#will this turn into something bigger? who fuckin knows man
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serotonin machine broke. here's 600 words of wedding planner steve and wedding singer eddie.
“So what do you think?”
When he first started in this industry a decade ago, as a bright eyed and bushy tailed twenty-something who still believed love could conquer all, Steve would have never entertained a game like this.
The reception hall is a glistening wonderland of whites and blues. The ice sculpture in the corner - two swans whose necks form a perfect heart and whose beaks meet in the middle to share a kiss - frames the cake and the snowglobe topper just like Steve had envisioned it would. The centerpieces that adorn the tables glitter beneath the chandeliers like freshly fallen snow. There are no screaming children, none of the guests are wearing white, and the ceremony had gone off without a hitch.
Overall, a perfect night.
Of course it is. Steve planned it. He’s very good at what he does.
The maid of honor is giving a speech.
Steve is at the bar with the wedding singer, a guy whose name constantly escapes him until the happy couple he’s working with tell him they’d like a live band for the wedding, and then it’s I know the perfect group, let me give you Eddie’s contact information.
This is something they do sometimes when they work a wedding together; speculate on the destiny of the couple at the center of this whole ostentatious shindig.
“Give ‘em a few years, I think,” Steve says with a shrug, still surveying the fruits of his labors.
Eddie makes a considering noise. “That long? Awful optimistic, even for you.”
Steve shrugs. “They seem pretty in tune with each other. Support each other’s ideas. They agreed on the cake without even having to discuss it. He was involved from the beginning.”
“I sense a but here.”
Steve sucks at his mixed drink through the shitty little plastic straw.
“I clocked the way he and the best man have been looking at each other all night.”
Eddie clicks his tongue, takes a deep pull from his glass of light beer.
“Maybe he’s trying to find them a third for their wedding night,” Eddie suggests.
“Kinky.”
Over the past few years, Steve’s become disillusioned with it. The whole thing. He can count on one hand the number of couples he’s planned weddings for that are still together. Love doesn’t conquer anything, no matter how much money you throw at it to make it just right. People cheat, people are dishonest, people get themselves into debt and hide it from their partner.
He used to be a real hopeless romantic in his early days, but something about this industry has dulled that fire in him.
Robin says he’s become a cynic. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it’s just the institution of marriage. He doesn’t buy into it anymore. He’s watched enough marriages come together and fall apart, he’s seen fights happen at receptions, watched brides weep into their champagne, watched grooms shove cake into brides’ faces even after explicitly being begged not to. People just don’t care about each other like they should when they make the decision to get married. They don’t take it seriously.
Steve’s never going to let himself go down that road.
Robin says he wouldn’t know true love if it came up and bit him on the ass.
He doesn’t even know if he believes in love anymore.
Beside him, the wedding singer is sighing and knocking back the last of his beer. At the head table, the best man is finishing his speech. The groom is hugging him. They linger.
“I give it four months,” says Eddie. “Six on the outside.”
Steve looks over at him. Big brown eyes smile back. Eddie winks and goes back to the stage, where his band is waiting for his return.
Steve watches as he picks his guitar back up and offers up some scripted line about the sweetness of love, calls a toast to the bride and groom, and then he launches into the opening chords of some Marvin Gaye song he’s played at every wedding they’ve worked together.
#bee's blurbs#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things fic#will this turn into something bigger? who fuckin knows man
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Hello! Could you write something where reader and rafe are together for a while and completely obsessed with each other.. one day someone new to the island makes a negative comment about them and rafe hears about it
got a couple hurt/comfort requests so here u go xxx
‧₊🫧꒷꒦‧₊˚⋆
— laughter and embers from the log fire filled the air, comfortable sounds of waves crashing mixed with chatter, from everyone, from all sides of the island could be heard. and it made your heart swell.
but not nearly as much as the sight of your ever so gloomy boyfriend smiling; that’s right ladies and gentleman, rafe cameron had a smile on his face, a rare sight to behold. and it only made yours bigger, so much so that your cheeks hurt.
you sat comfortably on his lap, strong arms keeping you in places while he conversed with the other kooks, occasionally pressing the odd kiss to your shoulder, until you excused yourself. “m’gonna get another drink, want one?” you cooed, raking your manicured nails through the tiny growth of his buzzed hair. “m’all good kid, hold on— i’ll come with you”
after a minor dispute, nothing harmful, just his usual protectiveness kicking in, he finally agreed to let you go alone, seeing as it was ‘only over there’ you’d whined. you were a big girl, you could do things by yourself.
and you did, and yet, you’d come back sniffling. “hey—hey! c’mere, what’s wrong?” rafe almost shouted, heart beating at the sight of you, mascara smeared around your under eyes, nose red from running. shaking your head, you snuggled into his chest, desperately avoiding his prying gaze, yet only managed to draw more attention. “use your words alright? can’t help if i don’t know what’s going on kid” he sighed, pulling you from his chest and taking your chin in his hand.
“c-called me a stuck up bitch” you spluttered, struggling to catch your breath while rafe’s caught in his throat. it was like a switch, something going off in his mind as the words left your mouth. “who? tell me who angel”
“jj— he stopped me at the drinks bar”
“maybank, course it was fuckin’ maybank” he muttered, hands squeezing your face scarily tight, causing you to wince. “shit, m’sorry kid” he hummed, pressing a hard kiss to your chin before standing up, placing you in his warmed seat. “top— c’mon man, kelce— you keep an eye on her, alright?” he instructed, eyes avoiding your tearful gaze, not wanting your sweet little pout to distract him from what was about to go down.
“no—no rafe! please, jus’ sit with me, s’fine” you cried out, reaching for his arm as he began pulling away. turning back round, he knelt to your level— taking your face between his palms.
“listen angel, i love you— i really do, and that’s why he can’t get away with this, m’kay?”
#ʚ♡ɞ ☁: elle’s dreams#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron#outerbanks rafe#obx#rafecameron#rafe obx#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron blurb
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Alone with you.
pairing: Michael Gavey x f Felix's friend group!reader
word count: 5k
warnings: smut, fluff before smut, p in v, virginity loss, unsafe sex, mentions of pornography, lots of awkwardness, lowkey slut shaming, hookup themes, michael's hefty ego, 18+
a/n im actually posting? whaaaaat? today was a snow day, enjoy the snowy smut I wrote for my fav today ;)
summary Y/N watched Michael get rejected by Oliver in the bar and couldn't handle that sad look on his face.
masterlist
tik tok- @almondtarg4ryen
c.ai- @mj1218
read time: 18 mins 31 seconds
The mere look on this stranger’s face was enough to make Y/N’s gut roll. The sheer and utter disappointment of losing the company of… Oliver Quick? THE Oliver that had hung out with her group a few times, the Oliver that nobody wanted to sit with. She glared at Oliver as he sat down, his eyes were immediately fixated on none other than Felix. Y/N rolled her eyes as she looked at Oliver, but then her eyes flicked back up to the tall stranger. His face had faltered and his tiny wave was close to heartbreaking. Absolutely not.
Y/N stood, and Farleigh grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?” he asked, as he noticed your gaze on this mysterious stranger just moments ago.
“Away.” She shrugged off Farleigh’s touch, Farleigh gave her a look of confusion as he noticed her sudden demeanor of change. Y/N grabbed her coat and purse, storming out of the bar.
“The fuck is her problem?” Felix asked, noticing you leaving. Farleigh shrugged. “Fuckin’ tweaking over Gavey.”
Y/N ran out into the snow, it had definitely picked up since she and her friends had entered the bar nearly fifteen minutes ago. She saw the man walking, his shoulders slumped as his long lanky legs strode through the snow. “Hey!”
He didn’t turn around, as Michael would never expect a ‘hey’ to be for him. It wasn’t until she caught up to his side, that she caught his attention.
“Oy! Are you deaf?”
Michael stopped. He squinted in his fogged-up glasses, wiping them off just to make sure he had the sight in front of him correct. Y/N L/N? He quickly tried to compose himself, trying to make it obvious that he wasn’t just crying. As he wiped his glasses, he made a subtle wiping of tears that wasn’t as subtle as he would like it to be. He watched her face fall.
“Oh… no,” Y/N spoke softly, which was different from her tone just seconds ago when she tried to flag him down. “You don’t know me, but I’m Y/N.”
Of course Michael knew her. He psychoanalyzed almost everyone and everything in his surroundings, and she sat in the front of one of his boring gen-ed reading classes. He judged her on the first day he met her, as she sat next to Farleigh and they constantly snickered with each other during class. He had a distaste for the American, as Michael was convinced that his ego could have possibly been the only one bigger than his. Her sympathetic and sweet voice caught him off guard, Michael's face stiffened at first, but he soon realized that it was in his best interest to play dumb and not sound like a creep.
“Oh, right. Y/N from Felix’s group. What do you want?” Michael said with a distaste for her presence. “For you to look at me.” Y/N replied as Michael’s eyes couldn’t meet hers on the snowy street. “And why should I do that?” he snapped at her a bit, she knew exactly how to deal with closed-off people like him. Something about this man intrigued her, she didn’t even know his name.
“Because,” she smiled a bit, trying to guide herself into his line of sight. “Fuck ‘em.”
Michael was confused. What did she mean Fuck ‘em? Those were her friends, was this some sort of setup? A dare to go after the loser? “Excuse me?” he asked, his defenses keeping a stable tone.
“Fuck. Them.” she said confidently. Her attitude intrigued her. “Aren't those your friends?”
Y/N shrugged. “Sort of. Definitely not Oliver though,” she cringed at the thought of the weird little man. “Please tell me you are not crying over Oliver fucking Quick, random man whose name I do not know. ” she rolled her eyes, her voice was sympathetic but yet sarcastic.
“No, I wasn’t. And my name’s Michael.”
“Yes you were, Michael.” she replied quickly.
Michael sighed. He liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, it was definitely something he would be revisiting and replaying in his head during his nightly session alone this evening. He still didn’t like her. He didn’t have to like her to think she was hot, she was definitely wanking material. Even if she did seem like a stuck-up brat to him.
“You know, if you’re just here to make me feel worse, could you just bug off and go back and tell your stupid little friends that you successfully made me feel worse and–”
She looked genuinely offended, it’s what made Michael’s sentence suddenly falter. “Is that really all you think I am? Some… some bimbo who just sticks around for a chance to make someone’s night more obviously worse than it already is?”
Michael was speechless. Did she truly have good intentions? He didn’t know what to say back, he was genuinely taken back by what she had said. “I don’t get it… why are you being nice to me?” Michael breathed out, his breath imitating smoke because it was so cold. “Because I hated that look on your face.” she replied bluntly. Michael then realized she wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Michael began to feel bad about his former thoughts about her, guilty for just seeing her as some idiot who would purposely hurt someone. But wasn’t she? To him, she seemed like a bitch.
Michael stared at her with a puzzled expression, he couldn't imagine why anyone would feel sorry for him. Her sympathy is starting to make him uncomfortable. “Thanks?” he said with a questioning tone. “Oliver’s quite a weird bloke,” she said plainly. This made Michael chuckle. It was one of the things he originally liked about Oliver, is that he didn’t mind his weirdness and strange habits and quirks. If she didn’t like Oliver’s strange demeanor, his was much worse. Why was she sticking around?
“He’s got some sort of weird man crush on Felix. Nobody can figure out if he wants to be him, fuck him, or both.” Y/N spoke like she knew exactly what she was talking about. Her confidence was uncanny. Michael was taken aback by her confidence and her statement. Was his friend, or former friend now, truly in love with Felix Catton? Wasn’t everybody? He certainly wasn’t, and from the tone of this girl, she didn’t appreciate at least his friend group very much. “Weird man crush? What do you mean? Are you trying to say that Oliver is... gay?”
“He could be,” she shrugged, the snow began to let up. “No hate if he is. I just kind of assumed, I guess that’s not very correct but…” Y/N shrugged once again, trying not to sound too judgy or prejudiced. She truly wasn’t and didn’t want him getting the wrong impression of her. Michael makes a face expressing disbelief and surprise. “You're kidding me. Oliver...gay? Oliver can't even talk to other girls. Are you sure you're talking about the same Oliver?”
“That’s probably why he can’t talk to girls.” she pointed out. Michael was a genius, he should have put two and two together with his friend. Perhaps his intelligence didn’t correlate with his social skills. Y/N noticed this, knowing he was quite an awkward dude. With the liquid courage in her, she asked him one more question.
“May I?”
The snow fell around them as he furrowed his brows in confusion. “Uh… sure?” He didn’t expect her to grab his hand, suddenly running through the square and through campus. They both didn’t notice Felix’s whole group watching them through the window with the most confused faces ever and frankly, neither one of them cared to look back at that stupid pub.
“Hey! Wait!” he yelled out, her little legs moved surprisingly fast for her height. She ran back towards campus, and within at least a minute or two Michael was huffing for air. “S-slow down!”
She stopped running but kept her hand in his. They were in the middle of the courtyard that was empty, the only disturbance in the fresh snow was their footprints.
“Do you want to do something fun?” she asked, smiling as she looked up at him. Her smile, the dim lighting, how sweetly she spoke… Michael could nearly melt on the spot. He couldn’t help being amazed by your boldness. Felix's group is full of girls with the same vain and superficial personality, the opposite of you, but you seem pretty unique. “Fun? But what would we do? It's too late for the cinema, and it's probably going to keep snowing all night.” Michael wondered. “You just said it.” She replied, making Michael even more confused. He just said it?
“Do you mean play in the snow?” he asked her, looking down at her as the small periodic flakes moved about.
Y/N needed a way to crack his awkward tone, get him comfortable with her, and save his night. It was hoped that she would make a new friend, but she wasn’t quite sure yet. She nodded, answering his question. He must think I’m nuts, she thought to herself. A sudden wave of embarrassment came over her, she was about to just apologize for the stupid suggestion when he spoke.
“O-okay.”
Her face lit up, she truly hadn’t played in the snow since she was a child. Even though she had just met him, she felt safe with him. He was creepy by all means, but something about him intrigued her, possibly attracted him to her. She took his hand and pulled him to the ground with him, she giggled as he looked unimpressed. “Really?” he said annoyed, but her smile was enough to excuse her childish behavior. She laid down and began to make a snow angel. Michael looked at her like she was some foreign specimen in a museum. What on earth is she doing? What if someone saw them?
“Come on Mikey!” she cheered, having the time of her life flailing her limbs in the snow. How she said Mikey nearly drove him crazy, her voice was one he could never forget even if they never saw each other again after today. Reluctantly, he laid down next to her in the snow and made a snow angel. Michael felt stupid for falling in the snow like a little kid, but the idea of making a snow angel with another person in the middle of the night was exciting to him. Your smile fills him with joy. He wasn’t as enthusiastic as her, but he gave in to her strange demand. Michael would never admit it, but he was secretly having the time of his life.
