drank, and it almost seemed that everyone started forgetting the reason why they even pushed to come here, the whole experience slowly turning into a normal night out, when suddenly Yeri that was dancing next to me loudly gasped into my ear.
It alerted me to her, but before I could even turn to her, she started wildly slapping my shoulder until it hurt.
âOw, ow! Stop!â I slapped her hand away, considerably gentler than she did to me, and scowled at her slightly irritated with the commotion.
âHeâs actually here!â she screamed that in my face, but with the loud music pumping all around us she might as well been whispering. The statement took the wind out of the sails of my slight annoyance and I floundered, stuttering and staring at her wide-eyed.
When Yeri realised I was too shocked to look myself, she grabbed my shoulders and forcefully turned me in the direction of the bar. I almost wanted to close my eyes, not even wanting to believe he actually did come to the club two weeks later and now I was facing the real chance of a terrible let-down, but at the same time I yearned to catch another glimpse of the ginger demon that swung my world upside down in literal seconds.
Tonight he was wearing a plain black hoodie and wider jeans with a single cut on both of his knees, showing off some pale skin that glistened under the flashing lights. He sat in the same spot, which meant currently his back was turned to us and he was none-the-wiser to our presence. He was locked into a long conversation with one of the guys manning the bar. They seemed pretty friendly, which spoke of the fact that he was most probably a frequent visitor.
I felt my palms getting clammy as I suddenly sweated for a very different reason than before. Yeri was excitedly shouting and gesturing at the rest of the group, and I saw some of their very crude and very dirty gestures back, before I turned back to the bar blushing and embarrassed.
Before I knew it, Yeri was fighting our way through the crowd towards the bar and I twisted a little in her hold, panicking and ashamed.
âYeri, wait! God, please wait!â I pleaded with her, and something in my voice must have been truly desperate because she actually listened to me. With troubled eyes she gave me a once over, clocked in the shaky eyes and unsure knees, and then changed the direction towards the hall with toilets.
It was relatively calmer there, the bass still booming through the walls and the echo of the song playing reaching our ears, but we could actually speak in a semblance of privacy where usually no one lingered for too long.
âWhatâs wrong?â my best friend asked, and to her credit, she was truly worried, but I couldnât believe she didnât understand. I threw my hands out and looked at her incredulously.
âWhat do you mean âwhatâs wrongâ?â I asked her, exasperated, âWhat donât you understand about the fact that I maybe donât want to talk to him again?!â My voice raised a little, and I did feel bad about it, but the whole situation put me too much on edge to apologise immediately.
Yeri didnât seem to be too offended, instead she just watched me with her steady all-knowing eyes, and it felt like they saw all the way inside my insecure little soul. My face crumbled under the power of that, and I knew sheâd have me spilling everything to her anyway by the end of this conversation.
âY/N, you literally have nothing to worry about,â her guess was correct, just as I feared, and I avoided her softened loving gaze, âYouâre absolutely gorgeous, and I know you know that, and I know you think youâre too awkward⌠But you had that man literally drooling all over himself. He couldnât tear his eyes away from you until the moment you walked out of that bar. He wants you, a lot.â
âI know that we kind of stared at each other, but I donât knowâŚâ I told her and I hated how weak and vulnerable my voice turned as I spilled out my insecurities to her, âthe novelty kind of wore off, didnât it? Now Iâm just an awkward girl stuttering under the gaze of the hottest guy Iâve ever fucking seen. I could barely get a word out when he looked at me.â That had my friend smirking up a storm and I narrowed my eyes at her, already knowing she was about to annoy the shit out of me.
âYeah, and as someone who watched your entire interaction, he fucking loved it,â she said firmly, a teasing lilt to her words, âPlease, trust me. Do you trust me?â Of course I fucking trusted her, so I petulantly nodded, even though I was grumbling to myself that it had nothing to do with that.
âDo you trust that I have a set of functioning eyes?â she teased some more, grinning at me mischievously as she poked me in my ribs with her fingers. Even as I tried to stay upset, the laugh was punched out of me completely involuntarily and I found myself slowly relaxing. When I nodded, her grin turned all happy and toothy.
âThen trust me when I say that the moment you walk up to him, heâll be over the fucking moon,â her voice was soft and loving, and it almost made me a little mushy, âand trust me when I say that tonight heâll definitely not let you walk away from him.â She winked as she said that and I laughed at her, pushing her a little teasingly.
I did feel lighter and less stressed. I felt like I could actually go and talk to him again, and I smiled at my best friend, knowing she just wanted the best for me and was always on my side.
âAnd if he turns out to be a dick, then youâll come back and Iâll buy us a drink and weâll curse him out,â she added cheekily, already stepping away from me to head back onto the dancefloor. That made me laugh, because⌠as if I didnât say that before.
Rejuvenated and slightly more confident, I turned from Yeri and headed in the opposite direction she went in â straight to the bar. The guy was still sitting there, still turned away from me, but now he seemed to be back to not really engaging with anyone, not even the friendly smiling barman that was currently serving drinks to someone while laughing with his coworker⌠until he wasnât.
In an inopportune moment his head turned just right for me to graze the corner of his eye and then he was full on swinging around to do a double take, startling the poor guy he worked with. Suddenly there were two sets of eyes trained on me and I froze, blushing under their gazes as the recognition set in and teasing smirks played on both of their faces.
The dark-haired one then went to wave his hand, but immediately I realised it wasnât to greet me but to alert the ginger who was kind of just staring off into nowhere. To keep the element of surprise, I lunged into movement, basically jumping the last few steps and crashing into the bar in a terrible dĂŠjĂ vu, trying to look elegant and sexy even as I winced lightly at the impact.
My back was now turned to the two little shits behind the bar, and I could only imagine the expression on their faces, but I was too preoccupied with the wide-eyed stare from the man of the hour himself.
This time he shook off the surprise way quicker, relaxing almost immediately as he realised who I was, a truly smug smirk splitting his face. His gaze was unabashedly travelling all over me, taking in every detail, and I was suddenly reminded of how intense it was to be in the centre of his attention.
âWell, well, look who it is,â he drawled out, but it was more amused than anything and I slowly started letting go of the fear that he was incredibly mad at me for our last meeting, âwhat, looking for another free drink?â
I flushed with embarrassment, avoiding his eyes as much as possible, which wasnât that much of a great idea when that brought me to staring at his hands. His cursed, beautiful hands that never strayed too far from my dreams even as I tried to forget about the man.
They started flexing, stretching across the expanse of the thick glass and showcasing their strength, and I realised I was caught. Not giving him the satisfaction of seeing my plight, I turned my gaze somewhere slightly above his shoulder, fixating on a pillar or something that stood directly behind.
âSorry about that, it was a stupid game,â I stuttered out, trying to ignore his insistent attempts to move his head to where my eyes were trained at, âIt was quite rude of me.â He chuckled and I could basically feel the entertainment seeping off of him in waves.
âDonât worry about it princess,â the velvety purr was back and the ginger clearly decided that if I wasnât going to look at him, heâll just try every dirty trick in the book. He leaned into me, lips easily finding the shell of my ear as his hand weightily clasped over the exposed skin of my thigh.
âThereâs a very easy way for you to make it up to me,â he whispered languidly, caressing over me with his sweet words, âthis time when I buy you a drink, donât run off, as easy as that.â I was so embarrassed by my previous actions I found it hard to actually answer, so I just cleared my throat and hummed low in my throat in agreement.
He seemed satisfied with that, hand moving from my leg to possessively squeeze at my waist as if he was insuring I really wouldnât leave as soon as I got my drink, and I did have to laugh at that. His narrowed eyes hit me as soon as he heard my giggles, the teasing reprimand in them spoke volumes, but he stayed silent, hand waving for the barman while his eyes never left mine.
âWhatâs up,â came the low baritone of the guy as he came closer to us. I could clearly hear the amusement in his voice, but the informal address also didnât escape me, and I started wondering who this guy actually was. This time I would at least leave the bar knowing his name, if nothing else.
Tuning out while he was ordering, I was just about to ask for his name, when the teasing voice of the younger guy registered back into my brain.
âAnd would that be on the bar, Yoongi-hyung?â it was some kind of a joke, judging by (apparently) Yoongiâs scoff even as he clearly wasnât mad or annoyed, and he shot back with: âStop asking stupid questions, Tae.â It was all jokes and games, the two men laughing and smiling at each other, when I froze in his hold.
Wait a minute. On the bar. Yoongi. Hyung. A memory rushed to the forefront of my mind â Hana excitedly rattling off about a club she wanted to go to, that she heard about because apparently the word on the streets was the owners were super hot. Saturday, two weeks ago, as she dragged us off into this club. A club owned by some guy called Min Yoongi and his friend Jung Hoseok.
The very same guy that was currently watching me go through this whole rollercoaster of realisations with an amused grin on his face, hand still securely curled around my waist and pushing me into the bar.
Jesus fucking christ.
I wasnât actually sure whether I paled or blushed, but something crazy was happening with my face as I opened and closed my mouth like a beached fish fighting for its life, finger slowly lifting and wordlessly pointing towards the ginger man.
Yoongi finally couldnât hold it back anymore and burst out laughing, the pure joy on his face making him look even more impossibly handsome with his cute smile and eyes closed in glee, but then he was suddenly fixing me with another one of his cocksure smirks and leaning closer.
âOh kitten,â he purred, and his excitement was suddenly palpable between us, his whole body trying to curl around me eagerly, âdonât tell me you didnât even know whose hands you wanted to choke you so bad?â My breath got stuck in my throat fighting to stutter out, and then I was just all pliable and melting right in his arms. Thatâs all it took, and it was absolutely pathetic on my part, but I couldnât really bring myself to feel ashamed about it, especially not when Yoongi was pulling me closer, off the bar stool and nearly wedging me between himself and the wooden bar.
âCome on, princess, whereâs my cocky little tease telling me the naughtiest things and then walking away with a huge fucking grin on her face?â the man teased me, so close that his hot breath was hitting the crook of my neck as I shivered and trembled under him, âYouâre being such a good girl right now, Iâm beginning to think this might be another one of your ploys.â
At his words, a surge of confidence hit me, reinforced by the clear lust that was dripping off of his voice, off of his aura. Suddenly I was back to the night two weeks ago, preening under his starving eyes, each moment between us packed with so much unreleased sexual tension it might have set the whole club on fire.
While Yoongi tentatively nosed under my ear, testing the waters afraid heâd push me away by being too much too fast, I sneaked my arm up his back aiming to give him exactly what he wanted.
Snaking my hand into his hair, I heard his little sigh, body pulling into me a little further as he took it as an encouragement to continue. Just as his lips lightly kissed at my neck, the slightest sweetest hint of tongue tasting the salty sweat, I grabbed a handful of the ginger locks and pulled, dragging his face away from me.
The moment our eyes met, it was like an electric current went off between us, his pupils dilated and darkened, consumed with desire, and mine couldnât have looked much different. There was slight annoyance at my action written on his pretty face, but the grin was as amused as ever, pleased, even, that I dared to go against him.
My tongue slipped through my smirking lips very briefly, just teasing the man with little extra disobedience, and it worked to pull his attention, gaze trained on my blood red lips.
âThere she is,â he whispered that almost reverently, the unfiltered joy running through him on a shiver, and I saw the exact moment he lost the battle to his instincts and surged to claim my mouth in a searing kiss.
Only⌠he never got there. Yoongi abruptly stopped midway, eyes jumping somewhere behind my shoulder, and I almost whined out loud, so desperate for his attention after I had it for a few brief moments.
But then his grin turned nasty, just downright filthy, and a shiver of arousal plundered through me. Before I knew what was happening, brain already muddled by this guy almost beyond recognition, he was spinning me in his hold. My back hit his chest, his hand splaying over my stomach in the process, and I was greeted with a delicious sight.
There was a man sitting in the chair that I was previously occupying before Yoongi pulled me off to himself, he was leaning his head on his hand that was propped up on the bar, watching us with an amused smirk and hungry eyes. I flushed under his gaze, and also from realising that heâd been watching us, but with the slightest curl of shame in my stomach I found that I really didnât mind at all.
This guy was insanely attractive as well, he had dark hair slicked back and swept off of his forehead and an expanse of skin on show. He was also dressed in all black, but a very different vibe â dress pants that hugged his waist and hips nicely, accentuating his slim form, a silken blouse that was open all the way to his fucking belly button, but somehow it still looked extremely stylish and tasteful, covering just enough while giving you a taste of exquisite miles of honey-toned skin. He topped it off with a black suit jacket that fell past his hips and hung off of him nicely. For some reason he was also wearing his sunglasses, even here inside the club.
Looking at him made me feel like a horny nun in a sex shop. I swear to god I started sweating under his obviously interested eyes that peered over the rim of those black glasses and lingered on Yoongiâs possessive hold around my waist.
His hand swiftly tugged the sunglasses off and when he looked at my face again, there was a bright friendly smile on his, but something sharper and darker lurked beneath it, sending shivers down my spine in anticipation.
âHaving a fun night, hyung?â he asked, voice happy and teasing, a laugh spilling out of him effortlessly like it was natural for him to do that with every word. Behind me there was a slight rumble as well, and I could only guess what kind of expression graced the ginger manâs face, but something hungry reflected in the newcomer at seeing it.
âHoseok-ah,â Yoongi said in greeting and I jerked, recognising that name immediately. Amusement pulsed in the air, making me feel like I suddenly got caught between two starving wolves, while I just stood there wide-eyed and blushing. âYou wouldnât believe who returned to me tonight,â the older man continued, and I could hear the shit-eating grin in his intonation.
The hand that wasnât currently lightly caressing the exposed sliver of skin between my crop and my skirt lifted from its place on the bar and laid gently on my neck, hold just strong enough to feel its weight there and fix me in place, but not to actually grasp. My heart stammered a few times in my chest, a needy noise getting stuck in my throat and tampering off into a little whiny exhale. My face was burning, but the interest of the two men seemed to skyrocket at the sound.
âOh!â the exclamation out of Hoseokâs mouth was full of unbridled thrill and he leaned closer as well, recognising the gesture as something to do specifically with me in a way that sent shame and excitement through me, âLook who it is, our very own Cinderella!â Now when his gaze swept over me, there was a slight glaze over it, like he was putting the body to the tale he must have heard from Yoongi himself.
âSo this is she,â the dark-haired man said finally when his eyes feasted enough, sparkles reflecting in them as he stared me down before he offered me his hand. Kind of dumbfounded I reached for it on instinct, making me even more aware of Yoongiâs hands coiled all around my body.
Hoseok quickly grabbed it as soon as it got within his reach, but instead of a handshake he pulled my hand to his lips and tenderly kissed the top, eyes sending me cheeky glances as I blushed under the ministration.
âNice to meet you, Cinderella, my name is Hoseok,â he stated sensually, the fire that was steadily burning right under his surface momentarily showing, and then he pulled back all sunshiney and smiley again, like he wasnât staring me down like a predator just a second ago.
âOh, thatâs right,â Yoongi suddenly mumbled, and I shamefully realised I was so pulled into Hoseokâs aura I forgot about the presence glued to my back, âWhat is your name, princess?â The dark-haired man in front of me suddenly gasped loudly, jokingly slapping his friendâs shoulder in reprimand.
âHyung, you havenât asked her till now?â he whined loudly, draping himself over the counter a little bit and making himself comfortable leaning his head on his hand again, âHow incredibly rude of you. You were about to stick your tongue down her throat without even introducing yourself.â I flushed at the reminder of what got interrupted by Hoseokâs arrival, quickly averting my eyes and staring at the floor shyly.
There were few chuckles all around, and then the hands released me. I stumbled a little, not expecting to lose my tether and allowing my legs to grow weak knowing I was being held up, but thankfully Hoseok seemed to have quite quick reflexes, and his hand shot out to grab my hip, righting me on my feet. I mumbled my thanks and leaned on the bar casually like I was just waiting for my drink, trying to ignore the mounting sexual tension between the three of us.
Quickly clearing my throat, I hoped to dispel the slight awkwardness that suddenly overtook me, drumming my fingers on the bar. Suddenly realising that the drink Yoongi ordered for me stood completely forgotten and melting there, I reached for it and started downing it while I felt their amused but still ravenous eyes on my figure.
âI know, Hobi-ya, Iâve been such a bad host,â Yoongi purred out, fingers playing with the glass with what I assumed was whiskey. Since every time my gaze got stuck on his perfect hands his ego seemed to grow even more (which I thought to be impossible, but Yoongi proved to be an impossible man, so it checked out), I tried to avoid the sight, but my eyes still got dragged down every once in a while, lured in by the massive rings flashing under the lights and the pretty veins flexing with every movement.
There was some rapport between them, shooting one clever dirty remark after another, but I sort of tuned them out for a moment, getting lost in the world of possibilities that opened before me quite abruptly. I try to win a bet and end up getting chatted up by not one, but two owners of the very club. I almost wanted to run off just to whisper this to Yeri and giggle about it with Hana, some slight snickers escaping my mouth at the image of her wide-open mouth at finding out who these guys were.
âWhat are you laughing at, Cinderella?â a voice right next to my ear tears me out of my musings, and I immediately shuddered, feeling the hot puff of air of his breath hitting the tender skin of my neck. Hoseok was grinning at me wickedly when I turned to him, so close I could count all of his perfect pretty lashes.
Belatedly I realised I never actually introduced myself, the conversation getting derailed immediately and I got so flustered I forgot he even asked, so I cleared my throat and said: âMy nameâs Y/N.â It came out a little scratchy still, emphasizing how deliciously nervous they made me, which in turn served to excite them even more â I could see it in their dark expectant eyes.
Then I smirked, regaining a little bit of sense now that I wasnât helplessly caught in Yoongiâs sweet net. âAnd thatâs none of your business,â I added, barely supressing the desire to stick out my tongue at him. Iâd keep that one in the arsenal, I was sure Iâd get many a chance to be bratty at him until the morning.
Hoseok hummed, a spark running through him at the tiniest bit of attitude, but then he smirked back.
âI see what you mean, hyung, you do have to push her a little to get to that fire,â the dark-haired man said almost too conversationally, like they were discussing their favourite drinks. His head tilted as he regarded me and I felt almost undressed under the weight of that stare. Looking at him, he was clearly already thinking of how heâd like to push me to get the reactions he wanted, so I chose to ignore him even as heat threatened to overtake my face.
Instead I narrowed my eyes at Yoongi, who was trying to look as innocent as possible but he couldnât hide the devilish spark about him, his smile a little too sharp to get away with anything.
âWhat exactly have you been telling him?â my voice tilted in faux anger, but there was a grin tugging at my lips even as I was attempting to fix him with my stare. Needless to say, he wasnât intimidated in the slightest.
Leaning forward, until our noses were almost brushing and our breaths mingled, and I felt my knees getting a little weak again, he grinned. âNothing but the truth.â We were locked in what Iâd call an eye-fucking staring contest, but neither of us wanted to back down. As I started to feel a little more comfortable in their presence, I quickly found my spine again, and they clearly liked when I sassed them a little. So I let go and slipped into my usual stance.
âWell, I originally came here to talk shop, but this is much more interesting,â came Hoseokâs voice from our right, and we both looked over at the same time. He was watching us with an obvious smile, but not the ones like before, no. This one made me shiver (as if they havenât been doing that for the entire night).
I quickly spun around, leaning on the bar with my back instead of my front, and looked seemingly carelessly into the crowd, partly trying to annoy them a little and partly actually searching for Yeri to make sure she knew I was okay.
âI donât know what youâre talking about, thereâs clearly nothing happening,â I sing-songed slyly, making sure I put a little distance between all of us. Yoongi, who was clearly the one more experienced with me bolting, was shifting around on his stool, and for the first time that evening I realised how much they both towered over me even with my heels, even when they both sat and I was standing. It was exhilarating, like getting slowly sweetly hunted.
I made eye contact with my best friend exactly the second two hands from two different directions wrapped around me and fixed me to place, Hoseokâs elegant hand squeezing at my waist while Yoongiâs bejewelled one made itself home in the crook of my neck, as close to grabbing me by the throat as he could get away with in the middle of a crowded club.
I stuttered out a gasp, my thoughts screeching to a halt and Yoongi took the chance to dip down to my ear and whisper: âYouâre not running away from us that easily, pretty girl.â I couldnât help the little smirk, thinking back to Yeriâs words promising me that if I went to speak to him, he wouldnât let me go again. Oh how right she was, and sheâd be super annoying about it later, but right now I was so glad she convinced me to go Iâd accept all the teasing later.
Yeri was watching the interaction with sharp eyes, face a little worried at the sudden appearance of a second man. She raised her hand in the universal âokâ gesture, a question written into her features. I quickly nodded, not wanting to leave her hanging, and then turned to Yoongi and staring right into his eyes.
âIf I knew you were this desperate for me, Iâd have given you a few more crumbs last time,â I teased him shamelessly, too satisfied with myself for Yoongiâs liking. He growled lightly, the rumble rising through his chest and throat and vibrating on my shoulder. The ginger ducked his head back into my neck and then there was a quick warning nip to the soft skin, which had me gasping breathlessly, thrumming in their arms.
Hoseok was quietly laughing to my right, free hand amusing itself by playing with my dark curled hair while he amusedly watched his hyung getting provoked like that.