Y/N stood after she finished her snow angel, Michael didn’t notice it at first until she pulled out her little camera and took a flash picture of her snow angel and him on the ground next to it. Michael stood up–why did she take a picture? “Delete that.”
“Make me,” she smirked, taking another sudden flash picture of his face as he sat up. “Do you usually take pictures of strangers or am I just lucky?” he asked, pursing his lips in annoyance and adding that sarcastic bit at the end. She didn’t notice his annoyance at all or just chose to ignore it. “You’re just lucky. And you’re not a stranger anymore.” Y/N snickered and began to walk off. Michael, of course, followed her. Her comment about no longer being a stranger to her made him smirk softly. The gall of this girl. Michael rolled his eyes and tried to snatch the camera away from her, but she was too quick to put it in her pocket. “Do you plan on taking a million pictures of me now? Because I'm starting to feel a little self-conscious.”
“Why? You’re a pretty man,” she spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he was an idiot for questioning it. That compliment took Michael completely off guard. He froze in his tracks and stared at you, his face immediately turning red and his mouth opened slightly.
“What?” Y/N chuckled, expecting his reaction. Watching him squirm was just so much fun for her. “Wait... What did you say?” Michael questioned, his tone shaky due to his nerves and the cold. He thought now that he must have misheard her.
“I said you’re a pretty man.” she replied, like he was stupid for not understanding her attraction to him. In reality, her confidence was just to hide the feelings of feeling a bit rejected.
Michael stared at her in disbelief, he couldn’t believe the words she just said. Her sudden compliment makes him feel even more self-conscious, his cheeks red and his heart beating much faster. He can barely believe his ears. “You cannot be serious. I am not pretty. It's obvious that I'm not, I don't know why you're trying to make fun of me.”
“Make fun of you?” she asked seriously. “Never.”
Michael noticed her shiver, he still couldn’t get over that someone from Felix Catton’s friend group had called him pretty. This whole evening was a fever dream to him. “Never?” he asked.
“Never,” she confirmed. The two began to walk together around the cold campus in silence for a bit, until Michael spoke up. He was getting cold as well as she was. “So, what's next on our list of silly things to do?” he asked, feeling a bit of an ego boost from her words. “I’m getting cold. We could either stay here and build a snowman… or go back to my dorm?”
His eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“Y-your dorm? Is it close?” he asked. She nodded. “Mhm.” The way she hummed her lips as she spoke made Michael’s stomach flutter. Michael can't help but stare at her when she suddenly says that, the heat rises to his cheeks again, it feels so weird that he is on a snowy night alone with the girl from Felix's group and she asks you to go to her room. “Are... Are you serious? You really want to... To go to your room?” he asked, waiting for her to tell him that she was joking. But she never did. “I am fucking freezing my tits off. Please?” she whined. The mere mention of her tits made him gulp and somehow sweat in this cold weather. He was taken aback by her unexpected choice of words and replied politely. “Okay, yeah. I guess it is a little cold.” he chuckled, stating the obvious as it was well into the negatives. Y/N took Michael’s hand once again, like it was almost second nature, and showed him across campus this time. Michael was thankful she didn’t run this time, he still felt out of breath from that sudden jog earlier. Michael smiles at how impulsive she is, as he lets her take his hand and pull him across campus, the cold biting their faces and their breath rising as they walk through the streets. Although it seems a little weird to Michael to go with her to her room, he can't help but feel happy to have found Y/N on a night as terrible as this one has been up until now.
They reached her dorm. She unlocked it and opened the door, escaping the coldness. She went and flicked on a lamp as Michael entered the single-roomed dorm. Michael stares at her dorm once she switches on the lamp. The place looks cozy and elegant and Michael can't help but wonder what a pretty girl like you lives alone, away from her friends. Michael starts to ask a question, to be a little flirty with you, thinking you may be embarrassed. “So... Do you always bring guys home on such snowy nights? I think that you're supposed to wait for at least three days... You're not really making it easy for me here.” She took his coat. “Huh?” Michael can't help but be amused at the idea that you took his coat from his hands without asking, but he lets you take it and replies in a playful tone. “I was referring to our romantic moment here, you know, there's supposed to be a three-day rule before bringing a guy home. Otherwise, I'll think you're desperate.”
Y/N made a bit of a face at his egotistical words, Michael was borderline calling her a whore. She decided to mess with him a bit. “Who said this was a romantic moment?”
Michael felt his heart skip a beat. He softly bit his bottom lip in embarrassment, leaning against the chair of her desk. “I–I… uhm…”
Y/N laughed, approaching him and draping his arms around his shoulders. “I’m fucking with you,” she said teasingly, looking up into his gaze. Michael felt himself immediately relax as he swallowed, letting out a deep breath followed by an awkward chuckle. Michael felt a sudden wave of heat spread to his body when she wrapped her arms around his neck. When she was so close like this, he could feel her body heat radiating off of her and felt the cold receding little by little. “You’re calling me desperate…?” she playfully accused him, cocking her head a bit. “Would you say you're desperate then?” he replied, trying to shake off his shock at her previous answer that rendered him awkward. Y/N chuckled. “Hun. Me? Desperate?” There was a pause. “Are you desperate?”
Her smirk was enough to melt him. Michael can't help but feel amused at her attitude. He leaned his face closer to hers as he replied, while his sudden hand on her waist drew her closer to him. “Desperate? Why would I be desperate? I'm the one here with the pretty girl in my arms.”
She hummed a bit, looking into his eyes with a soft smirk. “You think I’m pretty?” she asked, it felt like a joke to Michael when she asked that. She was one of the prettiest girls on campus in his opinion. Her face was so geometrically perfect in a mathematical sense that it made Michael wonder what her parents had to have looked like. She didn’t look like one who would mess around with plastic surgery, even at such a young age. Michael smirked as he leaned his face even closer to hers, with one hand now caressing her cheek and looking her right in the eyes directly. She can hardly breathe with your lips barely inches away from his.
“I think you’re fucking gorgeous,” he spoke seriously, his words bouncing off his lips and onto hers. Michael's smirk deepens as he leans even closer, just a few inches from her smooth lips, and his voice lowers. “May I?” he asked, reiterating her question from earlier in the evening when she asked for his hand to pull him away from the pub. She answered by kissing him, her lips touching his. She could tell he was a bit inexperienced, but he kept up with the pace nicely. It was almost like he was eager to learn. Michael instantly froze when she kissed him so softly, so perfectly. He suddenly felt that his heart was beating like crazy. He closed his eyes and kissed her, pulling her even closer, feeling both her body warmth and the kiss against his lips. She could see a little excitement in his eyes when he finally broke the kiss.
“Have you ever done this before?” Y/N asked sweetly, not trying to embarrass him. She just wanted an honest answer, not to tease him. “Never. Not really. I never had such a pretty girl come into my life and kiss me like you did. Are you asking me if I'm experienced or not?”
Michael felt like he had won when he saw her true blush rise to her cheeks, they were no longer red from the cold. “I don’t mean to be rude but… are you?” she asked hesitantly, making sure to ask with utmost care and to sound as sincere as she could. Michael is surprised by her bluntness, but this is exactly why he likes her, her personality is completely opposite to Oliver's vapid friends. He's so impressed by her that he decides to be direct, he doesn't want to hide anything from you now. “Well, if you must know, I... I don't have a lot of experience with women. To be perfectly honest with you, no one has ever cared enough to kiss me until now.”
Y/N pouted her lip a bit in a sweet way, brushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “Awwe, Mikey.”
Michael is so moved by the way she called him ‘Mikey’ and touched his hair. That made him completely lose his composure. He feels a surge of emotion as you look at him intently, and even without realizing it, his face gets very close to yours. His hands move on their own, caressing the beautiful face in front of him, and he can't help but whisper softly. “What you said…” Michael took a deep breath, feeling a bit embarrassed to admit this. “You're the first–first girl t-to care about me like that and to kiss me like that.”
Y/N smiled. She felt special to be his first kiss, even if she kind of expected him to be inexperienced. It was then that she decided he was it. She didn’t need her rich, egotistical friends. All she needed was her bratty boy who stood right in front of her. “I find that hard to believe since you’re such a pretty boy.” she smirked, again enjoying watching him squirm. Michael smiled softly and answered in a teasing tone. “Do you want this as much as I do?”
He felt himself using the joking spin on his tone to make it easy for her to back out, he hadn’t realized she was head over heels for him already. He wouldn’t for a very long time, in fact. The sheer thought that a girl as pretty as her would even look his way seemed like divine intervention.
“Of course I do.” she smiled, kissing him again. This time though, he led her over to her bed, not breaking the kiss as she sat down on her bed. “You kinda know what you’re doing.” she tried to give him some props, to make him a bit more comfortable. Michael chuckled softly and his face blushed a little as she said that, he replied in a playful tone, but he couldn't hide the nervous tone in his voice. “Heh, it's just instinct. I think it would be hard not to know a little bit about this considering your beauty. It's hard to not keep my hands off you.”
Again, he made her blush and he was in bliss.
“Instinct or the internet?” she smirked, pushing him down on her bed. His eyes grew wide as she did, he felt his heart nearly burst out of his chest. Michael blushed again when she began to tease him into oblivion. The softness of the covers makes him feel extremely cozy and the warmth of her body feels like heaven. He looks at you and answers your teasing tone. “Okay, maybe I'm a little bit of a pervert and maybe I watched a few adult videos before... But it's also instinct.”
She chuckled at his formality, saying ‘adult videos’ instead of porn. She smirked as she replied, having now sat on his thighs. “That’s adorable.” Y/N began to pull at his shirt. Michael's face is completely red at this point, she can see how he is lost in his emotions and her touch feels so good that he is completely distracted. Y/N can see how he leans his body forward as you pull his shirt off with both hands, enjoying the warmth of his skin being touched. He closes his eyes and whispers softly. “I-If this is what it feels like to be with a gorgeous girl like you, then I wish it happened to me much earlier.”
The praise this boy was giving her was already making her wet. She didn’t know if he was doing it intentionally or not, but she loved being worshiped by him. She had never felt this from any other man, Michael was the first to truly feel like he was honored to be under her will. Y/N quickly threw off her shirt, leaving her in her favorite bra. Michael couldn’t believe he was going to see boobs in real life for the first time. He could not believe his situation right now, as she was the prettiest girl in Felix's group, he never imagined that you would pull him to your room in the middle of a snowy night, and much less that you would strip him right there on your bed. He had now seemingly lost his pants, leaving him in his boxers. When your hands move to pull his boxers off, Michael's breath catches in his throat and all he can do is look at you and admire that beautiful body of yours which is so close now.
“Wait,” he spoke quietly. “Let me just look.”
His hand moved to her waist, taking in her body like a goddess. Y/N turned red.
“No, please don’t be embarrassed,” Michael spoke caringly, he felt terrible for making her turn red. “Y-you’re just the most perfect creature I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”
Y/N could have melted from his words. And in his praise she smiled, letting her bra fall from her chest and threw it on the floor. Michael’s hands moved to the bottom of her breast, not touching it yet. His thumb rested under it, wrapping the rest of his hand around the side of her chest and to her back. He softly moved his thumb back and forth on her chest, avoiding her breast. “Can I?” he asked respectfully. Y/N nodded, smiling at his innocence and how much he even respected her to ask if he could touch her.
His hand touched her breast and he let out a little whimper. His glasses were completely fogged. “My god,” he said in awe, brushing his thumb against her nipple. She didn’t expect him to be this enthralled by her. For his good behavior, she leaned her bare chest on his, using it as a balance as she slid off her jeans, leaving her in only her panties. She felt Michael gulp. “Are you okay?”
Michael nodded fervently. “Yes, yes perfect.” he stuttered a bit, pushing his glasses up on his face. She kissed him, her hands moving to his tiny waist as she used her tongue for the first time to kiss him, he moaned into her lips. She pulled away and chuckled. “You’re fucking adorable,” she said, pulling his boxers down now.
She sighed as she felt his cock move against her underwear, Michael nearly shot up in bed. She chuckled. “Is everything okay?”
His glasses now crooked, he could barely speak. She grinded a bit on his hard cock, eliciting a noise from him Michael didn’t even know he could make. He nodded.
“P-please…” he whimpered. Y/N didn’t know if she wanted to be straightforward or tease him a bit. He looked so needy, so desperate as one of his hands moved to her waist. “I’m begging you–”
She moved her panties to the side, letting the head of his cock move through her wet folds. He nearly busted a nut right then and there. He moaned like no other, almost like he was in pain. But it was quite the opposite. “Do you want it?” she asked him, appeasing herself and teasing him slightly. She sighed, rolling her head back as the tip of his cock swiped past her clit.
“Yes! Yes! God, yes, more than anything, please.” he begged, trying his hardest not to move her hips and just push himself into her. She finally gave in to his demands, letting herself sink down onto his cock. He pushed his head back, barely breathing as she moved slowly on top of him, his breath caught as she began to ride him. “S-so good…”
She felt his cock push against her g-spot almost immediately, which was strange as she didn’t get a good look at it before. He was surprisingly large. She moaned as it made contact, pressing her hand down on his chest. “Ohhh, baby.” she spoke softly, leaning her head back. Michael’s gaze snapped back up to her, watching her ride his cock. He felt himself growing close already, as she had already been riding him for nearly a minute. He was in ultimate bliss, watching her bounce on his cock.
“I can’t–!” Michael mumbled. He suddenly realized that he was going in raw, and he was about to cum.
“It’s okay, Mikey. It’s safe.” she could barely speak, as she would explain later that she was on birth control. As she called him ‘Mikey’ again, it was the final push. He grunted as he came, pulling her down on top of him as he did. She didn’t expect this aggressiveness, but understood his need for her. He buried his head in her shoulder as he moaned, pumping his cock into her slowly for a last few times, she felt him kiss her neck. “S’good,” she spoke, pretending to cum with him. Even though it was pleasurable for her, she didn’t cum as quickly as him. She didn’t want to ruin his ego, so she gave him the illusion of faking it. But she wasn’t worried. This wasn’t the last time this would ever happen, he had plenty of other times to make her cum.
He slowly soaked in her, holding her body against his trembling one. Michael was in shock, not being able to believe what just happened. He had no clue his night would end up like this, and he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Who knew Oliver Quick abandoning him at a pub was the best thing that ever happened to him?
She slowly rolled off of him, squishing against the wall in their very limited space on the dormitory’s bed. Y/N chortled when she saw Michael’s face, his glasses were even more crooked and he looked like he had just seen god. “You alright?”
“More than alright, actually.” he spoke out, breathing heavily. She moved a blanket over the two, as the cold was seeping in from her window. She nuzzled up against his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “I’m glad I got this time alone with you.”
As she said that, Michael knew he had completely fallen for this girl and he would never let her go. How she cared for him, how she spoke, and just the whole events of that evening had made him want to start saving money for a ring.
#peterparkersnose#peterparkersnosework#michael gavey#ewan mitchell#michael gavey x reader#michael gavey fanfiction#michael gavey fanfic#michael saltburn#saltburn#saltburn spoiler#ewan mitchell fanfic#ewan mitchell crumbs#oliver quick#felix catton#farleigh catton#venetia catton#elsbeth catton#saltburn fanfiction#michael gavey smut#michael gavey fluff#michael gavey angst#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#barry keoghan#aemond targaryen fanfiction#michael gavey imagine#michael gavey oneshot#michael gavey one shot#house of the dragon season 2#aemond targaryen x reader
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SOMETHING WATCHFUL !!! DANIEL R. X FEM!READER (18+)
summary: he finally understood why she loved her shithole of a flat so much.
content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, pwp, mirror sex, mentions of exhibitionism/voyeurism (suggestions of the grid watching), size kink, praise kink, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, my man danny ric is filthy asf
note: i blacked out while writing this so whatever i wrote in here i’ve no control over. enjoy xx
something sinful (smut) masterlist
a - n masterlist
o - z masterlist
the ceiling mirrors were installed in her room out of pure joy. she enjoyed creative photography and had often taken photos of herself — the creativity coming straight from the mirrors as she had no one to have her photos taken of but herself.
daniel ricciardo loved it. he loved her independence and cozy little flat — though he kept convincing her to move into a bigger place. she deserved so much more than this shitbox, but she insisted that she needed to earn more money before buying a better place. her independence was what drove him insane.
all he wanted was to treat her like a queen— one that she deserved to see herself as.
and that was how she ended up leaning against him, her legs spread wide open and her head leaning back against his chest. his tattooed arm kept her lightly strained while his hand held her chin up to face their reflections, gripping it gently whenever her eyes would shut close thanks to the pleasure brought by the fingers that slowly fucked her.
she heaved a sigh, feeling too overstimulated from previous orgasms he’d given her who knows when. her body limped against him while her hand tried grabbing onto his, only for him to tut quietly and smack her cunt slightly.
“don’t you fucking dare touch,” he warned her quietly.
“‘s too much, danny,” she cried quietly, her eyes closing tightly as she squirmed. yet her walls clenched around his fingers when they slid back in. her moan protested against the words she just uttered.
“but y’look so fuckin’ beautiful like this, doll,” he teased her, his mouth nibbling on her ear as he tapped her chin. watching her open her eyes, he then praised her, “see? a fuckin’ beaut is what you are. can’t believe i’m allowing you to live in a shithole like this.”
“you deserve so much better than this, princess,” daniel continued to speak, grinning breathlessly when she squealed at the curling of his fingers.
the sounds of squelching of her cunt filled the small space as she watched his fingers disappear inside her, partially watching in disbelief at how much he’s filling her. those were just his fingers. she couldn’t imagine how his cock looked when he’s fucking her with it. it was too big.
“‘s it because of these mirrors, doll?” he asked although she couldn’t answer anymore. her brain was turning hazy from the overstimulation, sending her to a certain state of pleasure as he continued to taunt her, “you like watching yourself touch this pretty cunt of yours, huh, baby? ‘s that why you wouldn’t move?”
not receiving an answer from her, his dark eyes watched her reflection squirm away from his touch.
he continued to smile widely, his fingers now curling and hitting the spot as he increased his pace and began fucking her rigorously. “if you want to see yourself look all pretty getting fucked like this you could have just asked me, baby.”
“you know that i can’t refuse my princess,” he hummed, vibrations on her back making her cry out and babble inaudibly.
“danny, mmmm~ ‘s too much,” she didn’t even notice that tears were beginning to form, her sight turning blurry while she watched his fingers fill her hole like they were meant to be there. “too- too much, i- hah~ ngh~ fuck danny!”
“yes, i know princess,” he cooed in her ear quietly, his gentle voice contrasting with the way he fucked her as he murmured, “you’ve more in you, baby, let it go. doin’ so good f’me. let go~”
daniel’s eyes gleamed in excitement watching her cunt drench his fingers with pleasure. she soaked his fingers, and her sheets were covered with her pleasure as she came for the third time tonight— all from his fingers.
her body that once convulsed reacted when his mouth slipped in his tongue inside hers, already too fucked out and sensitive as she moaned quietly. “so fuckin’ good f’me, princess.”
she hadn’t expected him to continue on with the night as she let out a squeal, her legs being hoisted up by him as he leaned back and slid his cock inside her without a problem.
“i- danny, want more-“ she babbled, her head tipping over to watch the ceiling mirrors as she witnessed her cunt sinking into his thick cock. she moaned at the sight, already clenching around him. she really loved the sight of him bulging in her stomach— that and the filthy words that slip out of his mouth as his hips moved up and down to fuck her.
“god! you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he growled from under her, meeting her eyes over the ceiling mirrors while he chased his climax and hers. “y’like watching huh?”
“yes!” she cried out, his cock hitting the spot as she spoke. “love your cock, love you s’much!”
“such a pretty girl,” daniel said, “i fuckin love watchin’ you writhing, baby— wish everyone in the fuckin’ grid can see you— d’ya know how much they wanna fuck you?”
feeling her clench at the comment, danny chuckled and thrusted up at her, “oh- ya like that, hm? you wan’ them to see me fuck you?”
she only uttered a moan, sinking down to meet his thrust halfway through.
“you like that huh?” he taunted her, “maybe next time we should make them watch and have them realize that nobody can make you feel like this but me.”
“they won’t be happy that it’s not them fuckin’ you, baby. i’m sure we can both agree that no one can fuck you like this but me— and i’ll make sure they know that.”
a queen was what she was. if daniel could only, he’d show everyone in the grid that she deserved to be treated like one— and he’d show them all how to treat her like one.
but for now, he needed to fuck her like a queen then install a ceiling mirror in his place in monaco if they both liked to watch him fuck her like this.
#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#formula one#formula one smut#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo smut#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo#rbr#f1 smut#formula one fanfiction#formula one x reader#danny ric x reader#daniel ricciardo au#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo fanfic
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Shouldn't Have Shared (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader)
A/N: Following up my previous post LOL. This is also not proof read, I was listing to a documentary and listening to music in the background of writing. I didn't intend for this to be so long, but I kinda got lost in writing this.
GENRE: Smut
Summary: 'CAUTION! Do not share or this man will appear in your room!' is what the post said. Of course, it was just a hoax.. wasn't it? Sharing it to feed into your obsession for this fictional man from a video game, you're woken up to a pleasant surprise.
Warnings: Unprotected sex, creampie, overly possessive Ghost, primal, mentions of claiming and ruining.
Word Count: 1009
NSFW UNDER CUT
Masterlist here!
***************
Rustle... rustle, rustle...
Stirring in your sleep, you could feel something was.. off. You felt the air tensing around you, becoming hyperaware of your breathing and heartbeat as you began to wake up from your slumber. Opening your eyes and rubbing the sleep from them, you turned away from the wall only to see the shadow of a large man staring right down at you. Your life almost flashed before your eyes.
Feeling your heart stop, you let a loud shriek of terror at the unexpected silhouette. Sitting up quickly, you push yourself to the corner of your bed, your body working on autopilot as you pegged one of your stuffed animals at him.
You could see the little stuffy you threw bouncing off from his chest, hearing him chuckling under his breath.
"Gonna take a lot more than a stuffed lamb to take me out."
You'd recognise that voice from anywhere.
Holy shit.
Turning on the lamp of your bedside table, you finally got a look at the mystery man standing at the edge of your bed. Eyes adjusting to the light, your eyes widened at the realisation.
"Easy, love, no need to be frightened. It's just me. You know who I am, don't you?" Taking another step, he bent over and leaned his palms into the plush edge of your bed, allowing you to get a closer look at him.
Hmm, blond eyelashes. Cute. Full gear... hot. You nodded, swallowing. He was so much bigger in person. Over a screen you couldn't properly picture yourself next to him, but now that he was up close, it was jarring.
"Good, of course you do."
Slowly, he crouched down and picked up the soft toy, throwing it back next to you. Hearing his voice in person, you couldn't help but shudder as you stared in awe. He was so close, so close to you. If this was going to end in any of the ways you've fantasised about, it was going to end with-
"Tell me, sweetheart, did my character on a screen do me justice, or am I even more striking in person?" he smirked, his voice lingering with an arrogance which would make you gag if it were any other man.
He was real... and damned cocky too.
You hadn't said any words yet, and he noticed your silence, his head tilting as he was almost kneeling on your bed at this point.
"Answer me, lovie."
"Yes."
"You're good at listening, aren't you?" He continued, his voice low in just the right way to send a shiver down your spine. "Now tell me something else, you've always wanted more than just pixels on a screen. You've played the game, you've fantasised, you've shared."
Fuck.
"Fuckin' cheeky for sharing that knowing I'd come find ya, and now I'm here to give you what your imagination can't. Would you want that, lovie?"
Fuck.
You swallowed, hard. The air charged with a palpable energy. It felt as if the room was closing in on you two, the erotic tension flooding the air around you as you felt yourself becoming warmer. While you felt your fluster, your fantasies in turn were becoming more and more real by the second.
God, you wanted this. You needed this.
"Yes."
___
"Quit squirming, damn it."
Your eyes were rolled back. His hand was over your mouth, muffling your pathetic whines. You couldn't risk waking up the house, could you?
Your body pinned down against your bed, his clothed chest against your back. Slamming into you at an ungodly speed with sloppy noised, it was everything you'd dreamed about.
"I said," he started, pulling your hips up with his free hand with a grasp tight enough to bruise, angling every thrust which made you lose your mind, "quit squirming."
It was hard to not drool over his palm, the unholy echo of skin slapping together made you pray that no one else would wake up to hear it.
"Ghost-" you managed to moan out his callsign, muffled against his palm.
"Fuck, baby. Keep quiet f' me." he almost whimpered, his face getting lost and buried in your neck as he nipped and kissed at the soft skin. "Can't have- mmh - ye' waking the others up, can you?"
You were barely able to shake your head, this goddamn hunk of a man keeping you under his weight as he rearranged your insides.
"Sweet girl, how long have you thought about this? Touchin' yourself to the thought of me, now coming into y' room like this and using you like you've wanted." His voice came out as a growl, right against your hear and giving you goosebumps.
One night stands were never your thing, but you could for sure keep this going with him. With your walls clenching around him, your went blurry with tears as your eyes threatened to flutter closed.
His filthy words wavered, his voice breaking as he became increasingly desperate himself.
"Finally been given a taste and this wet cunt is just sucking me in."
With his cock hitting that spongey spot inside you, you tensed under him as you felt your orgasm approaching rapidly. Only a few more thrusts and with a muffled cry, you were coming undone, gushing around him. The feeling only made him whine more as you clamped down on him so deliciously, his hips slamming against your ass were now on borderline primal.
"I'll give you what you want, y're all mine, fuck."
With a final grunt against your neck, you felt the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim. Though, he was so deep inside you that there was no where for his release to go but seep out of you. His his heavy breaths mixed with growls, he removed his hand from your mouth and helped to flip you over.
Pulling you almost down to the edge of your bed, you were put into a mating press, barely comprehending it in your post-orgasm haze.
"We're not done yet. Sweet girl, I'm going to ruin you."
***************
SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH
I'VE JUST GRADUATED
CHEERS
#cod mw2#call of duty#mw2 x reader#mw2 smut#Ghost headcanons#Ghost cod#Ghost x reader#Ghost mw2#Ghost x reader smut#Simon Riley x reader#simon 'ghost' riley#Simon Riley fluff#Simon Riley smut#Ghost Headcanons#Simon Riley Headcanons#Ghost Imagines#Simon Riley Imagines#mw2 imagines#mw2 x you#Ghost x female reader#Simon Riley x Female Reader
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The Worst Wedding I've Ever Photographed
I’ve been a wedding photographer for nearly ten years and I thought I’d seen it all. Trashy, beautiful, tragic, hilarious, or just bizarre. I have stories. I have the typical groom getting caught getting it on with the maid of honor, family getting into brawls, brides OD-ing in the bathroom, gay couples having no one attend their wedding (or worse, the one uninivited homophobic relative crashing to just be a dick) stories. But we aren’t here for the typical stories. If we were, we’d be here all day. We’re here for the wedding from last October.
Fall weddings are probably my favorite, if I ever get married I’ll probably get hitched in the fall. It was the parents of the bride who came to me, asking for my services for a wedding in two weeks. Their original photographer apparently up and quit on them and they were desperate to have their darling daughter’s wedding immortalized in picture format.
Luckily for them, I had a clear schedule. I did charge them quite a bit extra for the suddenness of it all, but judging by the father’s Rolex it wasn’t that big a deal. One thing I’m good at guessing is a family’s wealth status. And once again I was on point- the Seawrights were rolling in dough.
Not that I really liked them though. I’m not required to like all my clients, although it does make things a bit more relaxing. Harold Seawright absolutely leered at my chest whenever he thought I wasn’t looking and Carol was clearly the trophy wife that was over the hill. I’ve never seen a human being that genuinely looked more like plastic than her. Nothing wrong with plastic surgery or Botox, but there’s gotta be a cut off at some point.
I think I should’ve been more off put by the parents coming to me rather than the bride, but I just figured said bride was busy with other wedding planning shit and didn’t think too hard on it.
Day came and uh… oh boy I realized I was getting into something I didn’t want to be a part of right away.
First time I saw the bride, Tanya, I had a brief moment of ‘I don’t know how old this girl is’. She could’ve been sixteen, she could’ve been just eighteen. Definitely not over twenty though. I’ve seen young marriages when it’s a shotgun affair, but then I met the groom. Marcel Wingate. Who was definitely no younger than thirty. And Marcel was just… something felt off. The man was a giant for one, he towered over me let alone Tanya. With his long, pale face and sunken eyes he could’ve been fuckin’ Lurch from the Addams Family.
When he shook my hand and introduced himself, I barely repressed a shiver. But years of practice helped me to smile and act like there wasn’t something slimy about all of this.