With blown out pupils and wild heart jumping around in my chest I turned again to find Yeriâs eyes once more. She was glancing our way occasionally, and by now the other girls noticed as well, all hooting and hollering and gesturing at me happily. I grinned back, and then pulled out my phone from my little bag and tapped it so everyone saw. It was our gesture to have them check their messages.
With that I slowly pulled myself from their hands, and as possessively as they both clutched at me, once I actually showed the intent to leave, they both let go easily, leaning back in their chairs. I could see the moment of nervousness in Yoongiâs eyes, probably afraid heâd taken it too far with the bite, but I smirked at both of them, trying to ease them a little.
âGentlemen, I need to use the restroom,â I announced heartily, thrusting my bag into Hoseokâs hands, âI trust this will be safe with you.â With a little wink, clutching my phone in hand, I turned on my heel and happily bounced through the throngs of people towards the quiet hallway.
Once there, I quickly pulled up the group chat, not being able to keep this all to myself anymore.
Petty bitch: you wonât fucking believe me what I found out
The slew of messages was immediate, some begging for the tea and some berating me for texting them when I had two very hot men to make out with.
Pink nightmare: istfg if you donât tell me now
Petty bitch: calm down lol, iâm not gonna leave you hanging
Petty bitch: you know who these guys are?
Petty bitch: min yoongi and jung hoseok
Dressed to distress: ARE YOU FUCKING FOR REAL RIGHT NOW??????
Dressed to distress: Y/N YOU BETTER NOT BE PULLING YM BALLS RIHGT NOW
Dressed to distress: istfg you better go there and fuck them until they canât walk or iâll never speak to you again
Pink nightmare: i think Hana almost passed out when she read that
Dressed to distress: shut up itâs big news
Dressed to distress: itâs THE min yoongi and jung hoseok
Dressed to distress: FUCK THEM. N O W.
I was laughing at the endless barrage of messages, Hana and Yeri taking over the group chat with their combined freaking out and subtle threats to end our friendship if I leave again. The smile on my face was fixed permanent at that point, and the warmth spread through me quickly knowing I had such support out there, even though it was about getting fucked senseless.
Petty bitch: aye aye captain, will do sir
Dressed to distress: you better
Petty bitch: you were right tho yeri, about what you said before
Pink nightmare: i know ;)
With one last smile at the screen, I locked the device again and made my way back to the bar, where the two man conversed leisurely. A third chair was pulled between them, waiting and empty, and Hoseok was still securely clutching onto the little red handbag. I supposed that was the only reason they were being so chill, though I wouldnât understand anyone that would be able to walk away from them for the second time.
Confidently walking over, I went straight for the empty stool and sat down without glancing at either of the men, instead gesturing at the smiley barman, Tae if I remembered correctly. He waved at me and without saying anything he started preparing my drink.
Well, there was a certain advantage to being the girl that his bosses were about to fuck.
Said men didnât waste a second and immediately engulfed me in their warmth, flanking both my sides, hands wandering around the small of my back or the exposed skin of my thighs (that one was definitely Yoongi, judging by the cooling feeling of heavy jewellery dragging across the heated skin that made me shiver more than I was prepared to admit).
A small talk started up between us, talking about mostly nothing or inconsequential things, about what we did that day or whether I also got mad at the latest change in bus schedule (Hoseok got weirdly passionate about that, considering he most definitely either drove a high-end car or even had a chauffeur).
But it was increasingly more difficult to pay attention to a single thing that was said when their hands slowly but surely strayed more and got bolder and bolder, with Hoseokâs sliding up, up, under my little top, until his thumb was sliding across the line of my bra, while Yoongi had managed to slowly inch his way almost all the way under my skirt. He was so close to accidentally brushing against the edge of my panties, and it was driving me insane.
I was endlessly squirming in my seat, legs constantly fighting to either fall further open or squeeze under the rush of sensations, either giving the smug man more opportunities to caress my inner thigh or just trapping his hand there.
And as if sensing what Yoongi was doing, and how he kept me on edge, Hoseok begun inching his head closer, leaning in until I felt every word he said on the skin of my naked shoulder, until his soft lips were brushing against me with every laugh and murmur, sometimes even giving up the pretence of polite conversation and just openly kissing his way around my crop when he wasnât talking.
It took me entirely too long to realise they were just winding me up on purpose, finding new stupid stuff to bring up just to prolong the sweet torture.
I snapped sometimes in the middle of a heated debate over soap dispensers in public bathrooms, just as Yoongi was detailing his thought process over choosing the ones they had in their restrooms.
âAre you planning to finger me right here on the bar?â I jumped into his spiel, the frustration bleeding into my voice, âOr are we going to talk about soap until morning?â Yoongi immediately shut up, amused grin playing on his lips and his hand flexing on my thigh at the mention of fingering. Hoseok also froze where he was in the middle of gently mouthing at the back of my neck, and I felt his lips pull into a smirk.
Tae that was just passing by looked horrified though and started protesting basically as soon as I was done with my little outburst.
Before I knew what was happening, both men were on their feet and pulling me along, each one hand in their grasp. There was a quick understanding between them, and they both started off in the same direction.
âI thought youâd never ask,â Hoseok purred, overcome by the excitement, âNo matter how hot fingering you at the bar would be, letâs reserve that for when the clubâs closed.â The promise of future endeavours worked like a charm on me, and I quickly melted into their embrace, speeding up to keep up with their rushed steps.
Turns out, they were going towards a dark door, coloured just well enough to blend into the walls. Yoongi impatiently started unlocking it, almost barging into it once the key finally turned. It opened to a narrow little barren hallway that ended in stairs going up.
The three of us couldnât fit there side by side, so I ended up with Hoseokâs arm around my shoulders with Yoongi going ahead, taking the stairs by two. Up there was a little space and a singular door, which finally led into what must have been their office space.
It was a nice room, a little dark, there was only a single small window and it was currently night outside, but it was decorated nicely, giving it a modern yet cozy feel. There was a dark wood desk in one corner, with a massive chair behind it, and a nice little conference table with a comfortable sofa in the other.
Hoseok led us straight towards there, but just as I wanted to move to sit on the nice dark blue furnishing, I was pulled down by the man and we both tumbled onto the soft carpet instead. He cleverly manoeuvred me so that once down, I ended up almost in his lap, and his arm coiled around my waist quickly to keep me pressed up against him.
Iâd have laughed at his cheekiness, I would have, but then his face was buried in my neck and finally kissing in earnest, and all that came out of me was a pleased sigh. There was clinking coming from somewhere behind us, but I ignored it in favour of running my hand up Hoseokâs back until it was tangled into his styled hair. He released a few pleasured chuffs and then he was pulling back.
I whined, I couldnât help myself, and I wasnât even particularly ashamed of it once I saw his teasing smile. The dark-haired man amused himself by pressing in closer, our lips only a breath away, and then jerking from me when I tried to close the distance, laughing in earnest at my frustration.
His hands kneaded my hips, similarly pulling me close enough but then keeping me in place when I tried to shuffle closer, until I had enough. I was so turned on, not only from the teasing from before, worked up from their gentle touches on the bar, but also from being so close to finally having what I wanted only to be entertainment for him. So fine, if he wanted to play, letâs play.
Using the hand in his hair, I tugged at it a little harsher than before, enough to jerk Hoseokâs head back as he wasnât expecting it. A little hiss of pain escaped his lips, but even as I quickly descended on him I saw the swirl of arousal in his eyes. Using the moment of surprise, I finally crashed our lips together and barrelled into him, not giving him a chance to stop me when I finally climbed atop his lap properly and made myself home there.
He took it all in stride, giving me what I wanted, happily so if his overjoyed little noises were anything to go by. I didnât give him a chance to tease more by controlling the pace of the kiss, instead I kissed him filthily from the beginning, going in hard.
Hoseok matched my pace easily, accepting all of my desire and doubling it with his own, wasting no time in licking into my mouth, pushing his tongue in and claiming me thoroughly. We battled for dominance briefly, our tongues messily pushing against each other, the kiss descending into heated wet chaos, but it was mind-meltingly good and I couldnât stop the outpouring of moans that the man eagerly swallowed and answered with his own.
When we finally separated for air, I suddenly became aware of the fact that Iâve been rocking against him as his hands firmly gripped at my waist, supporting the flow of my movements.
We breathed heavily into each other, my brain already muddled and its only goal turning to getting railed into oblivion. Hoseokâs gaze was trained somewhere off to my left and I turned, being greeted by the sight of Yoongi leisurely sprawled over the sofa, whiskey glass hanging from his hand.
His eyes were beyond starving, fixed on us in a manner that excited me as much as it unnerved me, but then Hoseok was chuckling into my ear and whispering âhyung must like the showâ and my head was spinning with the force of lust that surged through me.
This time when I lunged for another kiss, the man was already expecting me, accepting me. Hoseok was full of eager noises, sighs and moans and groans, all escaping into my hungry mouth and sounding through the room alongside the wet smacking of our lips. And I wasnât far behind, the quiet moans spilling out freely as my hips jerked over the man, this time very much with purpose.
There was a bulge increasingly hardening right beneath my soaked centre, and every time I rubbed against it there was a hitch in both of our staggered breathing. My skirt has long since ridden all the way up, pretty much exposing my panties to Yoongiâs eager eyes as he watched me hump his friend.
Our mouths fell apart for breath, but Hoseok immediately trailed wet scorching kisses down my jaw and neck, licking into the skin there. At first I didnât even realise when the scales of power started tipping the other way, not until I was suddenly pulled up and slammed down on the little table, splayed on my back and with a very horny man attached to me and pushing me into the sturdy wood.
My head was spinning and I could barely see through the haze, the fog filling my mind with every swipe of Hoseokâs talented tongue, and when I bumped into something I didnât even care that much. Not until the dark-haired man bit down hard at the junction of my neck and I threw my head back with a debauched scream, body seizing and arms flying back in an attempt to grasp onto something.
Soft jean material was suddenly between my fingers, and I started slowly noting that there was a bony leg underneath it.
Hoseokâs hips relentlessly pushed into mine, jerking into me and letting me feel every inch of his now erect cock, still confined to his silken pants.
âGoing to ruin your expensive slacks, pretty boy,â I gasped out with a laugh and the man scoffed into the skin in the crook of my neck. His hips slowed down to a drawled-out grind, torturing me with delicious drag of the prominent bulge through the thin material of my panties.
I felt his big strong hand splayed out on the meat of my thigh, holding my leg curled around his hips and pinning me into place.
âIâm not a teenager anymore, angel, I can hold my own,â he purred between licks and kisses, enjoying the slowed down pleasure as it made me squirm in impatience, since the turn in pace was quite sudden.
âOh yeah? Youâre already a big boy?â I teased right back, little gasps and moans escaping me with every sharp nip to my neck. I was already breathless, writhing around on the table under a man who seemed to be gradually more and more cocksure as the seconds ticked by.
Hearing my words, he ground his hips into me with surprising force, shocking a moan out of me. âCanât you feel for yourself?â he giggled into my ear, upping the tempo and force behind his thrusts until I was thrown around and had no idea where was up and down.
Brain overrun with pleasure, any kind of smart retort died in my throat under the sudden onslaught of pleasure coursing through me, only desperately holding onto Hoseokâs shoulders while he ravaged me. The little table pitifully squeaked under us, but it seemed it would hold even with how wild he was getting.
âOh? No more witty remarks?â he now fully teased, enjoying this little game we had going, âDo you only behave when youâre fucked into oblivion?â
Before I could respond, Hoseok straightened out, hands migrating to hold down my hips as he jerked into me and laughed down at me. I couldnât even begin to imagine what sight I made â flushed, with messy hair and red lipstick smeared around my lips. His eyes drank me up hungrily, mouth open and tongue licking his lips like I was the most delicious dessert. There was a tinge of red on them from mine too, and with his blown out eyes it painted such an erotic picture I felt myself clench around nothing.
A deep dark chuckle from behind me made me remember the fact that there actually was another person here with us, but I didnât turn to look at him. Instead I channelled all my energy into smirking towards Hoseok.
He himself was far from collected, a tiny line of sweat breaking out at his hairline and his cheeks were a healthy red colour, eyes hazy and dark. Sensing my rebellion, he smiled sweetly and waited for what Iâd grace them with.
âAnd you think you have it in you to do that?â I gasped out cheekily, almost even winking at him, but instead I settled for letting my tongue peek out slightly and poking my upper lip with it, âA healthy confidence is sexy, but donât oversell yourself, pretty boy.â
The moment Hoseokâs eyes darkened with slight aroused irritation, face pulling into a hard dominant mask, I knew Iâd succeeded in pushing his buttons just right. I felt the hands holding me tighten, but his hips abruptly stilled.
A disbelieving chuckle came from Yoongi, who must have been comfortably sitting on the sofa behind us watching everything unfold. âNow youâve done it, princess,â his deep raspy voice rumbled amusedly.
Anticipation set heavy into my bones, my whole body thrumming in excitement while I watched the tick in Hoseokâs jaw. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head, no doubt coming up with some way to punish me.
âWell, I think we have to teach our little guest some manners, donât you hyung?â it was like a switch turned in him and there was no trace of the happy smiley man he was mere minutes ago, now only intense determination shined through his face as he began pulling away from me.
Yoongi hummed, then there was a sound of shifting and suddenly the manâs breaths were hitting my ear, the goosebumped skin of my neck shivering at his abrupt proximity. âI couldnât agree more, Hob-ah,â the ginger whispered, but in the quiet office it was still perfectly audible.
The smirk that split Hoseokâs face was completely different from the one before and it frankly sent shivers down my spine in a somewhat jittery excitement.
Both men then stood up, leaving me alone on the table. Before I knew it, I was whining like a little abandoned pup, scrambling to get up as well, but a firm gesture to stay from Hoseok had me freezing in my spot, only a whimper escaping my mouth where I laid.
I watched them as they rummaged through a small closet, each pulling out something else. When they turned back to me, Yoongi was hiding something behind his back while Hoseokâs hand was wrapped around with some colourful piece of cloth. They made no move closer to me though, just stood there and watched me sprawled out on the little table.
I was squirming under their heated gazes, a little unsure and a lot desperate. I just wanted their hands on my body, their cocks stuffed in whatever hole they pleased, but I was so awfully alone there on that little table â that must have been illegal. Fighting the whimpers from trickling out of my mouth, I seeped in my embarrassment and lust, eyes begging them for anything.
âLook at her hyung,â Hoseok started, ever the more talkative one of the duo, âlook how obedient and desperate she gets when we take the pleasure away from her.â The older manâs eyes glided over me for the thousandth time, hungry and burning, and I almost cowered from them on instinct.
âNot so mouthy now, are we princess?â he teased as well, in that voice of his that made me embarrassingly aroused.
Within moments Hoseok was back onto me, but now he just grabbed my waist and pressed me into the wood, arms and hips holding me from squirming but not touching me in any relief-inducing way.
I almost whined again when suddenly Yoongiâs hands entered my periphery from above, where he was situated back on the sofa behind me. While Hoseok held me still, the man grabbed both of my hands and started gently fastening a tie around the wrists, slowly enough to let me see what he was doing and loosely enough for me to protest anytime.
But the second I saw that happening, my breath hitch in excitement and I arched into Hoseokâs hands, the man quietly snickering to himself.
âThis okay?â Yoongiâs voice was completely serious, devoid of any teasing from before. I nodded, but quickly remembered myself and before he could ask I rasped out a âyes!â. The answering smile washed over me along with a little murmur of âgood girlâ and I positively melted under them, hips desperately pushing down to find Hoseokâs.
âAre you familiar with the colour system?â the dark-haired man asked this time, eyes trained on his hyung carefully twisting and turning the tie to properly fasten a comfortable safe knot on it. I caught myself as I started nodding again, and instead croaked out another affirmative, pulling satisfied smiles out of them just as Yoongi lightly yanked on the binding and the knot shrank and tightened until it was snugly sitting on the skin of my wrists.
âAnything, and I mean anything, feels weird â donât hesitate to let us know,â with last comforting murmur Yoongi moved back to sit onto the sofa â my nod must have been enough for him â and as he went my arms stretched backwards over my head. The ginger leisurely held onto the fabric like it was a leash, giving me slight room to move, but keeping his presence known.
Hoseokâs reassuring smile melted into a smug smirk and I held my breath in anticipation, ready to accept anything the man had in store for me. But instead of returning to me, he pulled back once more, the hands on my hips now almost bruising.
In a split of a second I found myself flipped over. My front hit the table with a big clank, almost sending the poor piece of furniture to the ground and knocking the wind out of me. Hoseok released a big breath, one hand pushing at the small of my back and keeping me pinned down, while the other started a slow journey up the outside of my thigh.
His teasing fingers at first only lightly grazed underneath the skirt, caressing the sensitive yearning skin before finally pushing the clothing out of the way, completely exposing my panties clad ass to the room. I shivered slightly, but the temperature was comfortable and I was only filled with overwhelming waves of lust and eagerness.
Hoseokâs hand gently caressed the skin for a moment, sometimes kneading and grabbing at the meat of my ass and lulling me into a false sense of security, before abruptly pulling back and landing a harsh slap on the right cheek. I gasped out a choked moan, whole body jerking forward with the force until my hips barrelled straight into the table. A loud bang of the table taking the hit combined with my noise of pleasure sounded through the room in a strange yet satisfying cacophony.
In this position I could clearly see Yoongi lounging back on the sofa watching us with dark eyes, hands flexing on the tie holding my bound wrists. His eyes jumped to mine the second his friend started administering the chosen punishment, something predatory swimming in them at my reaction. In that moment he felt more like a beast than a man, and one that wanted to eat me whole. The thought made me shudder, but in the best way possible.
I was quite sure that my own eyes must have been dazed and hazy with lust, as I could barely see through the film of pleasure blinding me, and Yoongi seemed to love that more than anything.
âGive her another, Hobi,â he encouraged the dark-haired man, and I realised he was probably monitoring whether I was okay as much as enjoying the view.
But all thoughts of anything flew right out of my mind the moment Hoseokâs hand descended onto me again, this time to the left side. The shock of pain ran through me like a zap of electricity, melting into pleasure as soon as it hit my bloodstream. The vision of Yoongi in front of me blurred as my eyes rolled back, a strangled moan releasing into the tensed air between us.
The next four spanks came quickly one right after the other, alternating between the cheeks and leaving behind stinging buzzing skin, more sensitive with every touch. I felt the burn there, and the ache of my hips continuously ramming into the wooden table also kept reminding me my position. But I didnât care, too busy trying to dampen down my increasingly more high-pitch desperate groans and moans, before I embarrassed myself too much.
The wetness building up between my thighs was almost embarrassing, and I started to worry any moment I would start dripping down my legs just over a few spanks, and then Hoseok would never let me live it down.
Speaking of the devil, the man switched again to gently caressing the reddened tender area, humming lowly in his throat. I slumped onto the table, whining and whimpering at every soft swipe of his hand, every delicate pinch and handful he grabbed. Yoongi was smirking at me, but stayed silent, giving his friend all the space to do whatever he wanted.
âLook at you, being such a good girl now,â he purred slowly behind me, pushing his erection into my clothed core once more and teasing me with the hardened bump griding into me. The sudden realisation that I was wet enough for squelches to be heard with his tight thrusts hit me square in the chest and pushed another pathetic moan out of my throat. His hands once again pinned me down by my hips, making sure I wasnât squirming underneath him and wouldnât try to grind back at him, but I heard him groaning under his breath when he realised the same thing as well.
âAll I had to do was spank you a little and put you in your place, and suddenly youâre all out of smart remarks,â Hoseok continued smugly (if a little breathlessly), hips smoothly riding me. I could hear his little sighs and half-moans with every thrust, obviously more desperate for relief than he was trying to let on.
I wanted to speak back to him, but my mind was blank, filled only with thoughts of his cock and his hands on me. Opening my mouth, only thing that was able to come out were strangled groans, and I worried I might start drooling soon too. And even if I did manage to speak, no doubt the only thing Iâd be able to formulate would be pleas for Hoseok to stuff me full of his cock and fuck me dumb.
Yoongi was watching me with amusement, like I was pathetic, and the humiliation was burning through me and heightening everything I was already feeling.
âAw, look at her hyung,â Hoseok continued, âcanât even speak now.â The older man hummed in satisfaction, tugging lightly on the tie and jostling me into paying more attention to the interaction. I put the last strains of brain power into talking back, the final try before I would be too lost and cock drunk.
âSo pleased with yourselves, arenât you boys,â the words came out of my mouth slightly slurred, but the cheeky lilt was still clearly detectable, and I chuckled tiredly, shimmying under Hoseokâs firm hands to try and get his cock closer to me.
To which the man swiftly reacted by pulling his hips away and instead bending over me. I felt the feather-light brushes of his shirt over the exposed parts of my back, but Hoseok never came any closer â not enough to feel his skin, only to have the feverish warmth of his body seep slowly into me from above.
âBe careful what you say, pretty,â his low voice warned me, the words delivered a touch too sensually to fully register in my mind, âthat is, if you wanna get fucked tonight.â
âHow many spanks did you get, princess?â Yoongiâs question came before my hazy brain could even fully process Hoseokâs warning, but I managed to choke out the answer, muddled mind going through the sharp delicious impacts to my skin.
Both men hummed, pleased that I kept track even without being told to. Hoseok finally lowered himself onto me, chest plastered to my back, skin pasted to skin by a thin sheen of sweat.