Tanya never said a word when she was made over for her big day. Only Carol did, chirping and twittering about ‘how about you make her hair a little bigger’ or ‘make her eyes pop, she has such pretty eyelashes’. Luckily Carol had to go have a smoke every fifteen minutes so the make up and hair people could have a moment to actually work. By the time it was all over, Tanya looked perfect. Her dress was basically a white ballgown, a tiara was placed in her strawberry blonde hair, cheeks blushing a perfect pink. But unlike most brides, she still hadn’t said a word and those weren’t sure as hell tears of joy she was holding back.
I’m sure you’ve heard about the ‘first look’ photo fad. I find it great to get that perfect expression a groom makes when he sees the bride in her dress for the first time. It’s usually quite cute. This was the first time I’ve shot a first look photo where I truly believe it was the first time the bride and groom have actually looked at each other.
Marcel did seem to have his breath taken away by his lovely bride, but her expression was less than thrilled as he took her hand and give it a tight squeeze. My stomached turned when he leaned in for a kiss on the cheek and she quite obviously flinched.
It’s time I put a pin on the myth that arranged marriages only happen in foreign countries, and only people from certain cultures take part in it. They happen all the time in the US, and more often than not it’s an old man who wants a ‘virgin’ bride, and by virgin I mean ‘still in fucking highschool’. This wouldn’t even be the first one I was hired to photograph.
I managed to catch Tanya alone in the room she got ready in, sitting next to the open window and twirling an unlit cigarette between her fingers. “Need a light?” I offered as I came in.
“No thanks. I don’t smoke, but they say it makes you feel better, right?” She said, looking up at me with those doll like blue eyes.
“It also gives you lung and throat cancer.” I took the cigarette from her and lit it up for myself. “But I’m a bad example, so do as I say, not as I do.”
Now that got a smile out of her, even if it only lasted a second. “How often do you smoke?” She asked.
“Depends on the day. Usually I have two or three. Bad day I can have a few more.” I lowered the cigarette and looked down at her. “How old are you, Tanya?”
“Nineteen. Twenty in a few weeks. I have a bit of a baby face.” She poked one of her cheeks. “Why do you care?”
I glanced at the door to make sure Carol wasn’t going to barge in. “Tanya, are you not okay with this? The wedding?” I asked quietly.
Tanya’s eyes widened. “Damn, you’re good,” She also glanced at the door, “… Harold, my stepdad, arranged all of this. If he had it his way it would’ve happened when I was fifteen, but Marcel kept delaying. Business, apparently. He tried to delay another year but my dad implied he had other offers.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “If I said no, Harold would kick me out and cut me off, frozen my bank account. I’d have nothing and no one, and… I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.”
I reached into my purse and pulled out one of my business cards. “Flip the card over, it has a number for a woman’s shelter- they specialize in helping women escape from dangerous home situations. Hides them, helps them get started in a new city if need be. Below that is my personal home number, if you just need to talk, okay?”
Tanya took the card and clung onto it tightly before tucking it into her bra. “You might be the nicest person I’ve ever met,” She murmured.
I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I try,” I said before extinguishing the cigarette on the windowsill. “If you need to escape any time tonight, just ask me to help you go to the bathroom. We can pull a whole runaway bride,” I joked.
That got another laugh out of her, just in time for her mom to pop into the room. “Well, what’s taking so long? Hurry up, the wedding’s going to be starting in fifteen minutes, and I don’t want you to cry and make your face all blotchy and ugly!” She whined.
Tanya’s brief joy faded and she gave me one more sad look before following her mother out.
The ceremony would’ve been so much more beautiful if I didn’t know the dirty little secret behind it all. Tanya didn’t smile once. I don’t think even one of those bridesmaids was an actual friend of hers, or at least not a sincere one. When the priest said ‘you may kiss the bride’, Tanya let one tear slip down her cheek when Marcel leaned down to kiss her.
I was seriously considering calling the cops, but what could they do? Tanya would likely cave and say nothing was wrong, and since she wasn’t a minor they couldn’t label Marcel a pedo and her stepfather a child seller. It still didn’t make the situation any less shitty. All I could do was snap pictures of the worst day of Tanya’s life.
At the reception I was constantly being nagged by Carol about what pictures to take to the point where I wanted to rip her hair out, but I did notice something different about the first dance between the couple.
Tanya at first was stiff as a board, reluctant to even touch Marcel, but he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Her entire demeanor changed in a blink of an eye to one of surprise and I managed to read her lips- ‘really?’ Marcel nodded and I managed to catch a picture of the first smile Tanya had since she said ‘I do’. By the end of the dance, she was actually starting to get into it, resting her head on his chest as they swayed to ‘A Thousand Years’.
It was a complete 180 change, Tanya was now one of the happiest, and dare I say it flirtiest brides I’ve ever seen. She even leaned up to kiss him on the cheek as they sat down, something that took even Marcel by surprise judging by how he blushed.
I genuinely started to wonder if Marcel slipped something in her drink to get her acting so happy when Carol started to nag me again about where her husband was. She was the kind of mother who forgot this was her child’s wedding instead of her own and she wanted pictures of her and ‘Haaarold’. In order to get the fuck away from her I told her I’d go find him. He’d been hitting the open bar a little hard that night, I assumed he was in the bathroom either throwing up or cheating on his wife. It could’ve gone either way at that point.
When I approached the men’s room, I heard something that sounded like gargling or swallowing. Ew, I know, but I kinda hoped to ruin this nasty bitch’s day if her husband really was cheating so I opened the bathroom door with my camera at the ready.
I made eye contact with Harold.
Or rather, I made eye contact with Harold’s head.
It was sitting in the sink, expression twisted in abject horror. The room was soaked in blood, body parts strewn around the floor. Meanwhile, Marcel had stripped out of his tuxedo and was currently swallowing Harold’s arm. Whole.
Now I was wondering if I’d had something slipped into my champagne. Humans can’t just unhinge their jaw like that, each gulp taking Marcel’s arm deeper down his throat. I saw the tips of Harold’s fingers disappear with a small wave of goodbye… and then I dropped my camera.
Yes, I heard something break, no I didn’t care. I just saw the groom eat the goddamn father of the bride. Marcel’s head shot up and his eyes, before now they were a dull, watery gray but now they were mottled brown and red with slitted pupils. I felt frozen when those eyes looked at me.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, one moment.”
Marcel turned to the sink that was free of a man’s head and vomited, I heard several things clatter on the porcelain before he fetched them out and washed them off. With an embarrassed clearing of his throat, he walked up to me and pulled me into the bathroom.
I thought I was dead, but instead Marcel placed several diamonds in my palm. “For the camera, I didn’t mean to startle you,” He said.
“Uh huh,” I managed to get out as I stared at the literal handful of diamonds. This would pay for more than the camera. “… Why did you-”
“Devour Harold? Oh, I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Marcel chuckled as he grabbed some paper towels to wipe off his chin, like that would take away from the fact he was still naked and bloody in front of me. “A terrible person actually tastes quite divine. You would taste absolutely terrible. It’d be like swallowing nails. Meanwhile, a man who offers his own daughter as a sacrificial lamb to something he knows eats humans, he tastes like the richest cut of steak, cooked medium rare and seasoned to perfection.”
Jesus Christ, this twisted situation had taken on a whole new level of fucked up. “Wait, he seriously-”
“Oh, absolutely,” Marcel snorted, “And he’d do it again. All for what happens when my stomach processes human bone.”
I clutched the diamonds. “… You’re not going to hurt Tanya?” I asked.
Marcel shook his head vigorously. “God, no! I kept delaying the wedding in hopes that she’d manage to find a way out, but I think Harold was getting bored with my cold feet. There would be plenty of other people willing to pay for her, even if my payment would be easily thrice what others would offer.”
God, I was starting to feel a little dizzy. Here I was, talking to a human eating groom. I glanced out the door and a horrible idea entered my brain. One that would surely earn Marcel’s good favor and help out Tanya. “… So if I told Carol she could find her husband in the men’s room?” I asked.
Marcel seemed puzzled for a second but caught on quickly. With a nod, he picked up the head and tossed it into one of the stalls. I heard it splash in one of the toilets and I almost started giggling, I was nearing hysteria. “Go right ahead. I’ll be waiting,” He said as he kicked more limbs out of sight.
I almost left when I had to ask one more question.
“What the hell are you?”
Marcel cocked his head to the side before he changed, just for a second. One moment he was a blood soaked man, absolutely horrifying but normal, the next he was a snake… sort of. His body was gone, replaced by the body of an anaconda, but his head was still the same, minus the flick of a slim, forked tongue from his mouth. Then he was back to ‘normal’. He responded with a shrug.
“Funnily enough, I was hoping you’d tell me. I don’t have a clue.”
I left the bathroom and bumped into Carol almost immediately in the hallway. “Well, where is he?” She snapped.
I just pointed a thumb towards the bathroom. “Think he’s not feeling so well,” I said before I was nearly bowled over by the grumpy bitch.
I watched long enough for her to open the door and for a scaled tail to shoot out, snag her around the arm, and drag her into the bathroom before I headed back to the wedding.
The problem seemed to solve itself that night. Marcel came back, the men’s room locked after apparently someone got quite sick in there. Tanya no longer had to behave a certain way to please her mom and I think she had a good night. I used my back up camera to make sure to get all the pictures of her smiling. Carol and Harold vanished into thin air, never to be seen or heard from again. And those diamonds paid for quite the nice new camera.
Like I said, it’s been a year. I sure as hell haven’t forgotten that wedding, but what prompted me to share it was that I got a friend request from Tanya on Facebook. I normally don’t accept friend requests from previous clients, but this one time I chose to make an exception. She does look so much better, she’s going to college, she now sculpts and paints, she regularly volunteers at the woman’s shelter I directed her to when we first me, and every Friday night is group date night at the local arcade with some of Marcel’s friends that now appear to be her friends as well. Apparently Marcel is quite the Dance Dance Revolution master, but is terrible at shooting games.
Her most recent picture was her and Marcel, smiling. And she was holding up an ultrasound picture.
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CAROL OF THE BALLS !
ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader x dante (dmc)
tags. i made them brothers, cucking, threesome, age gap, size kink, ass play, leon eats his cum so incest, cum eating, creampie, p in v
note. SORRY FOR BEING LATE AGAIN i have been tweaking :3 but um whatever! ignore typos or i’ll detonate :3 feedback n rbs much appreciated !!! ooc bc dante is literally a well-meaning old man but i have to make him sleazy for porn without plot purposes sorry!! i also cut the smut short bc. bc i wanted to get this out so sorry if it’s jolty 😭
tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.
Your love for Leon, much to his dismay, is no match for your pursuit of cock. His poor girl, you suffer from this awful disease at such a young age, the kind that tears a family apart - wandering hands they call it. In Leon’s terms, it would be something more akin to cock-driven. That’s your motivation, and if you see one you like, you’re gonna get it. Fuck, you’d do rocket science on the spot for a nice, fat cock. Unfortunately, it just so happens to be his older brother that you’ve set your eye on. And Leon’s older brother is the most shameless asshole since, like, god, Mark Antony? That guy was obnoxious, right? Fucking his best friend’s wife and all.
Dante is that obnoxious but amplified tenfold, if you can even imagine that. He’s got a big mouth to match his stature, and, you guessed it, he’s got one hell of a dick stuffed into those tacky leather pants. And you’re taking a very obvious gander at what sort of goodies he’s got tucked away. You’re playing footsie with him under the table for fuck’s sake. Leon can tell by the way you’re slouched too far back in your seat, but it’s mainly ‘cause he dropped his fork and when he lifted the table cloth, he found your foot rubbing along Dante’s inner thigh while his fingers toyed with the frilly cuff of your sock. Bringing you home for Christmas was a mistake. You’re too precious to give up and too hard to reign in. He should just store you away in a jar of some sort, poke a few holes in the lid so you can breathe, a bird cage perhaps, or maybe a crate?
Knowing you, you’d manage to get your paws on Dante either way. A cage would be no problem, just slip it right on in through the gaps! A makeshift gloryhole if you will. Honestly, he’d prefer you to pick Vergil over Dante, at least the guy has it all together, at least he’s not a washed up loser who can’t pay his bills, at least he’s not Dante. You’d think as the younger sibling you’d turn out better, right? It’s like baking a cake, the first time it’s shit, and the second time it’s better. Not soft in the centre, not burnt to a crisp on the sides - just don’t work like that around here. Instead, Leon’s parents had the stronger, taller, hotter, bigger one first, then little Leon to top it all off. Little ‘cause he’s 5’10 with insoles only.
Oh yeah, you can ask around town. Leon Kennedy? That guy’s decent, nice face, nice smile, nice guy. Dante? One that walks around like his dick is weighing him down, fuckin’ pornstar face, can tell if a girl likes him when she’s got her ankles behind her head – yeah, I know him, he broke my parents marriage up, and he fucked my sister, and my auntie, yeah, the one that came over for the holidays. I don’t really mind ‘cause he gave it to me after too! Oh, no way, I couldn’t do that with Leon, he’s more of the settle down type, don’t you think?
No one has actually said that and yes, he is more of the settle down type, but Leon has had his fair share of flings, and contrary to popular belief - missionary is not the only position he knows. He knows how to put a girl on her knees, no stranger to it. Maybe, just maybe, his dick is the problem. It’s not small, not quite big, it’s adequate, or perhaps it’s inadequate and that’s why you’re offering to wash the dishes alongside Dante. Leon hasn’t seen Dante do a household chore since 1976, that’s when Leon was in the womb if you didn’t know. Meaning he hasn’t ever seen Dante do a single chore, not even pick up his own underwear the fucking slob. And don't even get him started on you. The girl who struggles to get the vacuum working when Leon’s not around, then you do it half heartedly for five minutes before complaining about your back aching.
He’s pacing outside the kitchen like a guard on duty, listening in on your conversation with Dante, it’s absolutely thrilling. Leon couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time, he just loves to hear his girlfriend flirt her way into his brother’s pants.
Oh, your hands are so big, Dante! Wow, they’re so much bigger than mine. My goodness, Dante, you could pick me up, like, sooooo easy! I wonder what else is big! Has your hair always been that colour? No, that’s so not true, Dante, doesn’t make you look old at all! It suits you, don’t look a day over twenty. Duh, of course I’m joking, I like ‘em old anyway. Do you babe? You should go ahead and suck his old man cock, sure Dante wouldn’t mind, and it’s not like Leon has any say. You’re young and fickle - this is what he deserves for dating a girl your age. What more do you know than dick?
“It’s okay, he won’t wake up,” Your voice is muffled in his ears, distant despite you being less than an inch away from him. He shifts, feels around for your warmth, clasps an arm that’s way too jacked.
Leon’s brother is remarkable really, he turns over after a struggle with the bedside lamp, sees Dante’s teeth gleaming, your little hands splayed flat across his chest. He’d go at him, make a feast of it, he wishes for the tearing of Dante’s throat to be biblical. God, Kane and Abel have nothing on them. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His digs his nails into hardened muscle.
“Please, baby,” You beg him, beg is an exaggeration, from you it’s a command. Like, not Oh, please, Leon! May I suck and fuck your brother while you lay beside us? More of a Please, shut your mouth and let me have this, Leon. I haven’t had good dick ever since I started dating you.
He falters, “No, babe,” Leon shakes his head, lip curling upwards in both disgust and wonderment at the boldness of your request. “No, are you crazy?”
“C’mon, Leon,” Dante pouts, and it’s disturbing to see a grown man with no upper lip do that. “She just wants to have a little fun.”
“Don’t— don’t get involved, this is between me and her.” His attempt at assertion is only met with amusement.
“Leon, please?” You bat your lashes. Beat. His heart hammers in his chest. Then Leon closes his eyes like a good boy, he’s always been great at taking orders. Whatever. Fuck his brother to your heart’s content.
“He not treatin’ you right, sweet thing?” Dante murmurs into your neck, his thick fingers parting your slippery folds, rubbing deft circles on your twitching clit.
He grits his teeth so hard they squeak. Leon treats you perfectly well. Surely, saying otherwise—
“No, Dante,” You pout up at his brother, a small hand curled around his wrist as he pushes his fingers knuckle-deep into your slick cunt.
Stupid bitch. Leon has never been inclined to call a woman a bitch, total lie, but Claire told him it’s not appropriate, and Claire is usually right about most things. Not right now though, girls are fucking brutal.
“No?” Dante coos, “My little brother can’t please his girl? Can’t get this little cunt soaked?” There’s a wet smack, and you gasp.
“Don’t do that.” Leon can’t help himself, it’s like he insists on making a fool of himself. “She doesn’t like that.”
“Do it again.” You plead, “Dante, please, feels so good.” The crooked smile Dante gives him is humiliation at its finest.
He draws his hand back, spanks your cunt, the fleshy part of his palm mashing against your clit. “You don’t even know what your girl likes.”
“I do.” Leon’s chest aches, his dick aches even more, feels like it’s about to over-inflate and pop.
“Bet you like it rough, don’t you, babe?” Dante asks, presses his nose into your neck, licks a stripe up your jugular.
“She does not.”
“Yes.” You nod crazy like a dashboard bobblehead.
Dante raises his brows when he glances sideways at Leon, “He’s not givin’ it to you is he? You want him all up in your guts, baby, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, god, please,” You whine, clit thrumming beneath Dante’s fingertips. “Want it here.” You bring Dante’s hand to rest on your abdomen, “wanna feel you here, please.”
“Dirty little bitch,” Dante coaxes an orgasm out of you with his fingers alone.
“Don’t speak to her like that.”
“I’ll speak to her how I want,” He retorts, “She likes it, ‘s why you’re gettin’ me all wet, isn’t it, baby?”
“Mhm,” Your eyes follow his every move, and Leon has never seen you so enthralled during sex. He’s used to you laying on your back like a dead girl, legs over his shoulders, letting out the occasional grunt of discomfort.
His head dips low, the sheets are long forgotten, crumpled at the foot of the bed. Dante’s big hands spread your cheeks apart, licks into your cunt, flicks his tongue over your clit— and you moan like you never have before. Back bowing off the bed, covering your mouth with a balled-up fist, chest heaving.
“That good, baby?” Dante hums, his teeth scrape over your clit when he pulls back the hood, and you squirm.
“So good, so good— ‘s so fuckin’ good, god!”
Alright, can’t be that good, now you’re just putting it on to piss Leon off. You’ve never sucked his dick well enough for him to moaning like that. Then again, his dick doesn’t have a million nerve endings. The sounds Dante is making are downright lewd, unnecessary even, you’re dripping all over his face, his chin wet and shiny with your pussy— then he makes the jump. A move that’s bold even for a dude as outrageous as Dante, his pink tongue follows the natural trail from pussy to asshole. Licks the puckered rim till you relax, and there’s no resistance from you whatsoever. You’re just letting this grimy bastard eat your fucking ass? Even Leon hasn’t gotten that far, not that he’s asked, not that he’s ever thought about it - something about the second hole just feels wrong.
Dante spits on it, manages to get his thumb in nicely, then he sits up, leaves you empty. “Just a little girl takin’ big things, aren’t you? How am I s’posed to fit in this tight cunt without breaking it?” He tilts his head to the side, eyes droopy like he’s drunk on pussy juice alone. Probably is. Shit is potent. Especially when you’ve been nose-deep.
His brother only smiles, gives a pointed look to Leon’s dick straining against the fabric of his boxers, the sticky wet patch. “That’s why she wants cock so bad, huh?” Leon is not small. His dick is just right, it’s fine, it’s sufficient. There’s nothing wrong with it, but he cups a hand over his bulge to hide it from Dante.
Dante shucks off his pants, and yeah, Leon really is the little brother in every sense. He might as well just kill himself at this point, there is no winning against a dick that fat. Shit’s so big it’s hanging downwards, so heavy it can’t even hold itself up. Some big fucking balls to level it out. Jesus, is he seriously admiring his brother’s dick right now? Listen, it’s just got some real weight to it, and Leon has to say he’s impressed. Only seen this breed of horsecock in porn.
“Gosh, Dante,” You’re lovestruck, cockstruck, a trembling hand reaches forward to cup his heavy balls, then wrap it around the base, and it’s honestly so big your thumb and middle finger struggle to meet.
“Don’t throw her around like that, oh my god.” Leon frowns, catches your head from knocking against the headboard when Dante manhandles you onto your front. “Just be careful.” If you told Leon he’d be watching his brother fuck his little girlfriend from behind with a thumb in her ass, he’d say, yeah, sounds about right. Some shit that would happen to a guy like me.
“She can take it.” Dante says, then he’s sheathed inside with a single glide of his cock, no resistance whatsoever. You’re that wet. Dripping down your thighs. God, he’s never seen you get so worked up. “Can’t you, babe?”
“Yes, please, just give it to me please, Dante,” Now that’s begging, not that shit you were doing earlier. “Wan’ it so bad, please, might die, Dante.”
“Alright, okay, baby, only ‘cause you asked so nicely.” He snickers, wraps his arm around your front and then fucks into you so hard the bed rocks. Headboard hits the wall. Stuff you see in movies. God, his poor girl, you’ll be ruined once Dante’s done with you.
“Oh my god, oh my god, Dante,” You mewl an endless string of expletives, arch so your hips push back onto his fat cock, and your eyes roll back into your head, and there’s spit trickling down your chin— Holy fucking shit. It’s like watching a porno play out. Hell, it might very well be a porno. C’mon, where’s the camera, is this Dante’s new side gig? Is this keeping his lights on, his fridge full, his water running? Wouldn’t put it past him.
Once he creams your hole, Dante’s quick to spread you apart with his big hands, you’re still gaping. “Go on, Leon.” He says very simply, smiles the way he always does when he suggests something outlandish. “Clean her up.”
Leon’s never eaten pussy from the back, it’s impolite. Crude. That’s the general consensus, right? And Leon’s a feminist, he’ll eat a pussy that sits itself on his face, he’ll snuggle up between a thick pair of thighs - but from the back, oh, it’s just obscene. Still does it though. Eats his brother's thick cum from your hole, sucks on your swollen clit, laps till there’s nothing left that’s dirtier than his own tongue. Then he goes to bed with a hard dick and the taste of his brother’s cum in the back of his throat. He’ll sleep it off.
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Rebirth.
Billy’s first time with you.
※ Bottom Billy Hargrove/Top Male Reader
※ 11,270 words
※ Personal work (not request).
※ Content & warnings: First time bottoming. Crying during sex. Angst. Light D/s dynamics (Sub Billy Hargrove/Dom Male Reader). Emotional sex. Vulnerability. Praise kink. Sort of PWP. Overstimulation.
※ Both characters are 18 or older.
※ Work available only on Tumblr and under ArchiveOfOurOwn pseud of the same name (DecadentWorld). Do not repost, edit, or redistribute. Do not use for TikTok videos.
※ Warning: this gets real sad, real fast.
“Hey…”, you ask the man after you’ve paused your kissing. “…you okay?”
Currently, you have Billy pressed against the wall next to your bedroom door. Your house’s dim lighting puts this very moment into focus, as though time is concentrated into a needlepoint. There is not a single thing you’d rather be doing than this. Him. The sole fact that he’s yours is already enough to keep you up at night.
His gaze lowers and he looks elsewhere, not at you, never at you at this time. That’s one of the things that drew you in to him like a moth to a flame. That little detail, the fact that, out there, he has to be so very him: boisterous, dangerous, loud, bigger than life… but in this pocket of space you both call home, that he tentatively calls his safe space, he can finally be him: vulnerable, insecure, shy, small.
So he does not look at you, never at you, and rather lowers his head to a side as he nods as a response to your question. There’s a pinched expression in his face that does not go unnoticed by you.
“Y’sure?” Your lips find the left side of his forehead. “You still wanna…?”
Because this is a huge step, isn’t it? It’s what you’ve both been discussing for some time now. He wants to go further. And hell, it wasn’t easy for him to say it at all. Said it somewhat similarly to the way he’s looking right now. Quiet. Meek. Looking elsewhere.
But your boy is so brave. Secretly trembles in the adversity of society’s opinion on people like him and you and still pushes forward with a bold front, told you he wants you to be his first in this aspect.
“Mmm-hmm,” is his answer. He doesn’t notice, of course, but his hands, the ones holding your own arms, which at this time are around his waist, start trembling more and more, a minute thing that only you can perceive.
“Okay.” An easy answer, because you can’t make this complicated to him, not when he’s like this. “We can still stop anytime—”
“Don’t wanna fuckin’ stop.” And, oh, he’s grunting it out now. Now, he’s turned into the spitting image of a cornered animal, and you have to tread carefully. When he’s like this it’s because his emotions are getting the best of him. You know he’s nervous.
Your right hand finds its way to his chin. You lift his face up, until he’s facing you, though his eyes are not quite there yet. Still pointedly looking to his right, to the floor, even as he’s under your intense gaze and visibly getting hotter under the collar, more flustered, his breathing heavier.
“Look at me, Blue.” It’s not quite an order. It will not be unless you both discuss it in depth first.
The few inches you have on him mean he has to —slowly, painstakingly— look up at you, and isn’t that a heady feel? To have such a beautiful man look up in wonder at someone or something bigger than him? Someone who can envelop him completely and seal him away from the world’s horrors?
“This is your call, yeah? I want what you want.” The knuckles of your right hand brush against his pink cheek. He traces the movement with something akin to uncertainty. “And if you, right now, want to flee this house, I won’t stop you.”
“Then why did you stop?” There’s a croak in his voice. His eyes fight to stay on yours, and there’s a shine on them that wasn’t there before. “Why d’you think I wanna stop? Huh?”
You give him a small rueful smile he watches perplexed. “Babe… you haven’t stopped shaking like a leaf since we set foot in my room—”
“No I’m n— I’m not. Shaking.” And his head is back in that position. Not looking at you in any way.
You purse your lips. Your arms that were around his waist again untangle some, until your hands are pressed against the low of his back. His hands, that were holding onto your arms, move with the jostling. At the same time you rub against his back, feeling the littlest squirm against them, you lower your mouth to his cheek.
The gentle treatment compels him to press more of himself against you, still not looking at you properly, but wondering what got into you to hold him like this.
“It’s okay to be nervous.”
“I’m not.”
A gentle kiss on the cheek. A trembling sigh in response. “I know you are, and I’m not judging you for it.” Another kiss, this time lower, on the jaw. “I just want you to know…” A kiss on the jugular, like an animal playing with its prey, and Billy feels as if he were right into the wolf’s fauces with how fast that same vein is beating against your mouth. “…that you don’t have to pretend with me.” One on the juncture of his neck and shoulder and the trembling he’s trying to deny so indubitably only worsens. Then, a series of kisses, tracing that same path backwards, as you punctuate each with a word: “I. Will. Take. Care. Of. You.”
A last kiss on the corner of his mouth, and you have his full attention. Your faces are so close that you could just close your eyes and still feel the heat coming off his.
And his eyes. It’s almost an obsession now. You thought they were blue before, like the gentle waves he could relax on during the quietest pockets of his life before coming to this city. But now. Now they’re somehow accentuated. No longer calm, but the imposing waves during a thunderstorm in the middle of the ocean.
Because the white of his eyes has progressively turned more red and the lighter blue of his eyes could save any lost man at sea.
You don’t comment on this as of now. Just the fact that he’s already like this, and you haven’t done much yet, speaks volumes about how much trust he’s putting into you. The subtle tremble in the space between his eyebrows, the much more visible one of his chin, right under his drooping lips…
You nuzzle your noses together and that somehow seems to be his breaking point. He heaves, blinks in rapid succession, and looks like he’s having a battle with himself, head turning to the side again but coming back, always coming back to you. Then, decided, tilts his head up more, directing those stormy eyes on yours and then your lips.
“You’ll… You’ll take care of me?” His voice is no more than a croak.
In response, your hands seek his. Once they find them, you guide them towards his chest and towards themselves, something that confuses him at first. His arms are now fully folded against himself. Then, your arms encircle his body. You make sure there’s not a breath of space between you.
This is how you envelop him completely. You are his shield, and nothing can get to him.
His heavy breathing is shaky as well. You nuzzle the side of his face and that draws him in.
“Always.”
It seems the waterworks are about to start for him, so he quickly hides it by kissing you, full on the mouth this time.
This is not nervousness over the sex as a physical act, you realize. This is something bigger. You leave this thought aside for a second as you return the kiss with all the affection you can muster. Your arms that are encircling his body start lowering as you leave soft smacks of your lips on his, until they’re only around his waist. But his own arms are still where you left them; he’s afraid of breaking this bubble you created.
Finally, your hands set on his hips. They start caressing the clothed skin there, and, in this moment of catharsis you’ve bestowed upon him you can feel him writhe against your hands, a small, happy thing you notice is grounding him.
His arms are still in the same position when you withdraw. When you do, he chases after you, but quickly retracts in shame.
“Oh, sweetness, you want more?”, you mumble close to his lips, noticing how he sighs in pleasure at this.
So you give him more. One short kiss against his lips, two more, loud smacking noises in the silent room, and then a small bite on his lower lip that makes his body vibrate.
He withdraws with a loud gasp but does not stop looking at you in yearning. His hands finally lower to find yours and he guides them to his heaving chest. His chest, the most of which is uncovered, since the man can absolutely not wear a shirt without undoing at least three of its buttons.