âNow, I was considering letting you off with six,â he murmured straight into my ear, âbut it seems you do need the whole ten.â Then he was gone, only reminder of his presence was the sudden cold spot over me and the tingles running through my skin where we touched, and I shivered. My hips still pushed back needily, and he let me for a few moments, before his hand was back to caressing the throbbing red skin of my bottom.
The first spank was a fast one, delivering a more intense sting than the ones before. I gasped and braced myself, eagerly pushing my ass out and arching my back. Someone chuckled, and I had a hard time deciphering who, all my attention channelled into the two hands fondling the meat of my ass leisurely.
The press of his fingers into the burning flesh was something I swore Iâd be able to remember 20 years from now, the sensation almost classifying as a life-changing event for my pathetic little brain as the anticipation of the next three spanks drove me crazy with need.
âSheâs presenting nicely like a bitch in heat,â a deep voice whispered breathlessly, mockery and arousal mixing into his tone, âare we sure this is even a punishment for her?â In lieu of answer only a whiney moan left my mouth, hips shaking desperately and attempting to push back just as Hoseok delivered another sharp blow.
The last two were a little hazy for me â they came in a fast succession and immediately after the calming cooling caress of Hoseokâs hand returned, his voice soothing me with reassuring coos and purrs.
âWhat a good girl,â Yoongi whispered, tugging at the tie again to check on me. The praise poured over me, replenishing me body and soul like I was a thirsty traveller stumbling upon an oasis, and I slowly raised my head from the wood to blearily blink at the man. I was pretty sure there was a line of drool connecting me to the table, but I was too fried to care.
The ginger smiled at me, looking pleased more than anything, but still giving his younger friend free reign. Said man gave my bum a few more gentle pats before he helped me turn around on my back again, hooking my legs over his elbows to make it a little easier for me.
His face was flushed, a predatory grin spread over his face. I watched a drop of sweat slide down his neck and plunge down the perfect almost exposed chest, and while the manâs hair was all messy from our previous kissing, lips red from the lipstick I wore, his clothes were still firmly in place.
He was watching me with such overwhelming desire I almost melted right on the spot, the full force of my arousal making itself known in a single burst of fire. Suddenly the wetness in my panties became nigh unbearable, and my pussy fruitlessly clenched and oozed more juice in hopes of getting stuffed soon. And with Hoseokâs cock so close to my centre I was going even more mad with it.
âWhat do we think, baby? Have we learnt our lesson?â he asked me in a cheery voice, the taunting lilt provoking me and pushing my heated brain into overdrive to come up with a swift comeback. In the end I let the lust override the reason and blurted out what I really wanted.
âWe think,â I started, my voice all breathless with a little rasp, âthat maybe you should bury your pretty face in my cunt.â Immediately after those words tumbled out of me, a blush overtook my face in unexpected shyness. Even now I was still getting embarrassed â Iâve never bratted this much to anyone and Iâve certainly never said those exact words before â it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.
Hoseok tsked at me and then looked to the older man while lightly shaking his head in faux disappointment.
âOh dear, I think itâs only making her mouthier,â some darker breathier excitement crept into his voice, and it had me alerted in an instant, âwhat do we do, hyung?â The beastly smirk Yoongi gave in response felt like a bucket of ice water hitting me straight into my face, and I realised that they were planning something more from the beginning and I just played straight into their hands.
âI know these types, Hoseok-ah,â the ginger played along, but he was too excited to sell it properly, âand only one thing ever seems to work on them.â With that his hand reached somewhere down the sofa and grabbed a thin black flexible stick.
A whip. He had a whip.
My mind got transported back to before they spanked me, how Yoongi seemed to hide something behind his back. I got distracted real fast after that, but this must have been it.
Iâd never used it before with anyone and as much as slight nervousness set into me, it was heavily overshadowed by the rush of exhilaration. With a single look at it I felt my body jerk in response, pussy clenching and singing in praise.
âLetâs see how bratty you are when youâre too busy crying from overstimulation, princess,â debauchery dripping off of him like pouring rain, pelting me right in my weakest points and leaving me gasping and breathless. I very much did want to see that.
A loud snapping of fingers had me whirling my head back to Hoseok who wore a serious expression, only getting emphasised by the obvious lust swirling in his blackened orbs.
âColour, baby?â he rasped out, hands kneading the meat of my thighs slowly, in a hypnotising loop of thrills. I swallowed with some difficulty, getting steadily pulled into his intense gaze.
âG-green,â I stuttered out, buckling under the sudden aura these two were exuding, like I only now realised that I was in the presence of two domineering men. The slight hesitation before my answer was noticed as well, and while I was merely taking my time to know surely this is something I wanted, the men seemed to be worried by it.
âYou sure?â Hoseok enquired again, mellowing out the rough touch into a gentle caress to make me more comfortable. I nodded, hurriedly and a tad too excitedly, drawing a chuckle from Yoongi still sitting behind me.
âYes. Green,â I repeated, this time firmer and surer to chase away any doubts they could have. Yoongiâs hand started a slow path along the sensitive inside of my arm, his energy shifting into something more predatory and tangible, making sure I was aware of him.
âHave you ever played with a whip before, princess?â the ginger drawled out sensuously, amusement evident in his tone. I wanted to turn my head to look at him, but I couldnât tear my eyes away from the way Hoseokâs face crumbled back into lust.
âNoâŚâ the word slipped out of my mouth in a whisper. It almost felt like both of them were holding their breath for something, something that was escaping me in my scrambled state.
âAre you excited to try?â came the next question, now feeling Yoongi lightly nose at my wrists, just shy of kissing there, making me shudder under the sensation. I just breathlessly nodded, not having the strength to actually find my voice. The ginger snickered and smacked a loud kiss to one of my wrists.
âDonât worry baby, weâll go easy on you,â he whispered the promise and then pulled away again, gesturing at Hoseok to do what he wanted. The dark-haired man happily giggled and immediately grabbed my thighs, spreading them without much preamble.
I squeaked in surprise, hands jerking to go cover myself, but they got tugged back into Yoongiâs lap. Hoseok paid me no mind though, and didnât waste time in putting his lips to the smooth skin near my ankle, showing off with loud wet kisses trailing quickly down.
As he was descending down my legs, his quick skilful hands found their way beneath my skirt (that was barely covering anything anyway) and started tugging at my panties, dragging them up my thighs to take them off. The wet spot spanned almost the entire seat of the panties and the size of it would be more embarrassing if I didnât see the way Hoseokâs eyes rolled back at the sight, the excitement rushing through his body on a shudder. At the same time a veiny knuckley hand descended onto me from behind and tugged my crop up to release my tits from my bra.
Before I knew it Hoseok was bending over and had his face buried in my cunt while the handy little whip was teasingly circling one of my nipples. I barely managed to gasp out, drowning under sudden barrage of sensations and body growing confused under the different stimulations.
The dark-haired man started enthusiastically licking around my drenched folds, swiftly attaching himself to my clit and sucking with loud slurps, hands tightening on my thighs and keeping them thrown over his shoulders. The zap of pleasure hit me like a tank and I arched, mouth opening on a silent moan â and Yoongi, the bastard that he was, chose that exact moment to raise the whip and slap one of my nipples enough that it stung a little.
The desperate cry that left my mouth was almost unrecognisable from my voice, but it wasnât a negative noise â quite the opposite, if the rush of slick that hit Hoseokâs hungry mouth still latched onto my pussy was anything to go by. The man groaned, debauched and dark eyes rolling back into his skull, before redoubling his efforts and wildly licking and sucking at the swollen lips and clit, slowly working his tongue around my hole and pushing in.
While my body tried to cope with the flood of liquid fire from Hoseokâs eager ministrations, my brain was continuously stuttering under the stinging sensation of Yoongiâs whip slapping my nipples in a seemingly whimsical manner. The man of course, once he caught wind of my obvious interest, didnât hold back and used the little tool to alternatingly caress and lightly smack both of my breasts.
The dual stimulation made my brain melt quick, and soon I found myself to be a drooling moaning mess under the ministrations of two eager demons. I was teetering on the edge of cumming, the heat and pleasure accumulating in my lower belly until it was dangerously close to consuming me whole; and with every little suck on my clit and another hit from the whip I jerked a little closer to it snapping.
But it wouldnât be them if they didnât play with me a little, and every time Hoseok felt me nearing the edge he pulled off, roughly biting into the meat of my thighs to distract me with more delicious pain while watching his hyung distribute his own discipline on me.
âFuck, I donât think I can take it anymore,â he moaned helplessly into my skin finally, hand migrating to grab and fondle the bursting tent in his black slacks, groaning in relief immediately.
âGo ahead Hob-ah, have your fun,â Yoongi purred from the couch, the warmed leather of the whip now trying to soothe the sting with gentle caresses. The man didnât even answer verbally, only let himself slump into me with a loud moan.
Once again he wasted no time, hands scurrying to undo his pants. He quickly shucked of his blouse, revealing the beautiful smooth muscled torso he hid beneath. I only had a moment to fully sink in the beauty of his arms stretching as he pulled his top off before his trousers were pushed down his hips. Sinking all the way to his knees, Hoseok paid them no more attention as he started hurriedly fisting his flushed red cock just begging for release.
Reminiscent of my reaction to getting spanked, I was unwittingly spreading my legs and arching off the table to offer up my pussy to him on a silver platter. The sinful smirk he gave in response made me even wetter (if that was possible), and I released a series of high needy moans.
âLook at our baby, all mute and docile now,â Hoseok teased, smirking up a smug storm, somehow regaining some semblance of a composure. I couldnât find it in myself to reply, brain mush and hole wet and needy, so I just moaned again. It was so much easier to let myself ride the wave, to let all thoughts slip away and give myself over into their skilful hands â I felt no more need to sass back, I just wanted to cum. The two men giggled, and I heard a tearing of a foil packet, redirecting my dazed eyes towards Hoseok just to see him putting on a condom.
Anticipation ran through me, my horny mind recognising that I would be getting cock inside of me soon, needy cunt clenching and gushing desperately. Hoseok started pushing in practically immediately, impatient and wanting, and I was so wet and ready for him that he sunk in without a problem on the first stroke, pushing a helpless groan out of the man immediately.
I hadnât even stopped moaning yet when Hoseok pulled back and thrust back in, overriding my senses with burning pleasure â it felt like my brain was buffering and short-circuiting under the never-ending overwhelming sensations. I finally felt so deliciously full, and it scratched something deep inside me, body catching up quickly and erupting into mindless ecstasy. After a few experimental strokes he set a speedy pace, desperately pumping his hips into me, jostling me on the table. If he wasnât gripping onto my thighs so tightly, Iâd probably find myself sliding up with the force of his lust, while the dark-haired man lost himself to my wet heat.
The moans spilled out of him freely, bronze sweaty body rippling with the movements and teasing some abs. When I managed to take control of myself and perceive anything through my own desperate staccato moans and gasps, I saw the manâs hazy gaze, unfocused eyes glazed over with ecstasy. It made my own lust mount immeasurably, building on my previous almost-there orgasm and throwing me headfirst into heady bliss. The scorching heat gathering deep in my core spilled over shocks of fire through my bloodstream, getting more intense with every stroke, with every time his tip bumped into the magic spot inside of me and made me shudder, so close to release I could almost taste it on my fucking tongue.
Tugging on my hands alerted me to Yoongiâs presence, the stagnant whip now moving again, teasingly making its way across my chest and tummy, here or there thumping down lightly to keep me on my toes. I heard his purred-out hums and rumbles at my eager reactions even through Hoseokâs groans and gasps, even through the wet slapping of skin on skin as he pumped into me wildly.
Just when I got used to the feeling of the leather travelling across my skin, Yoongi distributed four quick slaps, alternating between my nipples. The impact made me jerk in surprise before the delectable mix of pleasure and pain caught up to me and poured through my veins and nerves and I cried out on a moan. I felt my body spasm, cunt clenching and trapping Hoseokâs cock into the warm pulsating walls. A loud desperate moan cut through the room, the dark-haired manâs hips stuttered into me, and I felt his cock throb and twitch inside of me â and it drove me fucking insane with need, my hungry wet cunt attempting to suck him deeper and deeper in mindless lust that overrode all rhyme and reason.
His face spoke of inconceivable bliss, screwed into a grimace of a man on the brink of glory, red and sweaty with mouth hanging open, and breathing hard. He stilled for a moment, trying to catch his breath, his cock lodged inside of me begging for release. For few long seconds we exchanged exhausted but content smiles before Yoongi became tired of being ignored.
His whip suddenly smacked my tummy, making me clench again and in succession torturing Hoseok further as he tried to stave off his oncoming orgasm. Our breaths hitched at the same time, our gazes trained to the little black tool slowly sliding down to my cunt. It seemed that both of us had an inkling as to what Yoongi was planning â considering Hoseokâs wink and winning smirk towards his older friend while I was filled with dark anticipation, gaze glued to the sight of it rising right above my mound and coming down almost in slow-motion.
The first smack to my clit almost made me cum on the spot, all the accumulated pleasure bursting in a blinding jolt making my body contort. Hoseokâs hips jumped forward, answering the endless squeezing of my cunt with breathless moans. I thought I heard Yoongi chuckle, but I wasnât sure through the ringing in my ears.
And then everything disappeared, melted out of my head in a barrage of moans full of honeyed lust as he started slapping my clit, swiftly, in a way that made it sting but the outpouring of achey pleasure that made everything staticky and muffled was worth it thousand times. The continuous feeling of a nearing climax mounting in me was overwhelming me, sending my thighs into fits of tremors.
Hoseok started up his pace again â unable to deny himself any longer and fucking into me hard and quick, obviously chasing his high and helplessly losing to the tidal wave about to swallow him whole. As the stimulation of his cock drilling into me and barrelling into my g-spot returned, even through the fog in my mind I knew I was a goner. The wet squelch of my pussy seemed to intensify, signalling the oncoming beast of a climax too.
Yoongi also kept up his antics, periodically bringing the whip down straight onto my clit and making me jerk and cry pathetically under them (though Hoseok seemed pretty lost too). My hands were pulled over to his lap and in my plight I grabbed onto his thigh to gain at least some stable point. I felt his hand briefly squeeze mine in support, the tender touch calming my beating heart a bit. I screwed my eyes shut, head thrown back and body thrumming, just waiting for the final push.
But then Yoongi was back to his agenda, delivering few hard quick hits down onto my clit. My body tensed up, shaking and right on the brink of a powerful orgasm and head full of cotton and buzzing. Hoseok was also losing his mind, hips accelerating and balls drawing in tight, and I knew he was about to cum as well.
All it took was the sensation of Hoseok thrusting in hard a few more times before he burst, cock throbbing uncontrollably as he came with a piercing cacophony of high-pitched moans, and Yoongi smacking down one last time before my whole body locked, then everything exploded in me and I was suddenly cumming so hard I was surprised I didnât simply burst into pieces. Distantly I was aware that I was screaming out, but everything was muted through the humming and ringing in my ears, eyes rolled back into my skull rendering me blind. I jerked with the waves of pleasure, warmth pumping into me from all directions and pushing me deeper into a dark fog, pulling me under the endless billows of scorching honeyed nectar spreading through me.
It rocked me whole, thighs and hips shaking while Hoseok desperately grasped at me going through the shockwaves as well, still unwittingly pumping into me to ride out the wave. The added sting of overstimulation prolonged everything and made it sharper, making my toes curl with the mind-numbing pleasure.
When the high started ebbing away, I felt drugged, or on the verge of blackout drunk â eyes barely able to keep open, unseeing through the film over them, face wet with drool and tears. I didnât feel fully in my body, like I was floating above the table and saw the whole world through cotton candy.
Hoseok was saying something, but his words were slurred as well and I could barely hear anyway. He slumped over me, hips finally calm, and by the bonelessness of his form it could be judged that he went through similarly intense experience. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the amount of sweat that was pouring off of us, of our chests rising in tandem trying to catch our breaths and failing at it desperately.
There was some shuffling and then my arms were released, the tie binding them together gone â but they still immediately flopped down, no strength in them left. Someone pressed their face close to mine, ginger locks coming into my view but not fully connecting as I was still out of it, fighting off sleep.
But then Hoseok started moving, pulling away from me and out of my pussy, and I was jostled from the floaty space somewhere in between, slowly settling back into my bones and feeling the content ache still overriding all of my nerves.
The sound slowly came in and I realised that Yoongi was actually gently whispering praises into me, kissing softly along my neck and jawline while âsuch a good girlâ and âtook it so wellâ slipped out of his mouth on a murmur.
I moved my head just enough to see the dark-haired man collapse onto the carpet, half slumped into the leg of the sofa, grinning at me all doped out and still half naked with his pants undone. Yoongi quietly prowled over to the other side of the table, for the first time since we came here putting himself into my direct line of sight. And while his touch stayed respectful and soothing, his starving eyes ate up my messy wet swollen pussy like it was his last meal.
But then instead of touching me more he leaned over for some discarded clothing item, lightly dragging it down my thighs to clean up the juices that got all over me while Hoseok was fucking me. My eyes naturally slipped to the unmissable bulge tenting his black jeans (he must have taken off his hoodie somewhere during the session) and I couldnât hold back the whine, brain still not quite capable of putting my thoughts together in a civilised manner.
In that moment it was simply unconceivable to me that heâd be left without release, and in a split moment I stubbornly made up my mind that I needed to make him cum, right there right that instant. But the man was cleaning me up, that was simply terrible!
Another whine, this time more desperate and forlorn, finally tore Yoongi from his chore and he gave me a soft smile, worriedly looking at me to ascertain what was wrong.
âWhatâs up, baby? Whatâs wrong?â he asked gently, and I whined again, frustrated with myself that it took me such an effort to put together a simple sentence, but finally I managed to sweat it out.
âWanna make you cum,â I whimpered pathetically, and the man was split between smug smirks and kind smiles â obviously still horny out of his mind but thinking that he shouldnât push me.
âYouâre such a good girl angel, wanting to take care of me, but I can manage,â Yoongi tried to soften the rejection as much as possible, afraid I would take it badly while I was in a fragile state. But thankfully I was steadily regaining all of my abilities again, and I squirmed on the poor little table that went through all this with me.
âGreen,â I stated firmly, looking him in the eye, still somewhat dazed but much more present, âPlease fuck me too, Yoongi, please. Wanna feel you cum. Want you to use me as a toy.â The compassionate care-taking look immediately drained out of his eyes, and for the first time I was hit with the full force of his arousal. His dark blown-out pupils starvingly regarded me, hands now giving up on the cloth and instead slowly making their way to my stomach and waist.
âWell,â the ginger whispered sensually, âsince youâre begging so nicelyâŚâ My cunt clenched at those words, slowly coming back alive and contracting almost painfully in such feral anticipation it left me breathless. The prospect of having him buried inside of me hilt-deep was enough to almost make me drool again, and I spread my legs more to him.
Yoongiâs gaze was trained on my chest though, hands reverently kneading the skin on their way up until he grasped my tits, letting out a staggered sigh. But as soon as he got there he flinched away, pulling himself away to fling his shirt off, hands excitedly tearing at his pants and getting them off as quickly as was humanly possible.
âI swear to god I normally put more care into foreplay, but Iâm about to fucking explode,â Yoongi breathed out apological, snatching the condom Hoseok leaned over to give him and without wasting any time pulling it onto his throbbing red cock with a hiss of relief.
I only nodded, eyes too busy sliding over his naked torso and admiring his pretty tits and slim waist. He could probably stick it right in now and wouldnât meet a shadow of resistance, my cunt was so nicely slicked up and fucked out, so ready and hungry for him it was basically begging to get railed.
Still the man leaned over me as he shuffled closer, putting himself firmly between my thighs and pressing his length into my slit while be busied himself licking and mouthing over my tits. His body was curled over me nicely, damp skin pressed into damp skin and driving the temperature even higher, making me feel small and safe under him, and my hands grabbed onto him, desperately whining and pulling him closer.
With a soft groan he finally folded and reached between us, grabbing himself and guiding his cock into my awaiting cunt â and I was right â I was so wet I swallowed him all up and he slid all in on the first try. He was thicker than Hoseok (even though not as long) and hit all the right spots on the way in. I released a pleased little sigh, basking in the feeling of being full again, but the man was in considerably worse shape.
Unlike Hoseokâs unabashed high moans, Yoongi was full of gruff drawn-out groans and gasps while his hips jumped on their own, starting up a slow grind to curb the edge of the surmounting pleasure.
âFuck baby, this wonât last long at all,â the man giggled somewhat shyly, planting his face right into the crook of my neck to kiss there as he tried to prolong the experience for as long as possible. I released my own little breathless snicker, and that had Yoongi giving me a chastising look, raising an eyebrow at me in signal that he was still ready to put me in my place if I chose to brat out. I didnât, only gave him a blissed-out smile and rolled my hips with a sigh.
Yoongi only hummed, and I almost expected him to start up some smartass monologuing, but then he was thrusting forward, hard and deep, and it knocked all thoughts out of my mind. The ginger manâs style was completely different from the fucking I received before him â he started up with a slow but rough pace, focusing on jerking into me forcefully and sliding as far as my body would allow instead on quickness.
While Hoseokâs fucking was a chaotic hot mess of quick-paced rough sex that left me breathless, Yoongi plastered himself to me and went unhurriedly but on every heavy thrust imprinted himself deeper and deeper into my core and fully overwhelmed my senses. The ringing in my ears started up again, and I was already overheating with the gooey ball of fire forming in my belly. I felt dizzy and hazy, my little moans and sighs getting cut off midway with the power behind Yoongiâs hips.
He played me masterfully, gradually speeding up, at first not fast enough to have me notice but to have my nerves overloaded with a mounting surge of pleasure. Then he ended it all. With a smirk that I would have found insufferable in any other circumstance (or if I was more present and not losing my mind on a cock) his hand lazily dragged up my tummy, up my chest, teasingly squeezing a tit on the way, before it settled on my neck. Game over town.
I froze, tensing underneath the man, and then I melted, stretching my head away and offering up my neck all he wanted with a whimper and a whine. And with a chuckle he used it all to his advantage, dear god that he did.
âLetâs go back to our roots, princess,â he whispered meanly straight into my ear, naughty lips brushing the shell of my ear while his hand tightened a touch, âisnât this what you asked for those two weeks ago?â A barrage of moans spilled out of my slack mouth, my mind already burning with the anticipation of the tight hold of his beautiful strong hands.
Yoongi seemed to have pulled himself together a little for the purpose of teasing this out for a little longer, though both of us were already running full speed towards the finish line.
He straightened out, looming over me darkly with hungry eyes as his hand slowly tightened around my neck, lightly squeezing the sides to give me the rush of adrenaline. Any noise that would have barrelled out of my hoarse throat got cut off and I got light-headed fast, with all the sensations running through me with the flow of oxygen significantly lessened pushing me into an almost out of body experience.
The ginger man picked up his pace, delivering rough hard deep thrusts, eyes hazy and reflecting just how close he was to his own climax. I felt his dick throb and twitch as it rammed into my sweet spot, practically pushing both of us into the beginning stages of overstimulation because neither of us could hold on for much longer.
Hoseok still leisurely sat by us, leaning into the sofa and watching everything unfold half naked, underwear back on but pants still wide open and chest on full display. His eyes were darkened in interest, but he looked proper sated and only enjoying the show as a bystander. I noticed the dark-haired manâs eyes glued to the hand on my neck, eating up the desperate expression on my face and the flush spreading over me whole, like he was filing it all into his memory for a rainy day.
A quick slap to the side of my thigh brought my attention back to the man that was currently railing me into the next week, and he tsked at me with mocking mischievous eyes when he saw me flushing under him in embarrassment.
âPay attention to me princess,â he hissed breathlessly, âyou can ogle Hobi later.â That had his friend chuckling and he shuffled closer, settling in behind me. One of his hands slid softly into my hair only to grab roughly and pull my head back, adding the sting of pain to my already overloaded brain trying to keep up with the periodic tightening and loosening of Yoongiâs hand on my throat and the onslaught of pleasure from his cock. He kept my head in place as he leaned in close and started whispering sweetly into my ears.
All praises, good girl, doing so good, youâre perfect and more, all spilling from his beautiful lips like caramel candy and melting over me, sinking me deeper into staticky molases-like headspace.
âThatâs right, what a good girl,â Yoongi reiterated, mumbling the praises with a heavy tongue, he himself slipping into the cosmic pull of the promised high, âtake what you need, pretty girl, let go.â
And I did.
The build up of the orgasm creeped up on me â there was no monumental wave, no big crash, only slowly rising tide pulling me deeper and deeper without me realising how close I was to getting pulled under.
The constant stimuli of the Yoongiâs hips barrelling into mine, slapping into my clit and filling me so deliciously I wanted to scream and growl, my body wanted to twist under the pleasure but he kept me in place, not giving me any other choice but to lie still and take the endless cycle of lust and ecstasy, his hand squeezing my neck whenever he pleased, letting his presence known and pushing me into the table, forcing me back into the cotton candy hum as my oxygen deprived brain desperately fought to keep up.
I let it all wash over me, fully trying to feel all the sensations at once and getting hit with the flood of good good good oh god yes god yes please until I was screaming under them, body convulsing and cunt clenching on him one last time before I released all. The relief of the orgasm was immense and I went slack almost immediately while my thighs shook around Yoongi, the slick squelch of my pussy intensifying with every helpless pump.
Distantly I realised my own screams and moans while my body shook with the waves and aftershocks, until I went ragdoll on them and nothing but pure satisfaction and contentment flowed through me, mind completely scrambled.
Yoongi released his hold on me, instead hauling my legs over his shoulders and pressing my thighs to his abdomen, hips kicking up in pace. I twitched under him, pussy sore and sensitive but still willing to receive him in all his glory.
I heard the hitches in Yoongiâs breathing, both me and Hoseok watching him from below as he blindly chased after his climax knowing heâs so close it was palpable in the air.
Then a few rough pumps later the man suddenly pulled out, hand tearing the condom away and hurriedly jerking his red angry cock until he was twitching and spilling all over the back of my thighs. I felt his hot cum hit my heated skin and my cunt clenched so hard it was almost painful; at that moment I thanked god it wasnât enough to get me going again, because I didnât think I could handle another round.
Yoongi was still grunting and groaning breathlessly, one hand supporting him on the table while he attempted to catch his breath while Hoseok gently caressed my arms and hair to help me come down from everything.
I was too tired to think about anything, I just wanted to sink into their warmth and let them lull me to comfortable sleep. I let them manhandle me into a better position to be cleaned up, but I grumbled the whole time, already halfway unconscious and annoyed at being jostled from the soft floaty space somewhere above this plane of existence.
To their credit, they both tried their best to move me as slowly as possible, both softly cooing at me and giving out praises easily, but I ended up blinking the tiredness out of my eyes anyway and my brain cleared up. I still ate it all up and played up my grumbling to their great amusement.
Moments later I found myself wrapped in Yoongiâs black oversized hoodie, lying down on a comfortable soft blanket on the carpet with a pillow stuffed between my head and arm, while the men cuddled up to me from both sides. Something thin and cool was thrown over all of us, not exactly a blanket, but enough to give me the feel of not being completely exposed.
âYou should let your friends know youâre okay,â Yoongi whispered, Hoseok sleepily humming from my other side, and before I could complain whinily about not knowing where my phone is, he was pressing it into my clumsy uncoordinated hands. I mumbled my thanks and blinked through the sudden ray of light cutting straight into my eyes. Blindly I clicked on the chat and wrote something half passing as a reassurement.
Petty bitch: mission accomplished sleeping over
With that I was completely dead to the world â all snuggled up into a lightly snoring Hoseok while Yoongiâs hand tenderly caressed up and down my side, not even realising an immediate answer came through.
Pink nightmare: atta girl :*
âJesus fucking christ, I might have as well gotten run over by a truck,â were the first words tumbling out of my lips that morning when Hoseok shook me awake mumbling something about putting my clothes on.
Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, but at least the dark-haired man seemed to be similarly ruffled as he tried to stretch out groaning, face puffy and tired. He still giggled at my words though, and helped me stand up.
I did try to put my clothes on, but none of my limbs were cooperating and I ended up fumbling around like a newborn giraffe until Hoseok took pity on me and pulled my clothes on for me as I steadied myself on his shoulder. He was laughing at me the whole time, to which I replied by smacking him repeatedly while whining that this was all their fault.
As we stumbled back into the club area hand in hand, I finally got a glimpse of the ginger man, who was standing by the bar laughing around with a tired but still happy looking Tae. They seemed to be counting last nightâs profit and the ginger bastard looked completely fine, a total one eighty from the two of us making our way over in snailâs pace.
Tae saw us first and the smirk he gave us was so shit-eating even I was considering slapping it off his face (a sentiment which seemed to be returned by Hoseok whole-heartedly). Yoongiâs laugh joined into the fray, and we just stood there and listened to them be greatly amused by the state of us.
âHoly shit hyung! What the fuck did you do to them?â exclaimed the other barkeep, a small thin guy with a pretty face and cutesy vibe, who was cackling like the devil himself when Hoseok glared at him, one arm still pulled around me like we were leaning on each other to stand (we might have been, honestly I was still pretty much asleep).
âShut it Jimin-ah, I might still decide to keep the bonus to myself,â the man by my side threatened with no real heat behind it, and thus was promptly ignored by all three other occupants of the club while they entertained themselves by snickering at us.
Yoongi slowly walked over, face melting into something a little softer as he took us in, the slightest bit of worry worming onto his face. âYou both okay, right?â he whispered to us, one hand squeezing my arm and other squeezing Hoseokâs. I snickered right back at him, amused by how he was trying to not show his tender side.
âYeah, donât worry, just half asleep on my feet,â I replied loudly, earning some chuckles from the two young guys at the bar, but they did seem quite used to their hyungâs shenanigans.
He lightly squeezed my shoulder before letting go, more serious gaze sent towards his business partner and friend, which had Hoseok sobering up pretty quickly.
âIâm sorry princess, weâd love to have a breakfast, but unfortunately we have a meeting with a potential partner,â Yoongi explained apologetically, and Hoseok groaned next to me, crumbling into my shoulder and loudly fake crying.
âI completely forgot about that,â he whinily complained, arms snaking around my waist like I was his personal emotional support stuffed animal (well, I was stuffed just a few hours prior, sooâŚ), âIâll have to go shower and change home and itâs across the whole city.â Yoongi looked unimpressed and pulled him from my side, the man pouting and blinking at him in an attempt to garner sympathy.
âCome on Seok-ah, Kookieâs here to drive us and my place is closer,â the ginger man murmured, trying to placate him â and it worked. Whoever this Kookie was, Hoseok brightened right up at the mention of him and started happily skipping towards the exit.
There was some booing and disgruntled âyouâre never this happy about seeing me hyung!â screaming from behind the bar, but all fell on deaf ears as Yoongi started pulling me after the man and I barely even managed to shout my goodbyes.
âKookieâll get you home, pretty girl,â he promised with a tender smile, looking so kind and gentle it was almost a whiplash from the predatory smirk and sharp eyes from yesterday. Hoseok was already on the street hanging off of a laughing tattooed man.
His name was Jungkook I learnt, and he was pretty cool and obviously loved both men as his brothers, as the teasing and jokes flew between them the whole ride. Yoongi and Hoseok requested to be dropped off first, so I sat squeezed between them in the backseat while I bickered with Jungkook about the best drama currently running on TV.
Once out of car at the given address, both the men suddenly did seem quite in a hurry, but neither of them left without a hug, a kiss and some naughty words exchanged sneakily while their hands possessively grabbed at me unwilling to part.
âKeep the hoodie, princess,â Yoongi said finally, pulling Seok away and pointing at the clothing I forgot I was still wearing, âYou can return it to me next time.â They both winked at me and with that, they were gone â disappearing into a very nice high-rise building in a posh neighbourhood.
With a bit of shame and still blushing from their displays of affection I told Jungkook my own address and he took me there gladly, even though he was teasing me about his hyungs the whole time.
It was all over too soon â before I knew I was standing in front of my quite average building, waving off Jungkook as he drove off god knows where, feeling quite happy even if a little lonely after spending the night with the two men.
His promise of seeing me again kept me warm though, and I reached in my handbag to pull out my keys â only for a little piece of paper to fall out. I bent over and took a look at it before bursting out laughing.
Min Yoongi +82Â 145-5286-036, Jung Hoseok +82Â 634-1654-220
Those sly bastards.
divider from @saradika-graphics <3
#kpop fic#kpop smut#bts fic#bts smut#bts x reader#yoongi fic#yoongi smut#yoongi x reader#hoseok fic#hoseok smut#hoseok x reader#bts sope#bts poly au
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What animal do you think each of the Riddles are?
Most seem to think rat, fox, etc and I see it.. but the one I see them all being is a Raccoon. Think about it.. mask, hands, the ability to be sneaky and do crimes. But Iâd love to see your take! I do see that one bald edward (you posted a photo of kissing his bald head, I donât know what his universe is called apologies) being a vulture of some kind.
here's some Visions I was granted I think you'll enjoy
Zero Year is definitely giving Raccoon the most to me (aside from the TMNT Riddler that's - literally a raccoon). Mischievous, sneaky, and a little round even. And, since his mask it black, it looks the Most like a raccoon's eyes :]
Arkham Knight Opossum. DON'T call him a rodent, it'll lead to a half-hour rant about how he's a MARSUPIAL, not a rodent. "Actually, there's an 'O' at the beginning-". Gets irate when he has to explain opossum are actually extremely clean and don't carry rabies.
22 Weasel <33 While Ed does give powerful rat aura, it felt mildly evil to turn him into an animal he clearly has some level of fear of/hate for fgkds so I've made him a weasel. Mousy brown, weirdly vertical, and big wet eyes that Look at you.
BTAS kitty. I feel like you could to an entire version of this with different cat breeds, but BTAS gives me classic ginger tabby. A mischievous little tomcat who loves to chase his Batman.
2004 Greyhound. insane 2004 Riddler cameo but I was gifted this from a seraphim. He has real long features n just an overall pitiful demeanor. Plus hit little choker looks like the thick collars they have to special make for greyhounds because of their dumb bicycle heads
Sale Riddler Mouse. I rlly feel like this just makes sense, he's such an unserious little guy. Literally picked on like a cartoon mouse by Batman the entire time. He's not a rat!!! he is a Fancy Mouse <3
fox Carrey Riddler. I'll be real. HAven't watched Batman Forever. Jim Carrey frightens and perturbs me. But just based on the images of him barring his teeth at me like he's gonna bite, he Feels like a fox. Quit GRINNING at me like that.
One Bad Day <333 my beloathed <3333 I agree with you, vulture fits him so well. can't wait for Batman to snap his dumb neck
#Riddler#The Riddler#Edward Nigma#Edward Nygma#Edward Nashton#batman zero year#zero year riddler#arkham knight#arkham riddler#arkham knight riddler#batman#the batman#2022 riddler#dano riddler#paul dano riddler#paul dano#btas#btas riddler#2004 riddler#tim sale riddler#the long halloween#long halloween riddler#jim carrey#batman forever#carrey riddler#one bad day#one bad day riddler#obd riddler
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PRIDE OF THE SUN
SYNOPSIS: being a child of apollo was a great honor... until you have a vision about a certain ginger that flips your entire world on its head.
PAIRING: ares kid!tartaglia x apollo kid!fem!reader
warnings: blood, angst
wc: 5.9k
notes: if u couldn't tell, this is a percy jackson au... anyw this whole fic took me the entire day yesterday to write- like no joke i spent 12 hrs on this shit... NEVER AGAIN *looks at drafts* nvm i might have to do this again in the future... u guys will see why soon enough. wink wink.
You hated this. Hated him.Â
There you sat, on your ass on the hard ground with Ajaxâs spear pointed to your throat. You sneered up at him.Â
One wrong move and that spear would go straight through your neck. You glanced down at the sharp tip and the way it gleamed under the light of the afternoon sun. That only made it all the more menacing.Â
Truthfully, you were a bit scared he might finish the job and shove the spear right through you. He didnât⌠for obvious reasons.Â
But you swore you saw him move just a tiny bit closer. You swallowed the fear you harbored in your heart, ignoring the way the organ thumped impossibly fast against your ribcage. You would never show weakness in front of him. You would never let him know you were scared.Â
Revealing your weakness to him was like a rabbit leaping right into a wolfâs jaws.Â
You refused to be the rabbit.Â
As he was busy gloating over his victory, you sought an opening. With one swift kick, you knocked him down onto the ground. His spear struck your cheek, leaving a clean cut through the flesh. You barely felt it happen until a stinging rose from the area.Â
Touching your cheek, you frowned. Blood coated your fingers. Eh, youâd live. It was just a scratch.Â
You stood up and grabbed his spear, smirking at him as he looked up at you with a fire burning in his eyes. You loved beating down the Ares kids. They were nothing but arrogant bastards, and here you had the best one in camp on the ground with his own weapon pointed at his face.Â
âLooks like I win, brute.âÂ
Your little distasteful nickname for him made a scowl appear on his face as he slowly stood up and spit blood out of his mouth. He stared at you, brows furrowed and eyes devoid of any life. That was what you hated most about him: his ability to look so fucking terrifying when he wanted to. Or maybe it was without even trying.Â
He wiped the blood from his lip, the trail staining the side of his chin and his cheek. The earring that hung from his ear sparkled in the light of the sun, and you had the urge to ask where he had gotten it from. It certainly wasnât from his father⌠or was it?Â
You knew his double-edged spear came from his father, but you were skeptical on where he had gotten the earring. Did he even have that a few days ago?Â
The scary look on his face made you falter for just a second when you whisked yourself back to reality. His breathing was hard, his chest heaving as if he was angry. Suddenly, you felt small and weak under his gaze.Â
He wasnât called the strongest child of Ares for nothing.Â
âThat was a dirty trickâŚâ for a second, you thought he was serious, until, âI like your style, sunshine!âÂ
You scoffed, throwing his spear onto the ground and shoving past him. He quickly reached for it and scrambled after you, yapping in your ear all the way. You were beginning to get a headache from his voice.Â
This wasnât the first time he chased you around camp while you ignored him, and it definitely wasnât the first time you two fought. According to the other campers, you âhad a historyâ with each other. That made it sound as if you were once in a relationship, which couldnât be further from the truth.Â
Youâd never date someone like himâ someone so bloodthirsty for power and warfare that it drove them to the brink of insanity.Â
Okay⌠so maybe he wasnât insane (though, you firmly believed he was from that crazed look in his eyes) but he was certainly a warmonger.Â
Like father, like son.Â
It was true you had a history, but it wasnât in the relationship type of way. It was the âIâll kill you because you insulted me when we were kidsâ type of way.Â
When you first arrived at camp, you were eleven years old. Back then, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with anyone or anything. Your own mother casted you out of the house, calling you spawn of the devil for being a half-blood, even though you knew she gloated when it came to the fact that she had a child with a god. You never understood her hatred for you when all she did was brag to her friends about your father.Â
Out on the streets, with nowhere to go, you learned how to fend for yourself. With nothing on your person but the necklace your father had supposedly given your mother, you did what you could to survive. Your ballads and ugly crying garnered the attention of passerby, and with the little kindness they had in their hearts, they gave you money. You used that money for necessities, like food and water. But you also used it for things you wanted; like, that shiny guitar you saw in the downtown areaâs music store.Â
You saved up enough money to buy it within half a year, luring in passerby with your gift of song. Like a sirenâs call, you drew them in, and you quickly learned how to utilize your demigod abilities to get what you wanted. When you bought the guitar and strummed the first chords to a song your mother always absentmindedly sang, thatâs when your father appeared before you for the very first time.Â
And that was how you wound up in camp a few days later. You were guided to the Apollo cabin by your own father, who was way more flamboyant than you expected, and after that, you were left to settle in.Â
You watched your father disappear into a flurry of golden flames and a soft hum of a heavenly choir. When you turned to your bed, a drawing of a sun was etched into the fine wood of your guitar. Over time, there would grow to be more and more drawings left on your guitar, one for each time your father visited you.Â
Settling into camp was hard. You were shy, and quiet, and the other kids in your cabin were a bit too outgoing for your liking, a true testament to your fatherâs personality. At first, it seemed as if you were the black sheep among your siblings. That was quickly proven wrong when a boy who was a year younger than you showed up at your cabin one day, staring at you with a menacing fire burning in his eyes as you played your guitar.Â
You didnât notice him right away, as you were too lost in the music and the homey atmosphere of the cabin to even pay attention to what was going on around you. Thatâs what it was like for you with music: you lost all sense of the material world as you plucked at the strings of your guitar, mentally transporting yourself to a different plane of existence. This was how youâ most of the time, connected yourself with your father.Â
Unbeknownst to you, you were also plucking at Ajaxâs heartstrings. Ajax, the boy who was standing in the doorway, completely enraptured by your performance. His eyes lit up with an excitement no one had ever seen in him before. Then, he spoke, his words tumbling fast and loud out of his mouth like a roaring lion.Â
You jumped, and you were forcefully pulled out of your meditation. The more he rambled on, the more you grew annoyed. You put the pieces together. He was loud; boisterous, bellicose, arrogant, and every step he took made the earth rumble beneath his feet. There was a fire that burned brightly in his eyes, one that screamed âCome at me if you dare, Iâll show you what Iâm made of.âÂ
There was no doubt in your mind: he was a child of Ares.Â
Was every child of Ares this full of themselves? He even claimed he was better at the arts than you! How dare he!Â
That was the first time you cursed him to speak in rhyming couplets for a week straight. You didnât even know you could do that. When you asked your cabin leader about it, all they said was that you had a lot to learn about what it meant to be a child of Apollo.Â
And ever since that day, you swore youâd knock Ajax off of his high horse. And boy were you determined to do so.Â
There were quite a few things you could do that he couldnât, and one of them was wielding a bow.Â
You were the most skilled archer at camp. The first time you picked up a bow, you felt the wind rush past you and caress your form. You felt relaxed, at ease, as if youâve been wielding a bow your whole lifeâ as if you came out of the womb with it clutched tightly in your hands.Â
Wielding a bow was Ajaxâs weakness. It was the one weapon he could never master. You held it over his head like a vice.Â
All your insults never deterred his advances, and you found your hatred for him growing with each passing day. But you never once gave up trying to prove him wrong. You would prove to him that you were more than what his siblings called you: a siren. Youâd prove you were a worthy opponent, and that your skills were worth it in not only his eyes, but the entire campâs.Â
It was not just because you hated him, but because he utterly humiliated you on more occasions than you could count on both hands.Â
As soon as you managed to get out of his reach for today, you let out a sigh of relief and decided to take a nice, warm bath. It was very much needed after a long day of combat training.Â
You bid hello to your half siblings and made a beeline for the bath as soon as you set your bow down on your bed. When you sunk into the hot water of the bath, you felt as if you were ascending to the heavens. The water felt heavenly against your muscles that were previously screaming. Now, they ached as you gently massaged your calves. Your nose scrunched up from the soreness.Â
You were on your feet for almost the entire day. It was no wonder your feet felt a little numb from all of the exercise.Â
Leaning back against the tub, you allowed your whole body to breathe and relax. A knock sounded on the door, and your eye twitched. Just when you thought you had some alone timeâŚ
The voice of your half brother, Kaeya, sounded from the other side of the door.Â
âHey, sis, you in there? I heard thereâs gonna be fireworks tomorrow to celebrate Dilucâs return.â
Diluc was Kaeyaâs adoptive brother and a son of Athena. They werenât on the best terms, but they still considered each other brothers. At least, thatâs what you assumed. Theyâd probably drop dead before ever admitting it out loud.Â
Regardless of how well they got along, you were also dragged into their little family. Kaeya was a few months older than you, and although that wasnât much of an age gap, he still liked to call you his little sister.Â
The first time he introduced you to Diluc, you were scared out of your mind. Diluc was intimidating and he towered over you. It took quite a while for you to be able to talk to him without being terrified of him. Once you saw how much of a big softie he was, the fear was quickly replaced with admiration.Â
You admired how strong he was and how much he cared for his family.