Billy is so brave, so good to you, he made the first move to let you know it’s okay to have this, to have him. Your hands find the hairless skin and the contact is electric. He heaves heavy breath after breath and can’t seem to decide whether to look at you or at the point of contact, because your hands feel so good on him, on his chest, such an unassuming place that would bring him so much pleasure. And his chest is so warm, too. Your fingers splay over the upper part of it, and you can’t believe how much heat irradiates off him. The tips of your fingers manage to touch his clavicles while the lowest parts of your palms press softly lower down his chest. And —this is what gets you the most— Billy blushes everywhere. The center of his chest is such a beautiful shade of pink, the same or similar to the one on his freckled face, that you just can’t help but rub both hands on the expanse of his pectorals. You feverishly wonder if your hands can leave a brand on his skin, because it seems to be turning an ever darkening shade, and you realize it’s only your own effect on Billy’s sensitive skin.
His hands have been holding onto your wrists, directing only at first but now just resting there, or holding on for dear life, you can’t tell. The only thing you understand is that you have to get your hands —and your mouth, dear god. Your mouth— on those pretty pink nipples, so you start a slow, sinful massage of your fingertips over the meat of his pecs, something that seems to agitate him even more with how heavy he’s breathing now. His mouth is open, he’s fully looking at you now, like he can’t believe his life has finally lead to this point.
And then, the palms of your hands graze across his nipples, and his body seizes. He makes this small, broken noise that catches your attention, and he doesn’t want you to look at him, he seems so embarrassed, as if he doesn’t want you to see how affected he is with just this. But you’re ruthless in your mercy, and bring your face closer to his, nuzzling close to his nose again, and he’s wordless as you begin a sensual massage from the center of those two pleasure points outwards, the entirety of your hands on him.
Another broken noise, this time more choked off than the first one. Your faces are so close together that it would only take a small push to kiss again, but you don’t. Your lips are right there, barely coming in contact with his, not kissing while you continue this erotic touch, and you’re now basically breathing the same air. You have an exhilarating thought: maybe he’s more pent up about the fact that you won’t close the distance between your lips than about the fact that you’re outright feeling up his chest. Because, truly, his desire only grows bigger when it’s not acted upon.
Your hands lower to the sides of his chest, underneath his shirt. Your thumbs press against his nipples.
His body curls into you, and then his head knocks against the wall behind him, and you can perfectly see the expression he makes and hear the song he sings for you and you just…
You’re the one to cave in. This kiss is a masterpiece of a choreography: the force of it almost knocks him back against the wall. His hands hold onto your wrists for dear life as he feels his body move on its own, a writhing of his spine against those burning points of contact on his nipples. Then, for the next dance steps: your thumbs start rubbing circles on those pretty pinks. At the same, he, as if synchronized, opens his mouth just in time for you to push your tongue into it, rubbing circles against his own tongue in a similar fashion to the way you’re touching him below. And doesn’t this rush the grand finale? Small sounds start filtering off the closed space you’ve created with the cavern of your mouth. A mix of his own choked off moans, smacking noises of your lips each time they withdraw only to come back to him again, slick sounds of your tongues circling each other. The perfect musical score for your magnum opus, because you did this. You have set off these reactions and you have stored this fragile boy’s trust in you, and have seen it come to fruition like this.
It’s all carefully synchronized. You bite his lower lip and pinch the now erect peaks, gentle roughness matching both places and he gasps, pressing his chest more against you, like he craves that tender kind of pain. And, oh, he’s losing himself to you. Now he moves and is the one to initiate a rougher kiss, and you lose yourself to him as well, because you answer back in kind, the kiss now with exhilarating hints of teeth from both parts. But you have plans for him. Of course, he will get nothing but the best from this treatment, this particular type of roughness you can give him that will not have him running for the hills. So you detach your lips from his, though it’s an intermittent thing, because his lips were made to be kissed, and you can’t help yourself with a few more noisy smacks against them, but when you’re finally done, you attach these same lips to his neck, a quick, sharp point of contact when you show the slightest hint of teeth, to which in turn he exhales heavily, and your mouth just keeps going down, on his clavicle, then on a meaty part of his upper pec, and then…!
And then your mouth is on his left nipple, and he shouts, and he tries to keep it down, and then you start sucking and your left hand is fondling his right pectoral, and his hands hold onto the back of your head and you do something with your tongue that has him trembling and moaning outloud this time, and he crosses his legs and isn’t that a sight, he’s fully hard beneath his jeans, and he’s so needy and your right arm surrounds him and your right hand gropes his ass and his hips are pushed forward and he sobs as your own hips meet his and you grunt against his chest and the vibrations are too much for him and your mouth never leaves him as you lick a trail all the way to his right nipple and he blubbers and the heat of his chest feels like home to you and you bite his nipple and—
“Fuck me!”
You withdraw quickly to witness the spectacle: his hands are to the sides of his head against the wall. His almost fully open shirt, all rumpled, the crimson of its color and the pink of his chest a perfect palette. Below, the tent of his erection against the front of his jeans is enhanced by the small wet spot, right where the tip should be. Above, his face turns out to be the real zenith of the play. Mouth open as he draws in breaths, eyebrows pinched, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
‘I surrender’ would be the perfect title for this masterpiece of a performance.
You get close to him again and he rushes to hold onto your shoulders, like he cannot stand to be unmoored for one second. You encircle his waist, and your hands lay on his ass, and it’s a perfect fit. The comedown has to be gentler, this time. You give him a short, soft kiss on his lips that he chases after you’re done.
“So good for me, Bill. Telling me what you want.” The mumbled praise next to his ear has such an effect on him, you still can’t believe he could actually blush more. “Where do you want it?”
He takes a couple of deep breaths, calming himself down before he blows too soon. “Uh… the b-bed, I guess.” He tries to look to the side, embarrassed that he, he of all people could stutter at a time like this, but you don’t let him, left hand on his chin gently forcing him to keep his eyes on you.
“Yeah?” Your hands fondle that firm ass of his, still clothed, but he feels it as though he had nothing on, and he fights to keep his eyes open and on you, stubborn to give into his desire to close them and just feel.
Though it’s a reluctant move —because it is a tragedy, that you can’t multitask— your hands leave their place and set themselves on the few done buttons of his shirt.
He nods, and it almost gives you whiplash, how shy he’s looking right now, as if he didn’t shout out how he wanted you to fuck him some seconds ago.
You start unbuttoning the remaining part of his shirt before he loses his courage, and when you’re done, you hold his gaze intensely for one second as your hands find their way to his belt. He has to look down at what you’re doing because he needs to check that this is real, and because he just can’t with he way you’re looking at him. You keep looking at him even as he can’t decide between looking down or up, even as you undo his belt and his jeans, and then pull the tails of his shirt out of his jeans.
It seems like he braves through it and decides to face you in the end. Your hands stroke a sensual path up his bare chest until they’re underneath the fabric on his shoulders. You slowly push his shirt off him, not leaving his eyes for one second as the shirt falls to the floor. His body is so very perfectly sculpted, and you can’t wait to see more of him. Never leaving his skin, your hands lower down his body in a sensual caress, so low you have to bend over a bit, until your right hand is tracing his left leg, lower and lower. He looks confused for a slight moment until a gentle firmness tells him you want him to flex his leg. He does, and you use the momentum to lay his foot on your own folded leg. You start undoing his shoe.
This is the part where he looks at you like he can’t believe you exist. To be able to just stand there, against the wall, while someone else pauses their foreplay to simply take the time to undress him, or like the undressing is part of the foreplay too, maybe… he doesn’t think he can describe this moment. Not now, not ever. The only thing he knows is that he can’t think this over too much or he’ll start crying for sure this time, even before the sex begins.
Once his shoes are done, you rise and come back to his mouth, your home, and after a soft peck your hands find their way to the front of his pants. You hook two fingers of both hands beneath his underwear right away, and with a long heated look on his behalf, you slowly lower both jeans and underwear down his legs.
It’s so exhilarating when his hard cock springs free. You don’t know who’s the more excited of the two.
You use the excuse of lowering his lower garments to crouch before him, until you get to your prize, and exhale a hot breath right over his hard and leaking cock as you’re lowering them down his knees, and he almost keels over at the feel. Then, as if too stupefied from that simple action, he takes several seconds before remembering to lift his feet so that you can fully take his pants off and away. As you rise up again, you do the same thing, this time a quick brush of your lips against the head of his cock almost his ruin.
He’s on you the moment your faces are close again. You can’t tell whether it is because he truly can’t stand to be far from you for a second or because he’s feeling embarrassed again, but you return the messy kiss until he’s almost out of air. You notice this but he doesn’t stop, somehow. There’s a notable shaking of his hands on the back of your head as you lay your hands on his bare body.
You pull back because you simply have to look at him. He chases after you with a gasp but stops himself at the last moment, and you know he’s mortified, if the strong blush on his face is indicative enough. And now, he’s fully bare for you to feast on. Your eyes trace heated paths across his body, and your hands follow those same paths. He beckons you, just by being himself. He can’t seem to choose between looking at you or at what you’re doing to him, but Billy’s equally pleased with the way you’re touching him and the way you’re looking at him, like you want to commit every single detail to memory.
You can’t help yourself and grope at his pecs once more, the view so much better now that you can see his chest, unhindered. Rough, calloused fingertips play with his nipples and the sides of his torso, and he lays himself onto you, ripe for the taking.
“God, Billy. Your fucking body…” Your left hand rubs down his navel, feeling him squirm at the sensation. Your right hand goes around his body and slowly, painstakingly approaches the lower part of his back.
He almost jumps a foot in the air and moans when your hand is suddenly there, groping the swell of his ass. He can’t look at you. God, he can’t. The way you’re spreading him with one hand is too much for him and he has to hide his face in the crook of your neck as he tries to muffle his moans.
“Sensitive there?” Your right hand traces the inner part of his cheek, and one of his feet kicks against the wall as a reflex. His face is radiating so much heat right now, because you’re so close to touching his hole.
But Billy can’t handle you laying it all on him at once, so he instead withdraws —with such a red face you can’t believe it’s not feverish— and says, “You too. T-Take off your clothes.”
Sweet boy. It truly takes a lot for him to not want the attention on him anymore, and this seems to be it, the way you’re this close to consuming him entirely and the way he would terrifyingly let you. But doesn’t he know that tonight is all about him? He will receive as much attention as he needs to and he will burst at the seams with it. So, instead of taking your time, you quickly start undressing before him as he watches almost in foreboding, understanding that this is about him. But he tries to prolong this, lays his hands on the front of your pants, looking at you with shyness, then, at his own hands, trying to open your button and zipper, but his hands are trembling too much for it.
You chuckle against his lips, receiving a meek sigh in response. “My good boy. Trying to help me.”
It’s the first time you say it loud and clear. He’s your good boy. And your good boy looks faint from it. He’s trying to blubber something out but he can’t seem to form the words, so your mercy comes in the form of a slow, forceful kiss, in which he can’t keep himself quiet. It’s as if the floodgates have been opened with these two simple words. The only reason his moans aren’t that loud is because you’re not giving his mouth a second of respite. Meanwhile, your hands find his, and you finally withdraw from his lips and watch, exhilarated, as he chases after you. It’s becoming tradition now, and it’s probably one of your newest favorite things about Billy.
“It goes like this,” you say, and your fingers guide his in undoing your pants. After it’s done, you hold his gaze as you lead his hands to the sides of you, slowly beginning to push down your lower garments all at once. He bends forward some, similar to what you did with him, but doesn’t go down all the way and seems to lose his courage in the middle of it, because you’re the one who ends up taking off the rest of your own clothes as he pointedly looks at your eyes only, as if he already knew what he was going to encounter and was terrified and thrilled at the same time.
The last of your clothes is now away from you, and you both stare down at each other, with nothing blocking the way.
Your right hand finds its way under his chin. You rub your thumb across and under his lips, and feel his hot, heavy exhale against it.
He blinks quickly in succession. His eyes do this funny thing where they want to look down but end up looking at you and then elsewhere, like he’s embarrassed again and doesn’t know where to look. You think he deserves some encouragement, and lower your mouth to his for a quick peck. Then, your right hand, still holding his chin, starts tilting his head down, slowly enough that he can push you off if he wants to, but he doesn’t want that. No, he does not. As he’s being lead down, his eyes quickly find yours once more in a slight… panic? Excitement?, before he’s facing down and has nothing more to look at but you.
And you can hear and feel his reaction. Because that’s the thing. You’re big, bigger than he was possibly expecting, and a small croak of a moan confirms this same thought he’s currently having. He swallows down and looks you in the eye, from under his lashes, and does he have any idea of what that does to you?
He wants to put his hands on you this time. He doesn’t even know where to start so he settles on your navel. He briefly looks up at you again, but then down, like he’s quickly becoming obsessed with the sight of you. Your hands, in turn, find his hips and lower still. They come to rest right on the sides of his erect, flushed cock, and he does this little jump, and you’re quickly realizing that he’s a lot more sensitive that you initially thought. Hmm…
Billy can’t hide the trembling in his hands anymore, but you’re going to trust him on this, trust that he knows what he’s doing and that he wants it. His nervous hands hover around your cock and it’s like he’s having an internal battle with himself over something, or maybe he truly can’t believe he gets to look at another naked male in a sexual situation and is still getting acclimated to it, so perhaps a little incentive will work.
“Touch all you want, sweetness. It’s all yours.”
He gets this little nervous look on his eye that’s somehow eclipsed by the thrill he’s feeling and showing. So, he obeys. The first contact on your cock is warm, timid, rough from the dryness. Billy has his full attention on your member now. Now, this here is something that would make any man in the world preen: the way Billy’s looking at your cock is comparable to that of someone witnessing a wonder. He’s just holding it, feeling the heavy weight of it on his right hand as his nervous left hand can’t decide if it wants to feel out your testes. You notice this and you gently lead that hand down, showing him he can unequivocally feel to his heart’s desires. The contact on both points feels nice, though clearly insecure on his behalf. And his face. You could’ve never pictured anyone looking at someone else’s sex the way he is. His mouth opens and closes like he can’t find the words, some quiet gasps resounding in the otherwise quiet room.
This leaves you with that same question from before, when he looked ready to weep just from being treated nicely. What is it about this situation that has him so agitated?
“Okay?”, you just have to ask. “Does it feel nice?”
You expect him to snark, but you surprisingly get a somewhat enthusiastic nod in response. Only now you realize that you haven’t touched his cock still, and yet he’s been hard from your foreplay all this time. Well. You obviously have to fix that.