You jumped up at Kaeyaâs words. âWhat!? Thatâs tomorrow?âÂ
You heard him chuckle. âYes, dummy. His pet arrived today with news of his homecoming, so Jean decided to hold a party. Thereâll be fireworks!âÂ
Your love of fireworks was well known throughout camp. Although you werenât a fan of loud noises, you had a deep love for fireworks and their ability to light up the night sky with their beauty.Â
You wished you could shine as bright as they did. They shone like the sun, and you were a lover of the sun.Â
Scrambling out of the tub and leaving your warm bath behind, you dried yourself off and threw on a new pair of clothes before exiting the bathroom. Kaeya stood outside, a knowing smirk on his face. Suddenly, you had a bad feeling about going to that party.Â
Kaeya and that look was never a good omen. It always led to something bad.Â
âWhatâs with the face?â He asked, following you to your bed. His was right below yours.Â
âWhat face?âÂ
He crossed his arms over his chest. âThat one. The one youâre making right now.âÂ
âYou have something hidden up your sleeve, donât you?â You squinted. âWhatever it is, I want no part of it!âÂ
He only snickered, which did nothing to help your suspicions. He climbed onto your bed, ignoring your protests to get off. You threw one of your stuffed animals in his face.Â
âGet away from me!â You laughed, attempting to fend him off but it was no use.Â
âI just want a hug from my baby sister!âÂ
You kicked him in the ribs, causing him to double over in pain. He slapped your foot, resulting in a loud âOWâ from you.Â
The next day was the day Diluc was coming home. You asked Jean if you could help prepare, but upon seeing how much she already had done, you realized that she probably didnât even need your help. Or anyoneâs, with the way she was yelling at people to let her do all the work.Â
âSo, your brotherâs coming back today, huh?âÂ
You sighed heavily. Of course, Ajax was here to bother you yet again. When would you ever be able to catch a break?Â
âYes,â you replied curtly.Â
He frowned at your cold response. It wasnât too out of the ordinary for you, but just once he wished youâd talk to him like you talked to your friends.Â
He tried again. âI never asked how the two of you are related. Or do the two of you just refer to yourselves as siblings because youâre close?âÂ
âItâs none of your business.â
A sigh left your lips, and you grabbed your bow from beside you. Instead of answering his question, you walked off to go practice shooting. Ajax stared after you longingly, the pout on his lips resembling that of a kicked puppy.Â
He wouldnât give up in his pursuit.Â
You couldnât count how many arrows you ripped through targets in the last hour, but you sure were more aggravated today than you were the day before. Ajax continued to push your buttons, and you were running out of ways to calm yourself down each time.Â
Meditation with music no longer worked unless you were completely alone, and now you couldnât even focus entirely on the targets without thinking of his annoying face. One thing that helped was imagining the target was him and that your fire arrows were ripping right through his head.Â
Kaeya asked you about your hatred for him once, and to his question, you replied, âAll he ever does is humiliate me. All he does is shove his skills in my face and boast when I canât do things that he can. I feel powerless when Iâm standing next to him.â
You pulled your arm back again, ready to fire another arrow, when suddenly your vision went white. Not now! You thought, cursing out your own precognition as you watched future events play out.Â
You assumed it would be the same old, same old of someone getting hurt and needing to be healed by one of your siblings, or a mellow talk between you and Kaeya, but it was nothing of the sort. You even assumed it would be a vision of Diluc returning home, or something that would happen at the party tonight, but it was neither. It wasnât anything dangerous, either.Â
Instead, what you saw was Ajax sitting down in front of you on the training grounds. It was dark outside, and the only light sources came from the lanterns hanging in the trees. You were staring up at him with the same scowl you always gave him, but the smile he always wore was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a frown, and in his eyes, the fire that always made itself home there has completely fizzled out.Â
He reached a hand out to you, the side of his face dripping with crimson red blood. He looked about ready to pass out right then and there. Hesitantly, you took hold of his hand. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your form.Â
You weakly fought against his hold, grabbing onto his shirt tightly. Instead of pushing him away like you thought youâd do, you pulled him closer, until your lips were mere inches apart. He muttered something then, something that was indecipherable to you.Â
After that, you looked into his eyes with a look you never thought youâd give anyone. Then, his lips met yours, and the vision faded into nothing. You gasped for air, clutching tightly to your chest as a figure in front of you held you by the shoulders. Their voice was frantic, distorted, as the ringing in your ears blocked out everything.Â
When your vision cleared, you looked up, expecting to see the comfort of Kaeyaâs periwinkle colored fluffy jacket, only to see the red of a certain someoneâs scarf. The ringing stopped, and you were finally able to hear the voice you loathed.Â
âAre you okay, sunshine!?â He asked, his eyes filled with worry. âI found you on the ground and you werenât responding, so I called Chiron. Heâll be here sooââÂ
You shoved him away from you. âJust stop!â You yelled, overwhelmed from the vision you just witnessed. Your body felt warm and sweat trickled down the back of your neck. You were shaking uncontrollably.Â
He frowned. âI was just trying to help! You lookedââÂ
âI donât need your help!â you retorted, your chest heaving as you finally let all your anger loose. âI never have and I never will! Why would I ever need help from the likes of you, anyway? All you do is belittle me!âÂ
His brows furrowed. âWhat? No, I never meant toââÂ
âJust go away!â You shoved past him, leaving your broken bow on the ground.Â
Diluc was happy to be back, but as he scanned the crowd of people at the party, he couldnât find you anywhere. He couldâve sworn Kaeya said you were here.Â
He tossed a glare in his brotherâs direction, only to see Kaeya just as disappointed at your absence as he was. That was when Mona, one of your half siblings, approached them with a panicked expression on her face. She was breathless from running, and judging by her urgency, there was something wrong.Â
Kaeya, already having a feeling it was something to do with you, stepped forward. âWhat happened?âÂ
âItâs (Name)!â Mona panted, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow before continuing. âShe had a vision. Ajax said he found her passed out on the ground after leaving the target area. Sheâs in the infirmary nowââÂ
Kaeya pushed her aside, setting off into a sprint towards the infirmary. Without a second thought, Diluc followed, leaving the party behind.Â
When you came to, you were in the infirmary. You didnât know how you got here, but all you could remember was the vision you had hours prior. Your head was poundingâ a side effect of precognition, and your whole body felt hot. Did you have a fever?Â
You sat up, wincing as the sunlight filtering through the curtains hit you right in the face. It did nothing but add to your awful migraine. Where were you? You took a look around, your vision a little blurry from just waking up.Â
âWell good morning, sleepy head,â a smooth voice said, placing a hand to your forehead, âI was starting to get a little worried you wouldnât wake up!âÂ
As soon as your vision cleared, you saw none other than your father sitting next to you, a wide smile on his face as he stared down at you. He retracted his hand and placed it in his lap.Â
âDad!? What are you doing here?â You questioned, your voice hoarse.Â
You reached for the cup of water on the table next to the infirmary bed. You gulped it all down in seconds flat and let out a sigh of relief.Â
Apollo crossed one leg over the other and placed his chin in his palm. âWhy do you think Iâm here, sunshine?âÂ
That nicknameâ that dreadful nickname. You used to like when he called you that, but not after Ajax started using it too. It sounded like he was mocking you whenever he addressed you as such.Â
âI donât wanna talk about it,â you threw the blanket over your head and curled into a ball, âso go back to Olympus, or whatever.âÂ
Your father chuckled. âYou have to tell me everything you saw, sunshine. Otherwise, I wonât leave. And I think we both know that I am a very patient man.âÂ
A tense silence passed. You could still feel his presence in the room even though it was completely silent, devoid of a sound. For a few minutes, you were silent, biting your lip out of nervousness. Â
Truthfully, you were embarrassed to tell him what you saw. It wasnât something you wanted to share with your father of all people. And knowing him, heâd tease you to hell and back for it. You wouldnât say anything, you decided.Â
âFine. If youâre going to be stubborn like that boyfriend of yours, then why donât I tell him what you saw?âÂ
You jumped up, a terrified look in your eyes as your father laughed raucously. You glared at him. He was so vexing sometimes. You never understood a thing he said or did. Then again, you never understood a single thing any of the gods did. You probably never would.Â
With a heavy sigh, you sat against the wall and explained your vision to him, avoiding his gaze the entire time. It was embarrassing enough you had to tell him, but it wouldâve been worse if you were looking at him when you did so.Â
After you finished, he hummed thoughtfully. âI see,â he muttered, âwell, if I had to guess, my dear beloved daughter has a crush on this child of Ares.âÂ
âI do not! And I never will!â You immediately sputtered, feeling your cheeks heat up.Â
He snickered. âI think you do. After all, that vision spoke for itself.âÂ
You shook your head, adamant that you didnât harbor any sort of feelings for the ginger you claimed to hate all these years. There was no way you liked that crazed, warmongering lunatic. Your father was off his rocker. Officially.Â
âItâs false. Thereâs no way I like that wackjob.â You crossed your arms over your chest. âAll he does is fight people. He never stops. Itâs so annoying. And donât get me started on the way he smiles when he gets hurt, like he enjoys it! Who in their right mind is happy when theyâre practically bleeding out!?âÂ
Your rambling took your father by surprise, but he was amused nonetheless. This was the first time you got so riled up like this, and all because of a boy. He couldnât help but find teenage love so, so amusingâ especially when you were the one experiencing it.Â
âI think someone has a crush!â He said again, only for it to be shot down by you once again.Â
âAs if! Iâd rather take a swan dive into the bottomless pit where Kronos resides than fall for that warmongering brute!âÂ
He sighed. âThe prophecy always comes true, sunshine.âÂ
You shook your head. âNot this time.âÂ
Apollo stood up, placing his sunglasses back over his eyes before handing you something. He ruffled your hair. âYou canât escape fate, my dear. I think youâll be in for a rude awakening.âÂ
With that, he disappeared into a flurry of golden flames, leaving you alone in the infirmary. On your lap sat a golden lyre, another gift that you would add to your collection of instruments and weapons. This one seemed particularly special, though you couldnât place your finger on why. But your fatherâs words echoed in your head, even weeks after his visit.Â
You avoided Ajax like the plague, ignoring him on most occasions, and making sure you didnât have to interact with him on others. Until one night, you found yourself training with Kaeya. You excelled with bows, but you were also a swordmaster. Reestablishing a firm grip on your sun blade (gifted to you by your father), you swung your sword at your brother once more, clicking your tongue when you just barely grazed his arm.Â
Your swords clashed, and with one final push, you knocked him onto his ass. His sword flung out of his hands, landing somewhere in the distance. You let out a small laugh, standing over him with your hand outstretched. He took it without a second thought, and you pulled him to his feet.Â
âYouâve gotten stronger,â he told you, pride evident in his voice, âhow much have you been practicing on your own?âÂ
âA hell of a lot,â you answered, giving him a lopsided smile, âJeanâs been sparring with me. Sheâs a formidable foe.âÂ
Kaeya laughed, retrieving his sword. âIndeed, she is. Though, itâs rare for you to take her on. Have you been missing your usual victim?â Of course he threw in a tease. He always did.Â
You sighed. âIâll admit itâs been a bit boring.âÂ
He raised a brow. âThatâs it?âÂ
âWhat do you mean? What else am I supposed to say? You know I hate his guts.âÂ
He shrugged, though you knew he was hiding something. âI just thought, after your talk with father, you had a change of heart.âÂ
Your heart dropped to your stomach and you froze. âDad talked to you?âÂ
âBriefly. He told me about your vision. I must say, that vision sure is revealing the desires hidden in your heartââÂ
âDad told you!?â You screeched, fear bubbling up inside of you.Â
If your father told Kaeya, there was a chance he mightâve spilled the beans to Ajax as well. You didnât know how you could ever face him again. If he knew, youâd have to launch yourself into the nearest pit of vipers and hope you never come back out alive.Â
Your prideâ and your dignity, were ruined.Â
Kaeya patted your head. âNot the specifics,â he reassured, âjust that it included a certain someone. And no, before you ask, he didnât say anything to said individual. He only told me⌠and maybe Diluc.âÂ
You groaned before you let out a whine. The next time you saw your father, you were going to kill him. Well, youâd try to.Â
âI better get back to the cabin,â Kaeya sighed, âIâd like to shower before bed. You coming back with me?âÂ
He hoped youâd say no, but only because he had a little plan hidden up his sleeve.Â
You shook your head, much to his relief. âIâm gonna stay out here a bit longer. I wanna practice with more dummies.âÂ
He smiled at you, genuinely this time, and pulled you into a tight hug. âAlright. Just donât wear yourself out. If you arenât back in an hour, Iâll come and drag you back to the cabin myself.âÂ
You laughed and pushed him away from you playfully. âYes, mom.âÂ
He laughed softly in return, messing up your hair again as you protested and swatted his hand away, before he set off back to the cabins.Â
Your smile slowly faded as he got farther away, and you looked down at your sun blade. In the darkness, it looked like just any old scrap of metal, but in the sunlight, it glowed a magnificent gold. It was a sword many children of Apollo had used before you. Thatâs what your father told you when he had given it to you.Â
Only the best warriors born from your father were given this sword. And upon their death, it would stop glowing and your father would take it back into his possession before giving it to the next child. When the sword was given to a new owner after the former ownerâs death, it would glow brightly again, filled with the life force of whoever wielded it.Â
You gripped the sword tightly in your hands. You could feel a small thrum run through your fingers. That was the sword. It was talking to you, bonding with your life force. Although it lost many wielders in its life, the sword always glowed again. Just like the sun, it always came back.Â
The sound of footsteps drew you out of your stupor, and you saw the figure of your arch nemesis approaching you. You let out a sigh. What did he want? And at this time of night, too.Â
He raised his spear wordlessly. A small, almost invisible smile pulled at his lips. He wanted a fight⌠again. But this time felt different, as if he had come to some sort of realization. It wouldnât hurt to allow him this one fight, especially when he wasnât opening his mouth.Â
So, you raised your sword and positioned yourself into a fighting stance. A few seconds passed. The air was silent. Then, in a flash, the two of you dashed forward. The sound of clashing metal was loud in your ears, but you were focusedâ more focused and attuned to your opponentâs attacks than youâve ever been.Â
He grazed your arm, you hissed. You slashed his side, he let out a small sound of pain. Back and forth you went, minimally hurting each other and side-stepping and clashing. Finally, you let out a frustrated yell and swung your sword. You didnât care where it landed, as long as you beat him at his own game.Â
It happened too fast for you to notice. One moment, you were filled to the brim with adrenaline, and the next, you watched as he collapsed onto the ground, holding the side of his head. It all happened so fastâŚÂ
You panted breathlessly, your chest heaving as you stared at him in complete and utter shock. The adrenaline was wearing off, and you could finally move your body. You rushed forward, throwing your sword to the ground to kneel beside him, pulling his hand away from the deep gash on the side of his face.
Did you do that?Â
âLet me see.â You said worriedly. You were experienced with wounds, as most of your siblings were healers.Â
Before you could get a closer look, he knocked you back. The wind got knocked out of your lungs, and you could feel your head throbbing. You raised a shaky hand to your head and slowly sat up, groaning at the pain.Â
Ajax stood in front of you, his face devoid of the smile he always wore, and the side of his head covered in crimson blood. Your vision cleared, and when you looked up, your eyes widened. You knew how the next events played out, you saw them for yourself. You gulped, your shock turning into anger as you glared at him.Â
âI win.â He said flatly.Â
You huffed, looking away from him. He knelt down in front of you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You wouldnât let this play out like it did in your vision.Â
You wouldnât.Â
âThere. Weâre even,â Ajax muttered, âYou pulled a dirty trick on me. I returned the favor.âÂ
You shoved him away, though he barely budged. âThatâs just like you. Selfish, prideful. You always have to have the last say, the last laugh.â You spat.Â
Ajax was quiet for a moment, studying you. You began to feel anxious under his scrutinizing gaze. You fiddled with the grass beneath your fingers.Â
He held his hand out, and you stared at it. The fire in his eyes was gone, and he looked just about ready to pass out, but you could tell that he was fighting off the urge to close his eyes. You had the chance to get up and leave. You didnât have to take his hand.Â
Yet, you found yourself drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame. And so, you grabbed his hand. He held tightly onto yours, pulling you closer to him and wrapping his other arm around the small of your back. You still had the chance to push him away. To let him pass out here on the grass.Â
But you couldnât. You couldnât move a single muscle. You gripped tightly to his shirt as he pulled you closer. Your brows furrowed as he opened his mouth.Â
âSunshine, I.. Iâm sorry.âÂ
You certainly werenât expecting that. âFor what?âÂ
âFor making you feel weak. Your brother told meâŚâÂ
You were 100% going to punch Kaeya in the face when you got back.Â
âYouâre not weak,â he told you, his voice firm, âI donât have weak opponents. I have strong ones. Ones who I want to test my strength against because I know theyâre gonna send me packing, but I still come back anyways. Because the only way I can get stronger is if I fight those who are stronger than me.âÂ
âI donât need yourââÂ
âWould you just shut up and listen for once!?â He snapped, holding you tighter.Â
That made you shut up instantly.Â
He sighed heavily. âIâm not pitying you. Iâm being sincere. I only ever fight against you because youâre strong, and I want to learn from you. My master taught me that every battle is worth it, that every person I fight is someone I can learn from. Youâre one of those people. So shut up and realize your own strength. Your own worth.âÂ
You stared at him with wonder in your eyes. He held your gaze.Â
âYouâre the pride of Apolloâs children. Even your father has recognized your strength. Please, just see it yourself. See yourself the way I do.âÂ
âIâŚâ You couldnât say anything. You didnât know how to respond, so you did the only way you knew how.Â
You pulled him closer, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss. His lips were chapped, and you could taste the metal of the blood from the cut on his upper lip. His kisses were messy but gentle, as if you were fragile and he was handling you with the utmost care.Â
When you pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours. A smile erupted onto his face, so dazzling you felt as if Cupid had struck an arrow through your heart at that very moment. He let out a content sigh.Â
âDo you see now?âÂ
âI donât knowâŚâ you trailed off, âmaybe if you kiss me again, I will.âÂ
He chuckled, his warm breath hitting your face. You smiled, caressing his face with your thumb. âAnd I thought I was slick.âÂ
You hugged him tightly, scared of letting him go now that you had him in your embrace.Â
â(Name)... I feel dizzyâŚâÂ
âOh shit!âÂ
You spent that night in the infirmary, nursing his wounds.
Š 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin childe#childe genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#childe x reader#childe#childe x you#childe x y/n#genshin tartaglia#tartaglia#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia x you#tartaglia x y/n#âstellaronhvnters.#nereids' realm
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SHADOWS
My ex-boyfriend James is sooooo fucking weak and pathetic. I hate and despise him with every part of my soul. He is everything that is wrong with men these days. Indecisive, overly sensitive, small and pathetic. What a fucking loser.
His twin brother Jason by comparison is a God. He is the man I now desire. Once I despised and hated Jason, but now he is everything I seek in a man. Tall, strong, rich, dominant... he makes me so fucking wet. My new boyfriend is a total Alpha. The longer I stay around him the more feminine I feel. I love what he does to me.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain how this all started...
Once I was the nerdiest girl at school. It seems insane to say it now, given how popular I am, but there was a time when I couldn't name six fashion designers or contour my makeup or suck off three boys at once in the cheerleaders locker room. I was a fucking loser.
Terrible skin, flat chested, nerdy glasses and goofy teeth. No. I was once plain little Melanie. I even had ginger hair. No wonder everyone bullied me. Popular rich bitch Madison didn't even exist. I was a fucking nobody.
My life consisted of science fairs, anime and role-playing games. Not the fun role playing games where you dress as a sexy school girl and get railed by a hot guy... no... the loser ones where you pretend to be an elf.
To my shame I was even into LARPIng. Live action role play. Each Friday night, me, James, Jason and our other buddies would go into the local woods to play.
We would run around the woods pretending to be on adventures. Fuckkkk it was so pathetic, I feel a major ick just thinking about it.
Jason wasn't the God he would later become at this point. He and James basically looked the same. I don't know why I had chosen James as my boyfriend. I guess he was slightly more confident and had asked me out first. He and Jason basically looked and acted the same though. Many people couldn't even tell them apart. Even me sometimes.
Then Jason found the shadow and everything changed.
As part of our role playing experience we sometimes brought props along and Jason had found this creepy looking glass bottle in a charity shop. It was opaque and stoppered with a wax cork. Perhaps it held a liquid of some kind? Sometimes it looked like there was something dark swirling inside, but it was kind of hard to tell.
We needed a prop to represent an evil demon that was trapped in a bottle so Jason had brought out the bottle.
As usual the group had split up. It was dark now and I was on my own. I had on my favourite druid costume (ughhh so fucking fugly) and I was creeping through the woods under the moonlight.
Suddenly I saw Jason through a gap in the trees. He was on his own too and carrying the bottle. I headed towards him, he hadn't seen me... in fact he wasn't really paying proper attention to his surroundings, which is maybe why he suddenly tripped over a tree root.
The bottle span from his hands and smashed against the ground with a musical tinkle.
I had a perfect view of everything. Jason was lit by the moonlight, his scrawny body shivering and his eyes wide with fear as a rolling mass of black shadows erupted from the smashed bottle and flowed towards him.
I wanted to scream but my voice had left me and I could only put my hands to my mouth like a parody of some dumb anime girl as the shadows flowed into Jason. Black smoke forced its way down his throat, into his nose. It wrapped and enveloped him, melting and merging into his body.
Then it was gone.
But the scene was not over.
Jason let out a cry, or maybe it was a moan. I watched in horrified fascination (and now I'm happy to admit a little bit or arousal) as I watched him change. Jason... my God... was being born.
Muscles rippled and swelled under his skin, causing his shirt to rip and his fantasy style breeches to bulge. He tore his top off to reveal a rippling six back and toned muscles as his skin flowed like wax and he changed and transformed. He grew taller and bigger, more handsome too as his face became more masculine and his hair cut more stylish.
Grunting and grinning Jason ripped off his pathetic role playing costume and stretched confidently. He was entirely naked now and I gasped in arousal as I saw his magnificent ass and his perfect cock. As I watched it was growing. Ten inches of thick white meat now hung between his huge thighs and I almost salivated as I beheld his perfect manly body.
Jason confidently stretched his body, clearly enjoying how it felt. He grinned perfect white teeth and his eyes, once mild and nerdy shone with ambition and dark desire. He clicked his fingers and there was a wisp of smoke as a stylish black shirt and designer jeans encased his new perfect body. He now looked like a male super model and he strode off through the woods chuckling, leaving me breathing heavily and wondering if I was losing my mind.
***
I ran through the woods. Back then I was ungainly and lacking athletic ability. Whereas now I hit the gym daily and can bend into nearly any position (especially when fucking) I was a fucking loser, so I made quite the noise as I crashed through the trees.
James and the others soon found me and I garbled what I'd seen, but they all thought I was still role playing.
"Babe, it's a cool story, but one detail that doesn't work. My stuck up bullying brother doesn't play with us. He thinks we're losers."
I gawped at James. I thought he was joking at first, but as we spoke it became clear he was serious. The shadow had changed Jason, but it also seemed to have changed everyone's memories of him.
I had no idea why I hadn't been affected. perhaps because I had witnessed his transformation directly or something.
James and the others couldn't understand why I was so upset and worried. The shadow had looked evil and I was worried my boyfriends brother was now under the control of something wicked. I decided I'd have to confront Jason directly and see if I could aid him, so I told the others I felt sick and left to go immediately to James and Jason's house.
James started after me, but I quickly lost him in the woods. I didn't want him to see what had happened to his brother. I was sure I could find a way to save Jason.
Haha, what a fucking idealistic moron I used to be.
***
I arrived at Jason's to find the house had changed. There was now a pickup parked at the front and the house was larger and clearly more expensive. Entering the house I found it was better decorated and I nearly had a heart attack as I entered the kitchen to find Jame's Mom and Dad.
Michael, the Dad was now a handsome looking business man wearing an expensive suit. Linda, James Mom had transformed from a homesy kind Mom into a haughty and beautiful MILF. She looked stunning!
Neither of them paid me much attention, they clearly recognised me as James girlfriend. The sneer and look of disgust Linda gave me left me cold. I can't blame her. Linda is now a major icon to me and we are the BEST of friends. She loves me like a daughter and I've learned so much about manipulating and using men from her. But back then I was a dork dating her loser son James.
But that was soon about to change.
I found Jason in a room I'd never seen before. A personal gym.
He was stripped to the waist, his muscles rippling as he pumped iron. He turned and grinned at me as I entered.
"Well well well. My brothers dork girlfriend? What the hell do you want Melanie?"
"I saw everything Jason. I saw that weird shadow enter you. We have to get it out of you. What have you done to your Mom and Dad? This isn't right."
Jason grinned. "Ahhhh. So you saw it? So you remember the old me? Haha you have no idea Melanie. No idea how good this feels. The shadow within me hungers for power and pleasure. It serves no other purpose but to give me what I want. It can change things, people too. Anything that falls under my shadow can be twisted to serve my whim. I am a fucking God now."
I watched nervously as black shadows seemed to spread around Jason as he spoke. The air rippled with potential and a cold numb feeling spread through my body and my soul. Jason grinned as the light seemed to be sucked out of the room and I was drowning in darkness.
"You could be so much more Melanie. You're such a fucking dork, just like my pathetic brother. I always wanted you to be MY girlfriend and now I have this power you can join me. I won't force you, I want you to join me willingly. A taste of this power and I think you'll want more."
I gasped falling to my knees as the shadows surrounded me. All the warmth and kindness and love inside me was suddenly numbed. It was like the shadow was feeding on my positive emotions... perhaps it was.
The dark shadows enveloped and wrapped my nerdy body. Tempting whispers invaded my mind and I felt Jason's presence beating down on me and willing me to give in. The shadow wanted to change and corrupt me, but it would only do so if I wanted it to. Jason hadn't lied.
I don't know if you've ever been offered something so fucking delicious and perfect that even if it came at the cost of your soul you'd jump at the chance... but when that moment finally arrives, it's pretty hard not to succumb.
I'd seen what the shadow had done to Jason. It had turned him into the perfect example of masculine perfection. It could probably do the same for me, but make me the ultimate girl. All I had to do was let it in and surrender to the darkness.
I'd seen girls in magazines, on TV, on teenage drama programs. I'd always wondered how it would feel to be a Queen Bee... a head cheerleader type. What must it be like to be so pretty you can get whatever you want? How would it feel to be a bitch?
"Yes... change me," I groaned. "But only a little... I just want to be a little prettier."
I gasped as my body suddenly ached and I felt the shadows begin to change me. I ripped my dorky glasses off and felt my brace snap as I spat out the metal to leave perfect white teeth. My red hair turned a sexy black and my pale spotty skin tanned as my body toned.
It felt so fucking good.
"Don't you want more Melanie? Don't you want to become a real fucking bitch? If it feels this good to go a little of the way, why not let the shadows take you all the way?"
Jason had a point. The more I transformed the more I wanted to transform. As I felt myself become more popular and beautiful, the further I found I wanted to go.
"Yessss mmmmore," I gasped feeling the shadows pour down my throat and into my body. I could feel Jason in my mind now, his fingers manipulating my pleasure receptors and his thoughts becoming my own.
"That's right Melanie. You don't want to be a dweeb anymore. You want to go all the way. You want to be a fucking bitch. Say it."
I shuddered as delicious throbs of pleasure pulsed through my body. "I... mmmmmh, ohhh yes, I want to be a bitch."
"That's right Melanie. Let's picture a girl. Let's call her Madison. She's everything you want to be isn't she? Thin, pretty, bratty and spoiled. She's the kind of girl that has a new outfit every day, that all the other girls bow down to. I want you imagine how hot she looks. Nice tits, a toned body, ultra-feminine body language. So different to the dork you are. Are you picturing her?"
I was picturing her. I was thinking of every mean bad girl and bitch I had ever know in real life or in the movies. I was picturing Madison and boy was she fucking hot.
"Now say it. Say you want to be Madison. You want to be the bullying popular Alpha girl."
My pussy was wet, my already partially transformed body felt so good. I needed more... I needed the shadows to corrupt me completely.
"Yessss I want to be Madison."
I screamed and orgasmed as I said it, feeling the shadows flowing into me and destroying Melanie forever. All the kind gentle nice parts of me were consumed and the shadows pumped me full of evil, mean bratty thoughts.
Melanie died in that instant and I... Madison... took control.
Long bitchy nails shot out from my fingers. My face became meaner and even prettier, soft pouty lips curving into a bratty grin. My clothing became designer, my handbag expensive and my personality became that of a spoiled rich bitch.
Reality rippled and changed. Only Jason and I would remember the old me. It was as if Melanie had never existed and only I had been born.
The shadows withdrew, but they left their mark. I was a fucking evil bitch now, devoid of mercy. I only cared about myself... oh and Jason of course.
"How do you feel baby?" he grinned, towering over me in his Adonis body.
"I feel amazing baby," I grinned. "In fact I want to thank you for being the best boyfriend ever."
I giggled and sank eagerly to my knees. My long nails looked so hawt as I unzipped Jason's fly and his huge ten inch dick flopped out.
Moaning I began to pump and suck his cock. This was who and what I worshipped now. Jason had taken me from that loser James.
"Yesssss, good girl," grunted Jason as he put his hands gently on my head and pushed me deeper onto his cock. "You're my slutty bitch now and I have everything I ever wanted."
I just gagged and gargled happily, I fucking loved my man's big cock.
I couldn't wait for him to cum. I needed to taste it...
***
And so that is how I ascended from being a fucking pathetic loser into a Goddess myself. Jason is the Master of the Shadow and so long as he holds that power I am his willing accomplice.
Soon after the transformation James came home. He no longer remembered I had ever been his girl, but that didn't stop me and Jason fucking loudly next door and laughing about the little simp jerking off in his room next door.
I felt so evil and perfect. Being Madison was like a perpetual state of orgasm. The meaner and nastier I was, the better it all felt.
Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if James had smashed that bottle instead of Jason? Perhaps he would be the Alpha stud with the delicious bitchy girlfriend.
But it was just idle speculation. The shadows answered to Jason...
And I answered only to the shadows now.
THE END
#evie hyde#bitchification#f2f transformation#corruption#evil bitch#m2m transformation#shadows#betrayal#mean#bratty
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Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Thirteen
A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic
Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and youâre desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bobâs wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child?Â
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!ReaderÂ
Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst
Chapter summary: Ducky goes on a date; Jake and Ducky come to an understanding, before everything becomes complicated again
WC: 2.4K
Masterlist here; previous chapter here
It happened when you least expected it. You were at the grocery store, reaching for the top shelf, when a hand appeared from behind, plucking the jar of salsa you had been wiggling your fingers at.Â
You turned, looking up at an insanely gorgeous guy. He was tall, but not too tall, still under six foot, with a sleeve of tattoos and a layer of dark stubble over his cut jawline. He grinned, handing you the salsa jar. âHere you go, sweetheart.âÂ
You smiled, placing it in your cart. Salsa Guy kept his eyes on you, just the two of you in the aisle alone close to nine oâclock at night. âThank you.âÂ
He looked down at your cart. Chips and salsa, a pack of Twizzlers, a container of stuffed olives, a bar of white chocolate, three apples, a pack of ginger beer. âSomeone has a good night planned,â he said with a grin.Â
âOh, you know, cravings.â It came out automatically. But once you realized, you looked up and gulped. Here was a cute guy who had probably been hitting on you, and had failed to see the enormous baby bump hidden behind the handles of the cart.
His dark brown eyes gave you a quick once over. At twenty two weeks, you were pregnant. It was obvious by now. No matter how flowy the dress, there was a little bump there. Your fingertips gripped the cart handlebar tighter.Â
âSorry, I, uh, should get going.â You were just about to turn the cart around when his voice stopped you.
âHow about you let me take you out for a real meal.â You looked up in surprise. He shrugged. âUnless youâre involved?âÂ
âUm, no, Iââ You faltered.Â
He tilted his head. âNo to dinner,â he said slowly, âor no youâre not involved with anyone?âÂ
You straightened. âNo, Iâm not involved.âÂ
He held out a business card. Phillip Walker. You cocked your head to the side. Attorney. Since when did attorneys have sleeve tattoos? âCan I ask your name, before we go to dinner?âÂ
You smiled. âY/N.âÂ
âLet me get that for you,â he said, steering the cart down the aisle.Â
âWait, you were serious?â you asked. âYou want to go to dinner now?â It was almost nine thirty. Your bedtime.Â
Phillip nodded. âI would.âÂ
You paused at the end of the aisle before the rows of cashiers. âUm, Phillip?âÂ
âYes?âÂ
âYou know Iâm pregnant, right?âÂ
He laughed. It was low and rumbling. He nodded. âYes, doll, I can see that.âÂ
âIs this some kind of kink thing?â you whispered.Â
His eyes went wide. âNo?âÂ
You frowned. âAlright. Well, free dinner, I guess Iâd have to be insane to say no.âÂ
Phillip grinned. âYour pick then.âÂ
âI know just the place.âÂ
You and Phillip ended up eating tacos from a food truck near the beach, sitting with your feet hanging off the side of a picnic table as the waves crashed against the shore in the darkness. Phillip was funny, a dry humor that caught you off guard at first. He was an immigration attorney, just turned twenty seven, and his mother was born in Venezuela.Â
After you finished your final taco, four in total but who was counting, Phillip turned to you. âCan I ask you something?âÂ
âSure.âÂ
âThe guy,â he said. âIs he in the picture?âÂ
Phillip was the first person you had really talked to, let alone gone out with, since everything that had happened with Jake. You werenât sure what to say. He was your roommate? Your friend? Your brotherâs coworker?Â
Was he anything?Â
Sometimes it felt like Jake was a stranger. And other times it felt like he was the only thing you had. And yet, you still didnât know what to say about him.Â
âWeâre not involved,â you replied after a moment. âBut weâre friendly.â You paused. âHe and my brother work together.âÂ
âAh. Sounds complicated.âÂ
âI am a complicated woman.âÂ
âWho also likes white chocolate and nacho flavored Doritos.âÂ
âEveryone likes Doritos!âÂ
âCool Ranch forever,â he replied and you tipped your head back in a laugh. Phillip leaned over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. âYouâre beautiful when you laugh.âÂ
âThank you.â It was a whisper. Suddenly the sound of the sea, the waves crashing loudly against the shore, was dulled by the sound of your heart beating in your chest.Â
âIâd like to kiss you,â Phillip whispered, one of his hands pressed against the table behind your seat, the other still lingering against your jaw.Â
âI probably taste like tacos.âÂ
âYouâre in luck,â he murmured, âcause I love tacos.âÂ
And then his lips were on yours. He was a good kisser â firm, but not hard, no tongue at first, and he smelled like a woodsy cologne that transported your mind to a lush forest. For a moment, you felt yourself melt into the kiss. There was something so lustful about being wanted.Â
It wasnât until after, when Phillip pulled back and your eyes fluttered open, that the heart sinking realization kicked in.Â
Was this the last time someone was going to kiss you like this? With expectation, with the unknown hanging out in the abyss. Soon, youâd be a mother. Soon, youâd belong to someone else. And nothing would ever be as easy as it was in that very moment.Â
âIâm tired,â you whispered. âI should be getting home.âÂ
âOf course.â Phillip leaned back, stepping off the picnic table and holding out his hand. âI can drive you home in your car, and Iâll get an Uber back to mine.âÂ
âAre you sure?â you asked. âThatâs a hassle.âÂ
âIâm sure.â He held open the door and you took a seat in the passenger seat. It felt like a different world, just ten inches from where you usually sat. You turned as Phillip slid into the driverâs seat.Â
Everything felt different.Â
He set down the bag of groceries next to the door and straightened. âIâm really glad I went to the store for toothpaste tonight,â Phillip said.Â
You frowned. âDid you forget to buy the toothpaste?âÂ
He nodded and you laughed. âYes, yes I did.âÂ
âIâm glad we met, too.âÂ
âCan I see you again?â he asked.Â
âAre you sure you want to?âÂ
âIâm positive.âÂ
âHere.â You pulled out a pen and scribbled your number on his card, handing it back to him. âCall me.âÂ
âI will.â He waited until you had opened the door to the apartment before turning and walking down the hallway.Â
You set the bag of groceries on the counter before a voice behind you burst out into the silence. âWho was that?âÂ
You whipped around. Jake was wearing a Naval Academy sweatshirt and a pair of boxers, tall socks pulled up around his bony ankles. âFuck, you scared the shit out of me.âÂ
âItâs midnight, Y/N. Where have you been?âÂ
You rolled your eyes. âYouâre not my father.âÂ
âSomeone has to be looking out for you.âÂ
âYou and Bobby, youâre the fucking same,â you spat back.Â
Jake squinted. âIs that how you see me?â he asked.Â
âRight now, yeah, it is.â You shook your head and started to unload the groceries. âJust some guy I met at the grocery store. He helped me reach the salsa.âÂ
âYou left three hours ago.âÂ
âJake, itâs late.â You turned, one hand on your hip. In the bright light of the kitchen, you had a sudden glimpse of the future. Standing in a kitchen, rolling your eyes at your husband. But then you blinked, and it was just Jake, standing in front of you in a pair of almost too-tight boxers. âAsk the real questions you want answers to.âÂ
âDid you fuck him?âÂ
âDid you fuck the redhead from the bar?â you spat back.Â
Jake went ghost white.Â
âI said ask questions you want the answers to,â you replied. âAnd for your information, no, I didnât whore it out for a bottle of salsa in the back of a pickup truck. That kind of naivetĂŠ ended about five months ago.â You pressed one hand against your tight stomach and rubbed a gentle circle. âWhat do we owe each other, Jake?âÂ
He stepped closer. âI know you donât want to be with me,â he whispered. âAnd maybe you donât really even like me. But weâre stuck together, Y/N. For better or for worse, weâre having a baby together. So I guess what Iâm saying is we owe each other the truth.âÂ
âYou want the truth?â you asked. He nodded. âThe truth is, I donât know who I am anymore. Because in four plus months, Iâm going to be a mom. And that scares the shit out of me.âÂ
âIâm here,â Jake said. âIâm going to help. Youâre not alone in this.âÂ
âHow can I trust you when I donât even know you?âÂ
âWell you havenât really tried, now have you?â A bit of his Texan accent slipped out. It was small but it was there. A twang at the end of the sentence.Â
âYouâre right.âÂ
âThatâs the first time youâve ever said that.â He grinned.Â
âDonât get used to it.âÂ
âIâm trying here,â Jake said. âI want to do whatâs best for you. And for the baby.âÂ
âWhat about whatâs best for you?âÂ
He shrugged. âWhatâs best for you is best for me. Happy wife, happy life, right?âÂ
You rolled your eyes. âIâm not your wife, Hangman.âÂ
âDo me a favor.âÂ
âIâm carrying your enormous child, and you want another favor?âÂ
âDonât call me Hangman, OK?âÂ
You frowned. âAlright, I wonât.âÂ
âI can be Hangman at work. But with you, I want to be Jake.âÂ
âOK.â A silence enveloped the room and for the first time in a long time, you felt at ease with Jake. âWell, Jake, Iâm going to go to bed. Iâm exhausted.âÂ
You shuffled off to the side of the kitchen toward the bedrooms. Jakeâs hand reached out, fingertips curling around your wrist. You looked up. âI didnât get to tell you before, so Iâll tell you now. Iâm really happy itâs a girl.âÂ
You smiled. âYeah, me too. Little boys' clothes suck.âÂ
Jake grinned. âGoodnight, Y/N.âÂ
âGoodnight, Jake.âÂ
***
Jake was sixteen the first time he held his niece in his arms. His older sister Mary had gotten married young, and immediately had a baby.Â
Kirsten was tiny, shriveled little fingertips, a nose that barely protruded from her face, almost no hair to speak of.Â
And yet, something changed in that moment. He felt his world flip upside down. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was like to hold someoneâs life in his hand and know that he would lay down his life for that person.Â
Kirsten was thirteen now. At age eight, she asked Jake to be her show and tell item for school, and he took off a long weekend to go back to Texas to tell her class what it was like to be an aviator. And even though all that time had passed and she had grown up, sometimes Jake still looked at her and saw the newborn balanced perfectly in his scrawny arms.Â
***
Your second date with Patrick created even more mixed emotions.Â
On one hand, he was beautiful and successful, dynamic and smart. On the other hand, you still had a lump in the back of your throat that some random man would want to date a pregnant woman.Â
âItâs weird, right?â you said. Phoenix paused for a beat and you frowned, your fingertips gripping the steering wheel tighter. You had opted to drive yourself home from the restaurant, giving Patrick a kiss before he asked that you texted him when you got home.Â
âItâs a little weird,â she replied, her voice crackling through the car speakerphone. âBut not unheard of.âÂ
âItâs a porn category,â you argued.Â
She laughed. âOK but so is girl on girl. Doesnât make it a fetish. He might just genuinely be a good enough guy to be OK with it.âÂ
You flicked the turn signal, waiting for the light to turn green before taking a left into the apartment complex parking lot and switching the call back to your phone. âI guess,â you said. âI donât know.âÂ
âDo you like him?âÂ
âYeah, I do,â you replied, locking the car and stepping into the lobby. âItâs just kind of weird. Everything is weird right now.âÂ
âItâs uncharted territory,â Phoenix said. âJust take a shower, get in your pajamas and watch Young Sheldon.âÂ
âGod, a perfect night,â you said. âAlright, Iâm home. Iâll see you tomorrow for the party?â Coyote was having a house party for his new condo, and you and Phoenix had made plans to go.Â
âIâll pick you up at nine.â She hung up as you opened the apartment door.Â
It was quiet, but there was a light on in the hallway. âJake?â you called out, setting your purse down. âAre you home?âÂ
âIn here!â You rounded the corner into your bedroom. Jake looked up. âSurprise.âÂ
You gasped. A brand new white crib sat in the corner, the one you had gawked at in a Pottery Barn catalog and then promptly flipped the page when you spotted the price tag. There was also the matching dresser, with a changing table on top.Â
âOh my God,â you whispered.Â
Jake stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. âSorry, just finished building it, still have to clean up.âÂ
âYou did all of this?âÂ
âWell we needed a crib. Oh and look.â He stepped over to the dresser and pulled open the first drawer to reveal a perfect line of folded onesies. âMy mom sent them. Look at this one.â He tugged one out and held it up.Â
It was a Naval Academy onesie.Â
Jake grinned. âGreat, right?âÂ
âI canât believe you did this,â you whispered.Â
âNo big deal. Besides, we needed a nursery. Maybe once we move into a house weâll have a spare bedroom, andââ
You held up one hand. âA house? Since when are we moving into a house?âÂ
Jake looked around slowly. âI mean, itâs just the next step, right? This apartment is OK for now, but when the baby gets here itâs going to get crowded.âÂ
You crossed your hands over your chest. âI thought this was temporary,â you replied. âI needed a place to stay to get away from Bobby. But this.â You swooped your hand out toward the crib and dresser. âThis is feeling very real.â Your pulse started to race.Â
Jake frowned. âWhat are you saying?â he asked. âYou donât want to continue to live together once the baby is born?âÂ
âI donât know.âÂ
Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:
@blue-aconite @withahappyrefrain @wkndwlff @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @gigisimsonmars @xomrsalliej4787xo @myfaveficrecs @mycobrakai1972 @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @justanothermagicalsara @je-suis-prest-rachel @shanimallina87
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#jake hangman fic#top gun fanfiction#jake seresin#top gun imagine#bob floyd fanfiction#jake hangman x you#hangman fanfiction#jake hangman imagine#bob floyd x female reader#robert bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x y/n#bob floyd x reader#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x reader#pregnancy#pregnancy fic#unexpected pregnancy#sister reader#natasha phoenix trace#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#glen powell#jake seresin angst#hangman angst#lewis pullman
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IF I LAY HERE (WOULD YOU LIE WITH ME?) â
masterlist.