Only that before you can lay a hand on his cock, he shocks you by leaning into you, and then going down, down, down…
“Oh, honey…”
The vision of a bare Billy Hargrove kneeling at your feet is something that’ll haunt your dreams forever, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Of course, you didn’t expect anything from Billy because he doesn’t owe you anything, and this is about him tonight, but if this is what he wants to do then by all means you will make it unforgettable for him, because this is probably his first time giving head to a man, isn’t it?
He’s gaping at the heavy cock in front of him, holding it in both hands, and then at you.
You run the fingers of your right hand through his soft hair. “Need me to guide you?”
He’s doing that thing again, where he’s opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, can’t decide what he wants to say, and to you this is a clear visage of a boy who needs a nurturing hand.
“S’alright, gorgeous. I’ll tell you what to do. Yeah?”
Billy heaves a heavy breath and nods. So it seems like he’s going non-verbal for the moment. It doesn’t concern you right now, but you’ll keep an eye out in case anything goes wrong. You feel the slightest hint of guilt for thinking he’s so fucking hot like this, not being able to even speak out from lust.
“Open your mouth.” He does. “Pull out your tongue for me, handsome.” He does, too, though slowly, like he’s embarrassed. “Now, just start like this,” and you run your finger across your cock in random strokes, showing him how he’s to lick you, get you wet. “You told me girls sometimes did this to you, yeah? Just do what you’d like to get done on you.”
But, there’s a problem with that. Billy has been with girls before, has had sex with them, but never out of real desire. It has always been a carefully crafted mask for him, the fact that he has to be seen with a girl just to fend off his piece of shit father’s heavy suspicions of him being queer. So, the entirety of his sexual experiences can be summarized into forced orgasm after forced orgasm, doing the most to seem interested enough. So he cannot possibly ‘do what he’d like to get done on himself’ because no situation where a girl was sucking him off could count as genuinely pleasurable for him.
The pause he makes as he’s processing these thoughts and this gentle encouragement of yours tells you all you need to know. “Just start with this pretty pink of yours, yeah?” The tip of your index finger strokes across the expanse of his tongue.
He pulls it back in to swallow, because the way you’re treating him will be his ruin someday, and pulls it back out. There’s a hot blush on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
And then, he begins. Nervous, but braving through it, always your boy, he starts with a small kitten lick on the underside of your head. His tongue is like velvet, so hot and alive under you. There’s no words to describe this masterpiece of a vision. He swipes his tongue a little lower, going down to the base and then returning to his first spot. The hot breath he heaves as he pulls his tongue back in to wet it gives you a little thrill. Then, his tongue sweeps all the way up and against the front of your cockhead, and you know he’s now got the taste of your pre-cum, if the short-lived pursing of his lips is any indicator. You know it can’t taste that good, but your boy is full of surprises. After a quick closing of his lips, and a muffled smacking of them, as if he’s savoring the taste and trying to get to a conclusion, he goes back for another taste. And another. He’s holding your gaze, daringly, as he keeps tasting the few drops that keep coming out of you.
Your right hand has a life of its own, finding his soft locks like they’re its home. “Such a good boy for me, Blue.”
Billy always gets a bit more flustered with each time you say that to him. Right now, he’s breathing heavily, only now remembering to use his hands as well. He starts a slow, soft stroke of his hands near the base of your cock while he keeps using his tongue under your head. It’s a nice form of gentle stimulation.
Your finger cards through his curls. “Look at yourself, Billy. Doing so good.” It’s the start of something raunchy, what you’re about to do, but your left hand finds its way to his lips. Your thumb hooks down against the inner part of his cheek and pulls outwards. It’s an obscene image, the beginning of a very obscene expression on him, him with his tongue on a man’s cock, his cheek bulging out.
And yet. The small gasp that resounds in the room does not sound as if he dislikes it.
You end it as quickly as your started it. You get your thumb out and rub it against his lower lip, effectively wetting it. He looks at you with something that looks very much like excitement.
“Try using your lips now, gorgeous.”
He puts his tongue back in his mouth and he swallows and he licks his lips. He briefly looks down in embarrassment and then back at you. He nods. He gets his lips closer to the head of your cock, but he pauses for some seconds here. He pointedly looks at your member now, like he’s gearing up for something. He bites his lower lip. Billy quickly looks up at you and then down again. Then, closes the distance and puts his closed lips to the tip of your cock. The contact is shy, clearly new to him, but what he lacks in experience he makes up for in enthusiasm. Immediately, his lips open, and he starts a gentle suckling on the tip. His eyes are glazed, continuously switching between looking at what he’s doing and looking up at you.
“That’s it…”
Encouraged, he opens his jaw, only to pause for a second and remember to cover his teeth with his lips.
He looks obscene.
“God, Bill, look at you.”
He goes down on you for the first time. The praise on your behalf is taking effect on him: his breathing goes heavier, and he seems to start drooling even though he hasn’t gone so far down yet. His mouth —it’s so open. No doubt his jaw might be sore afterwards— lowers around your cock down to the frenulum, and then lower still.
A small hum from him reverberates on your head. It feels delicious.
“Only what you can, baby. Don’t force yourself.”
His hands on your cock tremble a bit more, but it’s nothing concerning as of right now, because what’s a little bit more of it already? But, you should pay attention to him. As he’s withdrawing and going back down, just a hair’s width further each time, his breathing turns erratic. He quickly looks at you and back down just because he wants to check that’s he’s doing good, that he’s being good, your angel. Even then, that doesn’t seem to compose him at all anymore. The room is filling with the soft sounds of his suckling and his noisy breathing. There’s one or two faint moans in the mix. And that trembling… it’s the subtle shaking of his body this time that tells you something else is up.
Billy starts crying well before he chokes.
“Oh, Billy…”
It’s too late for him to cover it up, but he still tries. Tears are rolling down his cheek first, and then he lowers himself as far as he can, effectively choking this time. He starts a quicker pace, down to that same point that has him gagging every time.
Your hand is soft but firm in his hair as you stop him and pull him off. “You’re hurting yourself.”
Billy doesn’t even look at your eyes after he’s been caught. He uses the back of a hand to wipe at the tears that won’t stop spilling from his eyes, as if you can’t see his pinched eyebrows, the downturn of his lips, the shuddering of his torso drawing in trembling breaths.
The hand you have in his hair goes under his chin. You tilt his head up but he won’t look at you yet. “Talk to me, babe.” Even more tears roll down his cheeks while he shakes his head. “Please?”
This treatment he’s receiving, like he’s a fragile thing not to be messed with, is what does him in. His face turns heartbreaking to look at right now. It’s the grimace a person makes when they’re about to break down.
“It’s so f-fucking— I’m s-so fucking stupid—”
“You’re not.” It’s a commandment, a key principle, something to not be refuted, because it is true. The intensity with which you enunciate it gives him pause and has him staring up at you, vision blurry from the tears. “Tell me what’s wrong?”
The soft caressing under his jaw breaks him a little more. He has to look down for this, otherwise he’ll be a blubbering mess before he even starts speaking. “I… It’s just…” His hands leave your cock for the moment, going to rest on the front of your thighs. “I just— can’t believe I’m finally…”
Oh, baby. “With a man?”
His quick nodding is followed by more tears.
It dawns on you like the biggest epiphany. Of course. He’s never had the chance to be himself, not until he met you and until you could present him with this safe space. This is something so important to him, so much so that he’s been carrying this hurt and this burden his entire life, and now, it all comes out in a steady torrent he can’t seem to shut off.
Everything you want to convey can’t possibly be said in this position, him on his knees in front of your erect cock; this is supposed to be special for him. So, both of your hands go under his jaw and you try to pull him up, to bring him up to his feet and in front of you. But.
He whines. He presses his face to your thigh, adamant about not getting up, like the only way he’ll be able to stay calm is on his knees.
Well. You’re not going to refuse him.
“Baby, look at me.” He does. Billy’s eye peeks from beneath you, and this vision is sure to stay with you for a good while. He hasn’t stopped shedding tears, albeit silently now, and with how fragile he is right now you know it’ll only get more intense starting from now. “You are so brave by telling me this. You were so alone, and now you don’t have to be. And the fact that you chose me of all people?” Your right hand goes to his soft curls and he’s already on his way to weeping again. You lean down until your faces are in front of each other. “I feel so fucking honored.” A kiss on his lips. “I will do everything in my power to make you feel safe at all times.” Another kiss, and he’s blubbering something that vaguely sounds like ‘but you already do!’. You smile at him. “And you’ll always come back to me when anything’s wrong and I’ll make it better, because it’s my duty, because you’re mine, and I’m yours. Okay?”
And everything comes out now. He’s full-on bawling at this point. You kneel down and he throws himself around your shoulders. You’ll hold him for as long as he’ll crying, and he’ll be alright, because he is safe in your arms. Because right now he’s a broken little thing, so beautiful still, the shards from his soul scattered all around, and you are his mender. Your kisses against the side of his head are the liquid gold that will glue the pieces back together.
This is his moment of catharsis.
It’s a surprisingly short-lived affair. After some few thirty seconds, he composes himself enough to gradually stop sobbing. Only trembling breaths reverberating throughout your own body are the indicator that tears are still rolling down, but he’s miles more settled than before.
You caress thoughout the length of his hair. He finally withdraws from the spot in your neck and valiantly tries to look at you. Your hand on his hair goes under his jaw, strokes the chiseled relief. “Better?”
His expression is so soft. You barely remember the last time he looked so calm. “Yeah,” is the hoarse whisper next to your soothing hand.
You lean forward and kiss the few droplets that are still going down. He closes his eyes and sighs, conquered. Turns his head as you’re kissing him and meets your lips, one, two, three times. Gives you the smallest of smiles.
Then he surprises you. His arms untangle from around your shoulders and his hands come to rest on your navel. “C’mon,” he murmurs. “I still want you to— to fuck me.”
Your arms tighten around his waist. “Yeah? You sure?”
Billy gives you a meek little nod.
You both get up. It’s a bit tricky; both of you have been on the hard floor for a while and your legs hurt. You begin to slowly walk the very few steps leading towards the bed, and even that takes a while, since he can’t seem to help himself and stop a few times to kiss you again and again. And it’s not like you’d complain. This is heaven to you.
You reach the foot of your bed. Now, this part is very special, and you have to be able to convey it to him, because he might have settled for the moment, but you suspect that the second you lay him on your bed he might start breaking again a little. So, your arms find their way around his waist. Billy’s arms go around your shoulders once again, like he knows what’s up. And then, slowly, you start tipping him over backwards, feeling a pang of affection with how he’s trusting you with his whole weight, until his back softly hits the bed, so silently the sheets barely rustle.
You settle between his legs.
“Still okay?”
He nods. You lean down, arms still around his waist between him and the mattress, and kiss him long and languidly for good measure. After you separate, there’s a few brief seconds where you just look each other in the eye. He seems to shy away after a while. A couple of tears roll down the sides of his head, and you begin to think it’s something he can’t control, like years of repressed emotions are just leaking out of him absent-mindedly.
You mumble against his lips, quietly, so that you won’t break this bubble: “Okay, gorgeous. Gonna need some lube and a rubber.”
Billy’s gaze turns heated, even as the tears are still rolling out of him. He bites his lower lip and nods.
With the grip on his waist, you push him further up the bed until you’re both comfortably positioned. Your hands fondle the sides of him, up and down his torso, and you feel the tiniest squirm against them. Hm. He’s probably ticklish after all. You give him a small smile and close the distance between your lips. He responds in kind and deepens the kiss. A short groan comes out of his mouth, muffled by your mouth.
While you’ve got him busy, feeling his nervous hands tracing random patterns on your back, you reach out with your right hand until you can open your nightstand’s drawer. Billy hears what you’re doing, but tries not to mind you too much or he’ll lose his nerve, so he keeps on opening his mouth for you, letting you caress his tongue with yours. Without looking, you pull out the objects and close it with the same hand. You lay the tube of lube and the unopened packet on the bed, next to his left hip.
Not wanting to withdraw yet, you start a sensual stroke of your right hand across his torso. His small breakdown just moments earlier have obviously made him flag. Your fingertips press firmly against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, starting a soft massage that leaves him boneless close to you. Then, those same fingers continue their way down his chest. One thing that’ll never stop exciting you is how sensitive his pecs seem to be, so you decide to exploit this fact to the maximum. You grope and rub the meat of his left pectoral in circles. He arches up into you, looking for more of that feel. The thumb of your right hand starts stroking his nipple, and he moans into the kiss. You take advantage of this and bite his lower lip. He shakes against you.
You reluctantly remove yourself from his lips and immediatly attach them to his neck. Without the barrier of your own mouth on his now, he makes small, choked off noises. While he’s distracted, you leave the warm skin of his chest and use that hand to open the lube, pouring some in that same hand single-handedly. You leave it to the side for the moment. Your tongue comes out. It starts tracing a path from the fluttering underneath his jaw and down to the place where your thumb is, and once you’re there, simultaneously, you suck on his pink nipple and enclose his now semi-hard cock with your lubed hand.
The reaction is priceless. He shocks himself with how loud he moans, almost to the point of shouting. He can’t even get on his elbows to watch you as you stimulate him; his arms feel like jelly. Billy can only hold tight against the bedsheet next to the sides of his head. He can’t help but thrust his hips repeatedly against the tunnel of your fingers.
“Needy boy.” He whimpers at that. Your hand moves very slowly up and down his member. “I’ll give you everything you want, and more.”
You move your mouth to his other nipple and do the same, this time with the tiniest, most delicious hint of teeth. He sobs. His cock has gotten fully hard in record time, and is steadily leaking pre-cum now.
“Can you open your legs for me, gorgeous?”
Billy covers his mouth with his right hand, somehow embarrassed at the obscene moan that almost comes out of him. He nods. You remove your hand from his sex, and he whines, even as he watches you lean back to witness him.
The way he flexes his legs, until his feet are against the mattress, and begins parting them, is shy, inexperienced, nervous. It does nothing to quell the pure feel of arousal you get when you finally see the most intimate part of him.
He chews on his fingertips, like he’s so nervous he can’t control his reactions.
“Billy…” You hook your hands under the back of his knees and pull his legs up more, almost bending him in half, wanting to look at him better. He shrieks and rushes to hide his face with his hands. His face is so pink behind them, no doubt. “Fucking perfect. Like you were made for me.” A muffled whine is all you get in response. But, how is he so ashamed of this right now? You are right. He is perfect. And so pink. And tender? And… open… Wait.
Your hands automatically stroke along his thighs until you take hold of his cheeks; he gasps and looks at what you’re doing from between his fingers. Your thumbs open him up.
“Oh my God,” is all he can whimper.
Huh.
You’re positive you might start drooling any point from now. He totally opened himself up for you before coming here. You’re absolutely sure you could fit two of your fingers in him right away.
In fact. Why not?