pairing: eren x reader
genre: best friends-to-lovers-au, actor au, fluff mostly | warnings: fem!reader | wc: 2.6k
note: hey. i still love u guys and i am still pining over aot. will never stop probably. anyway, this was an older fic i wrote but i'm handing it down to eren! title is taken/inspired from chasing cars by snow patrol (my fav song)
⤠Eren has had enough - it's been four months since he's last seen you, and he's not going to let his fame status keep him from seeing you any longer. He just hopes that you feel the same way when you see him again.
Eren was taking a pretty big risk, he knew that.
It was risky taking any step out of his apartment at any moment; heâd think he was safe until he made it to the end of the road, earphones snug in his ears, and the flash of a camera behind the bushes in the corner of his eye blinds him back to his front door in a twisted shame.Â
Granted, heâd expected it to be worse now that he'd booked a plane ticket and made a rather hasty, in-the-moment journey to the airport and on a plane with no layover. Usually when Eren takes a journey overseas, thereâs at least one or two fans hiding in the corner of the suites waiting for him, or someone on the plane whoâd recognise his face.
For this, heâd suck it up and take a photo. It was better to have good PR and be a little bit pissed off that heâd been discovered, than to have bad PR and to be known as the actor from Attack on Titan who didnât give a damn about the people who essentially made him and his friends famous.
But Eren thought the risk was worth it this time. The plane touched down in a different country, and from there, it was an hour long train journey to a station he didnât know anything about to meet a friend of yours heâd only seen in Instagram pictures.
You were at university now, a face he saw on a screen rather than a face he quite literally saw every day months before. It had been four months since Eren had seen his best friend, and fuck anybody who was going to make him wait a second longer before seeing you again.
You were his greatest risk, but it was worth it. You were worth it.
âFuck, itâs insane to actually be meeting you right now.â
Frank is a good guy, ginger with circle glasses resting on the end of his roundish nose. He led Eren out of the train station, offering to pull his suitcase for him. âI mean, Iâm a huge fan.â Followed by a sigh and a quiet, âWho isnâtâŚ?â
Eren smiled at him, squinting in the sun as it hit his eyes in the direction of Frankâs face. âThanks. I hear a lot about you, too.â
Frank grinned, whipping his head towards Eren. âAll sexy and scandalous things, I hope. You know, none of us believed Y/N when she said she knew you. We thought the pictures were Photoshopped, you know how she is.â They both paused by the side of the road waiting to cross, âShit, sheâs gonna freak out when she sees you.â
That was three minutes ago, but Eren's still playing that sentence on a loop in his head. She's gonna freak out when she sees you.
He walks alongside Frank down one of the streets, past a redundant furniture store that quirks his brows. Heâs missed it here, and how unbelievably, shockingly awful it all looks when youâre not looking at picturesque photos of it online.
âI thought youâd know that Y/Nâs my best friend,â Eren says thoughtfully. He pauses as Frank does as a car zooms past when theyâre about to cross. âI mean, people know. The photos got leaked, all of them.â
âHey, give me a break,â Frank says dramatically. âI only really became a super fan three months ago. I'm more into Levi, you know how it goes. And yeah, I figured it out eventually. Finally, I understood why so many people at this uni wanted photographs with her and to be her best friendâŚâ
Eren frowns. âIs it bad? She doesnât tell me this stuff on the phone. I mean, they go crazy online when she posts pictures and we interact, but I didnâtâŚâ
Frank shakes his head and grins at Eren as the words die out in his mouth.
âNah, donât panic. Itâs not that bad. If anything, she might get a kick out of the fame. Trust, thereâs always gonna be the girls who hate her because sheâs friends with you and thatâs like, what, threatening to their fantasy? But she loves you a lot, and a friendship like yoursâŚitâs kinda like family, you know?â
Eren feels his stomach flip, butterflies going haywire. These butterflies are bitter and relentlessly fast, his heart racing that extra bit quicker. He likes the sound of family. He doesnât like the way Frank implies it, because if Eren is ever going to consider you as family, it wonât be as his sister.
Youâve never been his sister, even when you became part of his family growing up on special occasions, or even just on a daily basis when you came to visit. There were times his family called you their own, but you were never his sister. It was different than that; you both knew it but never dared acknowledge it.
Frank makes small talk until they make it to the student accomodation you currently live at, and because Frank knows basically everybody, a student comes to the gate to let them both in. Theyâre nice and tall, wearing an Aston Villa shirt that Eren remembers looks a lot like your dadâs back in the day. Might be the same kind, might be a vintage.
He smiles at him, because maybe this guy knows Eren, but then the guy just turns back into the common room and doesnât come out again. Frank doesnât live here - he lives in a flat of his own around the corner, but Frank might as well be a resident here. He lets himself in towards the lift and shoots a text to one of your flatmates.
âApparently sheâs in the shower,â Frank says casually. He locks his phone, taps his foot as the lift rises, âLetâs hope she doesnât stride out completely stark naked as youâre in there.â
He almost blushes, âHa, yeah.â
He declines to mention the times you two have showered together, the time you went skinny dipping together when you were seventeen. Those were things that might end up getting misunderstood, and those are his memories heâd like to keep a secret. He says nothing, nothing but a thank you when he enters your flat with Frank and takes a different turn to the left whereas Frank goes right, towards the kitchen.
Your room is at the very end, your name on the door in stickers from a set you got from the market, and from inside, he hears the music in the bathroom. The door opens silently and closes with the same volume, and Eren manages to wheel his suitcase to the end of the bed and plonks himself down.
As expected from pixels on the screen, your room looks better in person - white walls and a bed set thatâs white and covered with little peonies. Above your desk, Eren recognises all your photos together, new polaroids of you and the friends youâve made at university who Eren always felt kind of threatened by. He smiles to himself, and rests his head against the wall your bed is attached to. From here, he can see the bathroom door in the mirror on the opposite wall, but he knows youâll only see his feet when you come out.
Speaking of which; the song playing in the bathroom ends suddenly and the shower water has stopped running. Eren hears the toilet flush and his heart starts to race.
Four months of falling asleep on Facetime and texting when there was no time left in the day, and now, here he is, on your bed, waiting for you to step out and⌠And, then what?
Maybe you wouldn't even want him here. Maybe you were happier now that Eren was travelling the world with his other friends and film crew while you were still here, in a new city with new friends and a new life. Maybe the memory of Eren was burdensome to you. Worse - maybe he was something you felt you had to remember but didnât really want to.
Eren's always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but thereâs a split second where Eren feels like he might not be good enough for you. Heâs the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and heâs afraid thatâs something that he might not ever be able to give you, even with all the money and the fame.
The bathroom door opens and in two seconds, the light is shut off and he hears you sigh.
âJesus, Frank, you gotta stop letting yourself in here without telling me,â your voice says. âGood thing Iâm semi-decent. Usually Iâm not.â
âNo fun,â Eren teases, and silence follows. Thereâs a pause, and Eren cocks his head, his left cheek on his shoulder, waiting for you to click and appear in front of him.
Suddenly, he hears small but quick thuds across the carpet and Eren feels his chest tighten with a nostalgic feeling when you come into view with wide eyes, damp hair and nothing but a bra and those stupid black worn leggings you refuse to throw out.
The grin that reaches Eren's eyes now aches as he laughs at you, at the way you gape at his presence. It takes a moment, a moment of what feels like could be the rejection that Eren absolutely fears, but then you smile so wide that Eren feels it in his stomach.
âHoly shit!â you exclaim loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth as you hurry towards the bed. It dips beneath your knees and Eren rises up to a more comfortable position. âWhat the fuck!â
He laughs out loud, and when Eren wastes zero time in bringing you into his arms, hugging you tightly.
âCareful, my hairâs all wet,â you squeak.
âDonât care.â
He really doesnât. Thereâs probably going to be a damp spot on his clothes after, but thatâs okay. You groan loudly with happiness as you hug him in return as tightly as he is hugging you, your weight on his lap and your arms around his neck.
Eren smiles so wide, sighing with content into your neck. Here, he smells the marshmallow body wash on your skin, the fragrance of your hair that kind of reminds him of Cabbage Patch babies.
âYou smell good,â he mutters. You laugh quietly, squirming when his nose sniffs across your neck like one would kiss. âI donât.â
âYou do, you always smell good,â you reply. One sniff, he laughs, âSee!â
âMmm,â he plays along, âthe sweet smell of planes and trains and jet lag.â
That makes you laugh, and at the mention of jet lag, Eren realises he could probably fall asleep like this given the chance. He has missed this, missed you, so fucking much. The emotions are overwhelming.Â
Eren kisses behind your earlobe, and then just underneath your jaw. Thatâs new. Eren was always a cheek-kiss kind of best friend, but never this.
Youâre not complaining. Your head drops to one side, almost giving him more access to the space free, and he occupies it. Those fucking butterflies; Eren feels sick with nerves as he kisses you, under your chin and across your neck, on that spot on your collarbone you found out tickled after Seven Minutes in Heaven in Year 8.
Maybe your fingernails in his hair are a way of you telling him to stop - itâs something he can think about tonight if he canât fall asleep, something he doesnât care to think about when he kisses on your actual jawline, to your cheek and the corner of your mouth, your cupidâs bow.
He moves away with a blush that matches your own, but maybe you canât see his in the colour of your fairy lights. He plays with the dazed confusion on your face as he moves the hair from across your face to around your ears, smiling and raising his eyebrows.
âYour hair is so fucking wet,â he sniggers boyishly.
âI told you,â you shrug. You shrink, relaxed, âFuck, why are you here? I mean, Iâm literally so happy, but⌠Are you gonna get in trouble for this?â
âI dunno,â he admits. âMaybe, probably. I meanâŚthe guys know Iâm here. Jean drove me to the airport with Armin.â
âThatâs not what I mean, though.â
Eren sighs loudly. âYeah, I know. Frank told me all about the girls.â
âLittle fucker. Is he here? Iâll punch him for mentioning it to you. Itâs honestly fine. It's only a few. Most are really nice!â
âYouâre my best friend for life, itâs important to me that youâre not uncomfortable by--â
âIâm not,â you assure him, hands trapped in his hair. You frown and try to change the subject, âDamn, this got long. Didnât look long over the phone.â
âI've been growing it out,â Eren replies. âHeard you fancied Keanu Reeves, couldnât handle the competition.â
âHa!â you retort. âSimp.â
âFor you,â frowns Eren dramatically.
Conversation fizzles comfortably, to the point where you both forget that Eren's underneath you and your legs are wrapped like a koala around his middle.
The fact that this is normality for you both is ignored. Youâve done worse things together. Eren even knows that the bra youâre wearing now is one he bought for you, half as a joke, half not. That could be why Eren feels the way that he does, why the confusion wraps around his body and traps him.
Eren knows that the butterflies in his stomach donât just appear because youâre his best friend he hasnât seen in a while. He knows what they mean when they flutter when your name pops up when youâre calling him, when an interviewer tries to catch him out by bringing you up in another interview that you donât need to be mentioned in.
Eren knows that coming here was worth the confusion, and the nerves, and the fact that this will be a headline when it gets out. EREN YEAGER GOES TO VISIT HIS BEST FRIENDâŚBUT ARE THEY MORE? Or worse, NETIZENS HAVE PROOF THAT A.O.T EREN IS DATING HIS BEST FRIEND Y/NâŚ
He doesnât want to hurt you. Thatâs why he feels scared. For you to be scandalised by an article online that caught him out in his feelings, he knew it wasnât fair. Eren might be too afraid to say heâs in love, and too afraid to find out if you feel it too, if all those years of confused relations and flirtations meant anything, but heâd risk those feelings and the headlines if it meant being able to spend one more day with you.
Eren's got a week and a half with you. Somethingâs gotta give within this week. He doesnât want to go back to filming with more regrets than he came here with, and so for now, heâll just have to swallow those butterflies back down when they pour out of his mouth.
Right now, he canât afford to be caught out. It has to be said on his own terms, when the timing is perfect. It has to be perfect, because itâs what you deserve. It has to be perfect, because if it isnât, then Eren doesnât think it will be worth it.
Losing you to a headline and a butterfly is out of the question. You hop off him and shrug on a jumper from out of your wardrobe. If you noticed his unease, then you didnât mention it. He almost wants to cry, wants the confusion to go away for the night so he can enjoy being here.
Fuck.
For now, he thinks as he follows you with an arm around your shoulders out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen to meet the others, heâll just have to fake it 'til he makes it. Just like always. Put on a face, put on a show, until it all feels worth the spillage. He canât let the butterflies escape yet.
It has to be perfect, and until then, heâll just have to be patient, even if it breaks his heart more by pretending.
#eren#eren yeager#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger#eren x reader#eren yeager x reader#eren fluff#attack on titan#aot#eren fanfic#aot fanfic#attack on titan fanfic#snk#shingeki no kyojin#aot imagine#snk imagine#ittojean#eren actor au#aot actor au#jeanbie
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Jealousy looks good on you ~ Kit Connor x Male Reader
So you guys LOVED my last Kit post so here's another one - mild jealousy, Fluff and dating 'headcannons' word count: 850 m!reader (no genitalia mentioned) / FDNI
Before Dating
The two of you were best friends
In the most platonic way, you two were practically already dating
Kit and you were close since Y7
The two of you would cling onto each other, the gingers hands were almost always on your waist if yours weren't on his shoulders
You would sleep round Kit's house every weekend, then he would sleep round on most weekdays "because your house is closer to college"
When one of you got into a relationship, it went one of two ways:
If Kit got into a relationship, the girl would get jealous of you within a week, Kit would get mad at her and they'd break up in a month tops
It was always weird for Kit when he got into a relationship, he'd never really LOVE her, but he just put it down to him being young
What he knew was that he didn't like how his girlfriends treated you, and he hated how because he was in a relationship, you would back off with the clinginess
One time, a new girlfriend of his was alone with Kit, and when he brought you up, she said "Oh that f*g? You're like, actually, friends with him?" - that was the first and last time he'd shouted at a girl
The second option is you getting into a relationship, Kit gets insanely jealous, side comments about your boyfriend and going silent when you would bring him up - totally platonic
Kit would get even clingier, like snuggling his face in your neck "Cause he's tired"
The ginger would even crash your dates 'on accident'
Your boyfriend at the time would go mad, Kit fucking loved it, you were his best-friend after all
But all of his 'platonic' jealousy paid off when the guy broke up with you, and Kit was your shoulder to cry on
He felt bad, but he loved being your comfort, he didn't want anyone else to be as good of a friend to you as he was...
Kit knew he was Bi since Y10, what you didn't know was that you're the reason he knew that
After many failed relationships, the ginger realised that he'd much prefer to be in a relationship with you than any other girl in your year
After all, he had broken down once when you canceled plans to go on a date with your bf - like he cried and all, that must of been his first sign that he wasn't as straight as he thought
And after his glow-up in Y13 (not that he needed one, my god), you fell for him too - HARD
Dating
Kit is the most jealous type of man ever
And you fucking love it
Usually it's really little things, like his hand tightening around yours when an attractive guy is talking to you
Or holding you closer when an ex tries to talk to you
He isn't toxic about it at all
When kit gets jealous he talks to you about it - it's so attractive
However, the last time he got jealous was intense
The two of you were out, not specifically on a date, but just enjoying each other's company
The calm and enjoyable atmosphere was interrupted by your most infamous ex
Kit hated him and his guts
That cunt ruined you, and no matter how much Kit loved to comfort you, this dickhead went overboard
And he had the guts to keep in touch with you!?
As you and your ex chatted, he started to obviously flirt with you
You laughed his remarks of as Kit pulled you closer to him
After a while, Kit had, had enough of him
"Hate to interrupt but can't you see we're on a date here, mate?"
Fuck you loved it when Kit went full on Britt
He rarely did that, but it made your face darken slightly with a blush
"Alright mate no need to be dick, bye (y/n), ill see ya round"
You say nothing, just roll your head towards Kit and look up at him with a cheeky smile
"What?!" He asks defensively
"Nothing... jealousy just looks good on you" you tease tour ginger boyfriend
"Oh shut up" he chuckles, his muscular arm around your waist tightly as he leans his head into your neck
It's crazy how such an attractive man gets so jealous for you, but you love it
The built ginger gets possessive obviously, however that's more in the bedroom than in daily life
He always prefers secluded areas for dates, fields or the comfort of your own home
Mainly because of his new found fame, but the man also likes to keep you to himself
Kit also tries to impress you so much, the ginger feels the need to be the centre of your attention at all times
He'll lift you up to show off his strength, subtly show off his muscles or mention his paycheck for last month
You play into his little games and act all wooed and impressed, and he lives off of it.
Also, mini rant:
Can I just say how fucking annoying it is to search "jealous male reader" and every post is Yandere and shit??? Like bro I want jealousy in the sense that I feel wanted not always 'death' and 'darling' and shit. Rant over <3
#male reader#gay#x male reader#fanfic#fluff#cute gay#kit connor#kit connor x reader#kit connor x male reader#celebrity x reader#celebrity x male reader#heartstopper x reader#heartstopper#heartstopper x male reader#x male reader fluff#male reader fluff#x m!reader
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i really missed youâŚ
Childe x reader (smut)
. ⢠â . ° .⢠°:. *â ° . â . . ⢠â . ° .⢠°:. *â ° . â . â ° .â˘
exfwb to lovers, size difference? rough, sub to dom (childe)? p in v, silly at the end
sorry for any misspellings!!
your in your apartment living room, your roommate, ganyu, is out doing something with xiao or something, but you have some stupid tv show on that you put on as background. Your on your couch fully spread out with only a big tee and black tiny underwear on covering your bits down stairs, your finishing reading a paragraph from the big ass text you just HADD to buy for this dumb class when you heard knocking.
you grown while getting up thinking your roommate Ganyu ordered something and itâs just delivered, but looking back at the time, exactly 12:30. You think to yourself âwho tf could be delivering something at this time?â before getting on your tiptoes and looking at the peephole to see who the hell is knocking at your apartment. You froze, you saw that same hot orange ginger head of hair that you know so well.
childe and you were friends with befits your freshman year of college, but you grew feelings, and he just wanted his cock sucked, so you broke it off even though you guys are still in the same friend group and you still havenât gotten over him or his cock.
you open the door, heâs leaning on the door frame, he forgot how big he was, he was basically towering over you âhey.â he said with a sigh âhiâŚâ you said in a confused tone âwhy the hell are you here.â you said without any hesitation âyou were right.â he said looking down at his shoes. he was in a burgundy dress shirt with black dress pants and nice shoes, looking like he just got off of a meeting or something fancy. âI was right about whatâŚ?â you said crossing your arms âiâm in love with you.â he said.
before you can even grasp a thought he asks to come in, so you do because your so confused and horny to see him. he sits on your couch man spreading with his elbows in his knees and his face in his hands, you sit next to him, trying to hide the fact that you only were a shirt and panties. âso i went on a date with lumine.â he says putting his hands down âthe girl you wanted to bang forever?â you butt in âyea..sure i guess, but it wasnât right, she wasnât you.â he said turning his head to face you âi missed you y/nâ he rushes to put his hands around your waist and bury his face into your side waiting for what your gonna say.
âchilde-â âajax pleaseâ he cut you off âajaxâsâŚi really missed you too but-â âDO YOU A BF NOW??â he yells getting up and sitting back up. âNOO??â âTHEN WHY DID YOU SAY BUTâ âBUT I NEED TO CHANGE BECAUSE IM ONLY IN A THONG AND GANYUâS BIG SHIRT!!â you scream while lifting up your shirt showing the pretty black thong you have on. âyou donât need to change..â âajax.â âbut anyways, do you still love me.â you pause looking into his eyes that give the look of sorrow and regret for only wanted you to fuck âi really do still love you-â he clashes your lips together without a second thought.
you grab his hair pulling him into you more, his hands feeling up your curves and tummy and ofc tits but mostly your ass. he pickes you up and sets you in his lap, ây/nâŚi need you to fucking badly that if i donât fuck you i will go insaneâ he says huffing for air after that make out session. âthen prove how bad you need-â *BRING BRING* âoh shitâ itâs your phone you get off his lap to retrieve your buzzing phone âshit itâs ganyuâ
âHEYY GIRLLLâ you said in a high pitched voice âhii sweetheart, i just calling to say that im about to come over and we really need to finish the twilight movies tonight!!â you give ajax a motion of you faking choking yourself out with your tongue hanging out your mouth before getting back on the phone âuhhh ganyu what it im busy..â ajaxâs giggles watching you try not to laugh. âoh you donât have to watching it just wanna watch it with you in the room with me!! you can just do your homework on the couch or something!!â you love ganyu so much but your craving ginger cock rn
âuhh maybe, how far away are you?â âuhh about 20 minutesâ shit. itâs not gonna take 20 minutes for him to suck and fuck you until your not thinking right. âokayy see you in a little bit bye!!â âbye bye-â you hang up on her quickly âbaby you gotta leave, we can fuck some other timeâ he looks at you, half his shirt is unbuttoned ây/n please, i need your pussy, just hide me in your room, iâll be quiet!! i promise!!â he pleases âajaxâs come onâ you open the door for him âfine..â he puts his head down walking over to the door, you kiss him and tell him to come over soon and even before you can close the door he leans down and whispering into your ear âplease just let me fuck you like the good girl you are..â you freeze not even a word can come out as he leans even more down leaving kisses down you neck that lead to sloppy sucking on your neck âajaxâŚâ you moan trying to be super loud for you neighbors ânow can i come back in?â
you pull him buy his collar up the stairs telling him to get own your bed as you make a call, âhii y/nâ ganyu picks up, you put your phone into your shoulder and ear holding it in place âhey i canât watch the movies tonight..â you say looking at ajaxâs on your bed with palming his throbbing boner that very much need your touch âiâm busy..â you say to ganyu on the other end while taking off the black panties âwhat why!! uhh y/n!!â you hear her asking why and how while you climb on time of ajax, straddling him and rubbing you bare pussy on his ragging boner, he covers his mouth trying to not let ganyu hear his moans âi need dick really badlyâ *click*
you hung up on her throwing your phone and quickly taking off your shirt. âi need you so badly itâs hurtingâ ajax moans grabbing you by your hips and moving you back and forth faster in his boner âwell, take it out thenâ he quickly unbuttons his belt and whipping out his cock, you forgot how big it really is. his bright pink tip with his thick base, you almost forgot how perfect he was. you lean and kiss the tip which led to more of him moaning âpleaseâŚuhh..y/n..i need you..â âlet me put it inâŚuhh⌠be patientâ
you get on your knees leveling your self to go down on his aching cock, you slowly go down on the tip cause him to moan and huff so loudly that your neighbors are prolly gonna yell shut up soon âi canâtâŚi need you..â he grabs you hips again and thrust you down onto his cock, him fully being inside you he lifts you up barely leaving the tip in and pushes you down. you melted at the spot, jerking your head back and felling like a toy but you didnât care all you could hear was the sound of your wetness and his skin clashing with yours with your and his moans and grunting.
you lift your head back up to look at him âchildeeeeâŚahhh..i missed youuuâ you say bouncing up and down on him as he controls your hips and how fast they go up and down âiâ *thrust* âsaidâ *thrust* âtoâ *thrust* âcall meâ *thrust* âAJAXâ *THRUST* he pulls out and flips you on your back, you feel so light headed that you donât seem to be real. he picks up your legs and puts them over his broad should and puts his cock back inside. âgood girl..ahh..your missed this fat cock..didnât you..uhhhh..yourâŚso tight!â you look at him trying to focus on him and not you pussy being pounded âimmmâŚcloseeeâŚAHHHHâ ajax picks up the speed of his trust âcum on my cock babyâŚplease i need your cum on me..uhhâ he grunts though his teeth. with more thrust and moaning you cum on his cock but he doesnât change his speeding leaning to your sensitive parts feel like heâs never gonna stop. then he pulls out âface down ass up. now baby.â he says thrusting into his fist, try you best to move quickly as you can and once your ass is up he pumps his cock until he finishes on your back, leaving ropes of white.
him being still full clothed puts his cock up and takes his belt off, dropping it on the floor. he lays down next to you, and picks you up laying you on top of him âi really missed you y/nâ you sighs playing your your hair as your still butt ass naked laying on top on him with his cum all on your back. âmiss you more ajax.â you say with a smile.
âARE YALL DONE!! OH MY FUCKING GOD!! IVE NEVER HEARD A MAN MOAN LIKE THAT!!â you hear yanfei screaming then you hear loud footsteps âIM SORRY Y/NNN!!â itâs ganyu screaming at yanfei to stfu. you left your head up at ajax and you both start cracking up, he grabs you around the waist and starts rocking you back and forth while laughing then he pauses âfuck i got cum on my sleeves.â
. ⢠â . ° .⢠°:. *â ° . â . . ⢠â . ° .⢠°:. *â ° . â . â ° .â˘
authors note: MY FIRST FANIC ON THIS ACC!! YIPPEE ofc it had to be smut. anyways thank you for reading this đ¤
#genshin smut#childe smut#genshin x reader#genshin childe#childe x reader#childe x reader smut#smut fanfiction#genshin impact smut
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Favorite Headcanons for airy?
i have like 10 million headcanons for him but iâll list as many as i can from the top of my head
-hes autistic LIKE ME!!! and is specifically very autistic about music (like meee) i like to think he had a huge collection of vinyls cds cassettes etc and its all stuff from the 60s to the early 90s. no doubt he had a bunch of posters for his favorite bands and musicians too. and hes awesome on the guitar, great rhythm guitarist⌠its a shame he couldnât make his talent a profession like he once dreamed of doing. oh well, at least the number 1 perk of trucking is that its peaceful and you dont really have to interact with many people! plus trucks have radios, and cd players, so airy would often bring along a few albums to listen to as he drove those long days and nights.
-hes also got a knack for aquatic creatures (LIKE ME) of course, being a literal fish monster himself (cool fact my airy design is like actually a fish monster he can breathe underwater and everything and his limbs are covered in fish scales) airy loves fish both as friends and food. hes particularly fond of freshwater fish, which makes sense considering the fact he grew up around the swamps of louisiana (yes im making him louisianan Like Me shaddap) hes also fond of those fucked up looking deep sea creatures, just so fascinating. i think airy liked to do a little fishing in his spare time. And hes awesome at cooking em but fair warning for those with a low spice tolerance⌠he loves spicy food btw (like meeeee)
-when airy was in the forest, he kept a log of his thoughts on the computer, in an attempt to hopefully give himself whatever clarity he could. the notes ranged from all brief, to desperate, to hopeless, to spiraling, to borderline dadaist poetry? to insanity, to denial, to whatever, really i think his mind was obviously all over the place on a daily basis. things must have been pretty loud for him, that cassette player was probably one of the only things keeping him together, before he numbed himself n all, which is around the time he ceased writing these notes as he saw no point in doing so.
-ok enough about him suffering weâll get back to that later Airyâs favorite drink is ginger ale i mean look at that guy and tell me he doesnt fw ginger ale or dr pepper are you kidding me. he can have dr pepper as a little treat (too much soda is bad for anyone especially if youre an old feller like airy) speaking of little treats i like to think he has an insatiable sweet tooth LIKE MEEEE and his favorite treaaats are pumpkin pie, macarons and practically anything chocolate he loves chocolate (im like allergic to not projecting onto my favorite characters if you couldnt tell) maybe airy knows how to bake a little bit i mean he is an object show host after all
-this is oddly specific but airy is a chronic pain warrior #JUSTLIKEME so when he was in the forest heâd make like home made heating pads by wetting a glob of moss and putting it against his face while he had his flame on (he sometimes put it on a plank over a bonfire if he felt like it) this was a bit tricky when he broke his face but im sure he managed he always manages (kinda) (relatively speaking)
-well anyway weâre back to the forest and i just mentioned his broken face So you know how he disappeared for seven months after he did that lol well what if it was because the pain and shock from that incident evoked the long lost clarity heâd been so stubbornly avoiding in order to cling on to his meaningless, fallacious escapism which triggered him and sent him into a state of agonizing self consciousness, reminding him of his earthly death, how he used to be Someone, and how he essentially let himself rot into what is now an empty shell of who he once was. after so many years, the first reflection he saw of himself was seen in something broken; shards of glass, of which he couldnât stand to look at⌠as there is nothing comparable to the pain of revelation, the burden of truth after having been so lost and festered into the stagnant waters that surround you. he felt he had no choice, he disposed of the shards into the nearby stream. those seven months were not just a matter of physically healing, but as a means to losing himself all over again.
-Aaaanyway i think airy had a cat at some point in his life i think we can all agree hes a cat person right!!! he had a tortoiseshell kitty named goose and he loved her very much. idk why he named her goose he probably just thought it was funny to name an animal after a different animal.
-OH YEAH lemme bring amelia into this listen i am such a huge fan of the theory of airy being related to amelia so i like to think hes her uncle!! when amelia was little sheâd stay over at airyâs house while her parents were away and heâd teach her stuff like how to fish, how to ward off snakes, how to kayak, all that jazz cuz he was an awesome uncle. she was kinda like an actual daughter to him. and amelia was so fond of sunny weather as a child, one dayy at airyâs house she had to stay inside because it was too rainy, so she occupied herself by drawing a little picture of the way she wished earth was; always sunny, sky always blue, grass always green, huh! the way she drew that grass as individual little triangles is all too familiar is it notâŚ
OK I HAVE SOMEWHERE 2 GO now iâll probablt add more later But thank u so much for asking this i love love love infodumping about anything airy related i heart airy
#frank answers a thing#airy hfjone#hfjone#believe it or not this is just a few#i have so many i have way too many i have so so so many things to say about airy oh my gosh#oh my gosh airy
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kinktober d.3: gallavich + oral fixation
minors + under 18s pls do not interact ty
gallavich (ian x mickey); 2k words, smut, college au, crushes, blowjobs, oral fixation
a/n: this one's an au but i swear it's good so pls give it a chance!! <3
Mickeyâs never been one to stare. He knows how to mind his own business, fuck you very much, and on top of that he doesnât find most people all that interesting. Some of them are hot, some of them are boring, but most of them land somewhere in the middle that warrants a few glances at most before he makes a move or leaves them alone. Heâs a direct person, for better or worse, and doesnât find much fun in the whole playing footsie under the table and biting your lip at each other. If heâs into someone heâll come out and say it, so no, he doesnât spend much of his time staring at people. But this one ginger fuck â well, heâs an exception.
Mickey sees him for the first time in his Entrepreneurship class. This shouldnât mean anything, really, because there are at least three hundred people crammed into the lecture hall, but the redhead is hot and sitting a row down just to Mickeyâs right so that heâs got a good view of him. Heâs hot enough that Mickey considers asking if heâll be at the student bar later, but instead he finds himself watching him the whole class. In particular, he finds him watching his mouth.
The whole class, the redhead has something between his lips. At first heâs chewing gum, which he neatly folds away in a piece of scrap paper ten minutes into the lecture and replaces with the end of his pen. At first heâs just running it back and forth across his lips, almost like heâs flirting subconsciously with someone, but eventually he starts chewing on the plastic, teeth digging into little grooves already formed there. Even during the break when heâs chatting idly with the person sat next to him he runs his tongue along his bottom lip between sentences, bites at his top lip so that itâs slick with spit when he starts to speak again. Mickeyâs captivated, and by the time heâs packing his notebook away he realises he didnât learn much of anything from the lecture.
Next lecture, he looks around for the ginger head of hair and sits behind him again. He tells himself this time heâll ask where heâs staying, find something to talk about that makes it clear he wants to hang out, but then the redhead unwraps a lollipop and all of those thoughts vanish. Itâd be one thing if he just sucked on it like a normal person, but every few minutes he grabs a hold of the stick and rubs it back and forth over his lips like heâs applying gloss. Once again, an hour and forty five minutes are lost to watching this guyâs mouth. Watching how he leaves his lips shiny with sugar for a second or two before licking it away, over and over until the lollipop is gone. Even then he keeps the stick in his mouth, moving it up and down then side to side with his tongue. Mickeyâs glad the pull up desk is close enough to his lap that no one can see the boner he spends all class willing away.
This happens again, and again, until Mickey feels like heâs going insane. He hasnât mapped out anybodyâs face this well, couldnât tell you if his flatmate had any beauty marks, but heâs got the freckles on this guyâs face committed to memory. And his mouth. He has an embarrassing amount of daydreams (and real dreams) about his fucking mouth. Itâs a nightmare. Every time he checks his timetable and sees Entrepreneurship his stomach does a little flip-flop of anticipation. And if Mickeyâs never been one for staring, heâs definitely never been one for stomach flip-flops.
Itâs the eighth lecture when he gets to class and doesnât spot the redhead there, which unnerves him slightly because heâs always weirdly early. But whatever. The lectures arenât mandatory and with the amount of people in the class itâd be impossible to see the same people every time. He sits down towards the back and pulls out his notebook and pen (free of teeth marks, unlike that redheaded fuckâs). Itâs almost like clockwork, what happens next. As soon as the cap on his pen comes off, the seat next to his is being pushed down andâ shit.
âCool if I sit here?â the redhead asks, even though heâs already sat down, pulling out a notebook and his signature chewed up pen.
âGuess so,â Mickey mumbles, and realises far too late that heâs been staring at him. Heâs gotten so used to doing it that itâs almost like second nature, but now that the guyâs sitting close enough that he can feel the warmth coming off of his arm itâs painfully obvious that heâs looking at him and his mouth.
They sit in silence until the lecture starts, at which point the redhead leans into him and speaks softly around the pen cap between his lips.
âMy nameâs Ian,â he whispers. Mickey glances at him and instantly feels a familiar warmth in his stomach when he twists the pen cap back and forth between his lips.
âMickey,â he whispers back, averting his eyes before he digs himself any further into this hole.
âMy friend said you were staring last lecture,â Ian goes on, voice taking on a teasing lilt that has Mickey cussing under his breath. âAnd the one before that, and the one before?â
He phrases it like a question, like Mickey should say something to defend himself before he jumps to conclusions. There isnât much to say though, not when the conclusions are probably accurate, so he just shrugs.
âYouâve always got shit in your mouth, man,â he mumbles back, meeting Ianâs eyes for a split second and then looking down at where heâs sucking on his bottom lip for what he hopes is just a split second. ââS fuckinâ weird.â
âWeird?â Ian whispers, breaking off into a giggle just loud enough to make someone in the row ahead of them turn around. Mickey nods, even though he can feel warmth climbing his cheeks to the tips of his ears, watching how the other wipes the spit from his bottom lip with his thumb. âSure itâs not âcause you want to put something else in my mouth?â
If Mickey hadnât already given himself a Pavlovian reaction to this godforsaken class that sentence alone would definitely be enough to do it.
âMaybe,â he gets out without sounding too embarrassed. He looks at Ian and finds him with the end of his pen between his teeth, tongue running along the bite marks on the end of it. Paired with the knowing smile on his lips itâs enough to give him a semi. âYou gonna do somethinâ about it, red?â
âSoon as class is over,â Ian says, grinning like heâs told a joke. Mickey feels like heâs been handed a sentence instead, checking the time on his phone and realising thereâs an hour and a half left of class.
.
The second theyâre out of the lecture hall Ianâs grinning at him all over again. Mickey chooses to ignore how his cheeks are burning in favour of rummaging around in his bag for his cigarettes.
âDonât light anything, my place is just across the street,â Ian says, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him towards the exit. Mickey raises an eyebrow.
âYouâre eager,â he comments, which makes Ian snort.
âLike you said, Iâve always got stuff in my mouth,â he replies like itâs nothing.
Ianâs place is a cramped studio, about as disorganised as any college studentâs place, but Mickey doesnât get to look around for more than a couple of seconds before Ianâs reaching for his jeans, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping them without looking. His mouth is centimetres from Mickeyâs, and even now heâs got his bottom lip between his teeth, smiling at Mickey as he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers.
âWanna sit on my bed?â he asks, even as heâs pushing Mickeyâs jeans down his legs.
âYeah, whatever,â Mickey shrugs. He couldnât care less where heâs standing or sitting as long as he finally gets to feel this guyâs fucking mouth on him. He doesnât have to worry or wait much longer because as soon as heâs siting down Ianâs got his pants around his ankles and leans forward to land an open-mouthed kiss on the head of his dick.
He doesnât start stroking him to get him hard like Mickey half-expects him to do. Instead he runs his tongue all over him, licking up along one of the veins on the side of his length and swirling his tongue around the head, flicking it against the frenulum and moving his face down to suck on his balls. He barely uses his hands and yet he has Mickeyâs dick spit-coated and hard in nearly record time.
âFeel as good as you thought it would?â he asks while heâs rubbing the slit against his lips, smearing precum across them like itâs lip gloss. Mickeyâs reminded of him doing the same thing with his lollipop in the second lecture they shared and groans.
âFuck yeah,â is all he gets out before Ian starts sucking him off in earnest and god fucking damn. All that staring did nothing to prepare Mickey for how the redhead takes him to the hilt like itâs nothing, drooling all over his dick and coming up for air with strings of spit still connecting them. Ian smiles at him with an oddly out of place schoolboy charm, and leans in to suck along the side of his cock.
His tongue is skilled, which Mickey had already figured, but the way it drags along his skin has his brain melting, first the tip tracing along every sensitive spot he can find and then pressed flat against the underside of his dick as he leans down and takes him all the way. Mickey finds himself unable to do much other than swear as Ian stays down for longer than should be possible, nose buried in his pubes as he swallows around his dick.
âMotherfucker,â Mickey grits out through clenched teeth, letting his head fall back when Ian finally comes up to breathe. Even as he catches his breath he doesnât stop, running his lips and tongue over every inch of him until heâs covered in a thick, sticky layer of saliva. It doesnât put Ian off either â if anything heâs more excited about lapping up all of the precum and spit on Mickeyâs skin.
âTell me when youâre gonna cum,â he demands suddenly, voice just a little rough, and itâs all Mickey can do not to laugh.
âAny fuckinâ second,â he admits, earning him a grin from the redhead before heâs bobbing his head again. He feels like heaven, Mickey thinks for a split second, and then his tongue is rubbing right against his frenulum and good fucking God. He moans embarrassingly loud and Ian seems to get the cue because he pulls up just in time to catch every spurt of cum on his tongue.
Mickey watches, captivated like he always is by Ianâs mouth, as the redhead used the head of his dick to spread cum evenly over his lips and then licks it all away and swallows.
âHoly shit,â he breathes. âYouâre fuckinâ good at that.â
Ian shrugs, sitting back and taking a deep breath. Mickey keeps watching for a moment, notices how for the first time since heâs seen him his mouth stays totally still. No lip licking or biting, no fingertip stuck between his teeth to chew on. Heâs surprised â pleasantly or otherwise, heâs not sure.
âHow come youâre always putting shit in your mouth anyway?â he asks. The question instantly has Ianâs tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip.
âItâs an anxiety thing. Nervous tic or something,â he says, looking flustered for the first time. Mickey smirks.
âYou stopped doing it for a minute there, yâknow,â he states, and watches as his freckled cheeks turn pink.
âYeah, well donât get ahead of yourself, we havenât been on a date or anything,â he says with a smile, getting up and throwing a towel in Mickeyâs direction.
Mickey stifles a laugh. At least he knows what heâs asking him next lecture.
#shameless fanfiction#shameless fic#gallavich fic#gallavich smut#ian gallagher smut#mickey milkovich smut
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