Your middle and ring finger start rubbing circles against his asshole. He has such a visceral reaction to this that you’re worried he might break down again. Billy uncovers his face and howls; grabs at both of your wrists, the one near his knee and the one close to his entrance. You watch him just in case he wants to stop, but the way he’s holding onto you lets you know he’s doing just that: holding on for dear life, not calling everything off.
“Good?”
He nods, almost enthusiastically, and you’re again hit with a rush of affection for him.
Slowly, as to not spook him too much, the tip of your middle finger starts pushing against his entrance, not forcefully enough to breach him yet. You were right. You could totally sink two fingers in him easily.
Meanwhile, he has started breathing more frantically, expectant of your next moves.
He looks at you. His pupils are so wide that the gorgeous ocean of his irises almost can’t be seen anymore.
You push your middle and ring finger in him, easily, and it’s like sinking into hot velvet.
The look on his face. God. He exhales a moaning breath and his eyes almost cross. You’re sure he’s started tearing up again. His head leans backwards against the bed. His spine sinfully arches up.
You begin a slow, leisured massage in and out of his entrance, index and pinky fingers to the sides of it. He sounds so breathless. His moans are so obscene already, and you’ve barely even started.
“Feels better when someone else does it, hm?”
You believe he didn’t even register that you’ve said something, if the way he keeps on moaning is indicator enough. Not a problem. The answer is clearly yes. Your thick fingers feel like heaven and hell at the same time in him, stretch him so much more than what he’s worked himself with —two fingers, as well— and send currents of pleasure throughout his body.
Your fingers part, effectively stretching him open further, and he makes a noise that sounds a lot like a purr. You lean forwards to look at his face better; his head was tilted back before, too caught in the throes of pleasure to understand anything else.
Billy catches your eye. He looks like a wreck. There are tear trails going up his forehead and now down the sides of his temples.
“Hey, gorgeous. Having fun?”
Your fingers thrust in and out of him a bit faster, and he covers his mouth with his right hand before nodding.
“It’s so hot that you played with yourself before coming here.”
Billy chokes on a moan. “Wh-What?! No— I—” His face gets so pink and he covers his face with his hands.
You smile fondly at him. He still gets so embarrassed at times. Your left hand leaves his leg and pulls at one of his hands, uncovering his face with not much resistance. “Such a good boy for doing that, Bill. Getting ready for me.”
And, as you say this, your fingers press against that bundle of nerves and that has him screaming so loud he can’t stop himself. He covers his mouth with his right hand, and even then he can’t stop the obscene moans filtering through.
But you don’t stop there. Your fingers focus solely against that place, and you begin a circular massage that has him seeing stars and start sobbing against his own hand. Such a perfect picture he paints for you. His hips are shaking, his feet are kicking against the bed. Billy uses his free hand to hold onto the wrist of the hand that’s making him feel in cloud nine, and he pushes with his hips against it.
“Oh, Billy. So good for me. Let me hear you, baby.” Your left hand grabs at his right wrist and pulls his hand away from his mouth. He complies without problem because he’s so out of it. Your fingertips press hard against his prostate, stroke around it, tap against it in random patterns. He’s trembling like a leaf by this point.
His eyes are clenched. He’s biting his lip so hard you’re afraid he might draw blood. You realize he’s trying to say something.
“F— Fast-ter—”
Your fingers start a quicker rhythm. “Yeah?” They thrust in and out of his hole with force now. He wails. He sobs even harder, well on his way to fully crying, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. His left arm goes around your shoulders to hold on for dear life. “Feels good?”
“Ye— Yeah.”
Your fingers are almost vibrating against him with how fast you’re going. His breathing is mostly composed of moans rather than breaths by this point. “You look so gorgeous like this. So perfect for me.”
Billy presses his tearful, agonic face against the side of yours. “Fuck me. Please! Please.”
“In a moment, gorgeous. I have to stretch you more.” He whines so loudly and prolonged it amuses you. He sounds so pouty about it. “Trust me on this one, okay? I can kind of be… well. A lot.”
He whines a bit more but complies, because it’s true. He’s going to need at least four fingers before you can enter him without causing him pain.
You kiss him languidly, trying to calm him down some before proceeding. As he’s distracted within the kiss, you slip your index finger under —or above, more specifically, since your hand is facing up— your middle and ring finger. It’s a tighter fit now. Your fingers are thick and unforgiving inside him, and his whining turns into a more choked off whimpering.
You withdraw your mouth. “Hurts?”
He shakes his head. You don’t think he’s being untruthful, even as he grimaces, because he’s pushing his hips onto your hand. After some seconds of stillness, you move your fingers in and out of him, slowly at first, but quicken the pace right away. He moans right into your mouth. You’re not kissing him, only sharing the same breath, which to him feels somehow more intimate.
He looks at you pointedly from beneath his tears. “Put another.”
You do, and this time, it’s a bit tricky to ease him into it. The fit is too tight as of right now, and he doesn’t realize he’s clenching down on the three fingers you already have in him. You can’t possibly enter him like this.
“Can you relax for me, baby? Be good for me and unclench?”
Billy exhales so loudly it can be taken for a moan. He bites his lip and tries to do as he’s told. Your last finger slips in, only up to the first joint. But your angel is being so good for you, and he deserves a reward that’ll surely give him a bit more encouragement.
“That’s a good boy.” You lower your face down his body, and before he can ready himself for it, your tongue licks a stripe up his cock.
He yells. His legs quiver next to your head, like he wants to trap your head in them but stops himself at the last moment. You give him too little of this, of this oral stimulation, because you can tell it won’t take too much for him now. Only a few swirls of your tongue around his head have him sobbing desperately, but it lands its intended purpose. His hole is lax around your fingers, and you manage to penetrate him with the entirety of your four fingers now.
You grab the backside of his right leg. You kiss a trail from his groin to his knee. “Perfect. I knew you could do it.” Your fingers thrust in and out quickly now.
Billy’s body is shaking and he’s making the most erotic noises now. He’s so out of it that he doesn’t realize that he’s whimpering, “Thank you. Thank you.”
“Oh, Billy.” Your fingers are ruthless against his entrance. “Such a polite boy, thanking me. I should be thanking you for letting me see you like this. If only you could see yourself right now.”
He’s a blubbering mess. He grabs the wrist of the hand that’s pleasuring him. “Now. Now. Please.”
You get your fingers out of him, slowly, though he still whimpers when you’re finally out. You quickly find the package and tear it open. Billy clings onto your shoulders and presses his tearful face against the junction of your shoulder and neck.
“Baby. It’s okay be nervous,” you start, as you roll on the condom and grab the lube bottle. “I’m here. Nothing bad’s ever gonna happen to you here.” You pour lube on your sheathed cock and stroke yourself a couple of times. Your arms go around his waist, and his legs find their way around your hips, like they’re their designated place by default. “I’ll take care of you. Can I take care of you? Please?”
“Please.” His whine resounds wetly, a tremble present in his voice.
This moment is everything for him. The moment when you push forward, slowly, though even then the head of your cock slips in completely, fluidly, and he looks a little bit like he’s dying, and he’s even quieted down, almost to the point of silence, like he needs to watch this part of his life as though he were witnessing a spectacle.
Billy looks at you, and his mouth does that thing where he can’t seem to get the words out, opening and closing on its own. You push your mouth onto him but don’t kiss him, only let him breath against yours, as if you’re his lifeline, his breathing source.
Your hips push forward a bit more, and all of a sudden you’re bottoming out.
He does this noise now, like that of a dying animal. His face is undescribable. He’s in the biggest agony, and yet he looks like he’s having the silent Rapture. Both emotions are strangely accompanied by complete silence. He can’t begin to process this. One thing that’s for sure is that he needs to be treated delicately for a while now, or he’ll truly break.
You kiss the side of his face. He turns his head, not really seeking your lips but just wanting you to be in his field of vision. “Talk to me, babe? Everything okay?”
He breaths heavily. Erratically. The tears are a steady companion now, will be for a good while. Billy looks at you like he hasn’t processed what you’ve said.
“Babe. Okay?”, you repeat, just in case.
The noise starts coming back. He’s moaning lowly without noticing. He shifts his arms around your shoulders, wanting you even closer to him. God. The light blue of his irises is so intense now, made even more so with how red his eyes have gotten.
He finally nods. Slowly at first, but then turning more frantic, pawing at your back, flexing his legs around your hips, urging you to move.
You chuckle a bit and that almost makes his eyes roll back in his skull. “Tell me how it feels?”
He exhales shakily a few times, like he can’t get enough air in to tell you his answer. “G-Good. So good. So full.”
“Yeah?” You knew he would. Your big cock is stretching him so much, you’re surprised he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. “Doesn’t hurt?”
He shakes his head. That makes this easier.
“Good boy.” He whines against your lips at this. “You were made for me. Taking me in so easily. Look so good split on my cock.”
He’s weeping, but he feels so accomplished now. Fulfilled. So wanted.
Billy closes the short distance and you do, too. The kiss is long and steamy. Half of it is just you giving his lips little bites that he can’t get enough of. A quarter of it is him inviting you into his mouth, licking inside yours and you responding in kind. Through all of it, his moaning gets louder, more whiny, more needy.
You bite his lower lip and drag it backwards, ending a kiss that he chases, again, so predictable and delectable. Sufficiently stimulated, Billy caresses your hips with his legs, whining a bit more. He’s so ready.
Your arms, hooked around his waist, work as an anchor as you begin pulling out of him, almost to the tip, something that has him shaking and whimpering already. Then, you push forward in the same leisured pace until you bottom out again.
His moans get desperate, even though you haven’t done much yet. “Go faster. Faster.”
You give him a steamy kiss and do as you’re told, pulling out and then giving a forceful thrust that has him wailing into your mouth. Then, you do it again. And then you start a steady rhythm that sends a current of pure unadulterated pleasure through his body. It’s not strong enough for him to feel it through his bones, but it still has Billy grasping at your back like you’re his only anchor. The way he’s moaning now leaves you wondering what he’ll sound like when you really start pounding into him. The image concerns you and leaves you breathless at the same time.
Billy’s legs are quivering around your hips already. You’re sure his hands are leaving scratch marks down your back, and the simple thought is delicious. His moans are breathy against your mouth. And the way he clenches around your cock is undescribable. He feels so hot, so tight, even through the condom.
He paints the prettiest picture. His face reflects how much he’s feeling right now, the steady stream of tears down his temples having never stopped. You don’t think you’ll ever see anything more beautiful.
“Is this how you’d thought it would feel?”, you ask, breathless as well, because no one who looks at this masterpiece can remain unmoved.
He shakes his head and tries to quiet his moans. “N-No. This is— ah— s-so much better. Never thought I would— oh— earn this!”
You press him tighter against you within the shield of your arms while you quicken your pace. “You never had to earn this. This —I— was always yours.” You press heavy kisses on his neck while he sobs. “I want to get this through to you.” Your hips slap against his skin, turning this moment into something so sensual and intimate at the same time. “You deserve to be happy.”
Billy begins crying in earnest. It almost makes you slow down before he tightens his legs around your waist, clearly indicating that he wants you to go faster. You comply, anything for your boy, and pound into him so hard that you feel it vibrate around him.
Your arms untangle from his waist and your hands grab at the back of his knees, bending him in half while you keep a fast pace.
“Yes! Yes!”
“I need you to believe it,” you say while you piston in and out of him. “You have to understand how much you mean. Not only to me, but by yourself.”
“Thank you! Thank you s-so mu-uch!” He looks almost overwhelmed with pleasure and emotions. He can barely keep his eyes open.
“You are enough, and more. I love you, Blue. Love you so fucking much.”
That’s Billy’s breaking point. It’s the first time either of you has said it, and he can’t take it. He starts coming untouched, shocked by himself, but pushes on around his pleasure. “L-Love you. I love you. I love you!” He repeats it like a mantra, in a moan, in a sob, defeated by this feel, so intense that he truly breaks down.
This is the strongest orgasm he’s ever had, and he can’t get enough of it. Tries to prolong it, doesn’t want it to ever end, even as he feels almost faint from it, his walls clenching down on you almost painfully.
Before it starts ebbing away, he tries to clamp his legs around you, both still in your grip. “Keep going. Keep going. Please.”
You curse and keep your quick pace. You know he’s finished when he starts moving against you almost erratically, overstimulated, his moans almost screams now. But he doesn’t tell you to stop. “Yeah? You’re gonna let me in you? Let me love you?” Your thrusts turn erratic as well.
“Yes! Yes! Please!” He’s shaking his head, so overwhelmed by the onslaught of your hips, now almost painful with how stimulated he is. His legs quake in your strong grip.
“I’m going to. You’re gonna get so much love, Billy.” You feel a pull at your gut. “So much and even more.”
“Please!”
You grunt next to his ear, and his moans turn airy and high-pitched, barely holding himself together. A few frantic thrusts more, and you’re releasing into the condom, grunting out your pleasure to him. He answers with loud moans, so overwhelmed, almost to the point of blacking out when he feels the warmth of your cum within the condom in him.
He’s still sobbing loudly as you slow down, but there’s a small, dopey smile on his face now.
You pull out and lie next to him, and he immediately attaches himself to you. Billy cries so loudly. He holds you around the shoulders and you hold him close to you, letting him vent all of his remaining emotions to you. But this is the beginning of something new, something different.
Those are happy tears now.
Oops. I didn’t mean for this to get so poetic and long. Lol
Edit: Yes, I changed the header for this work. I hope I’m not being too exaggerated.
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Rise : Chapter Eighteen
A Rafe Cameron Series
[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]
WC: 4.9k
Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | MASTERLIST | FINALE
all AI images are created from prompts i wrote. they are not real images.
IMPORTANT NOTE*: final warning to those on my taglist. if you do not interact with this post within 24 hours after not interacting with the hella fuckin' Rafe Cameron oneshots i posted last week, you will be removed. i do not like being strict but i am not asking for a lot. if you've been interacting then this message is not for you. but if you haven't been... i'm sorry. you will be removed.
You didn’t stop running until it started to get dark. You headed south, like you & Bear planned, but wasn’t stupid enough to think you had pulled one over on Rafe. Micah was a damn good tracker, they would see that you took off in the opposite direction you led them in. You knew you couldn’t outrun them forever, especially with the physical pain you were in, but you would be damned if you didn’t try your hardest. You were convinced that if you could get far enough, that it’d be just out of reach of Rafe’s clutches & then you’d be free.
More importantly, you hoped to run into Bear. The forest you were running through was never-ending though. For miles in either direction you’d only find more forestry. That worked in your favor though. The furthest away you were from civilization the better. Rafe would anticipate you looking for shelter. But you had a backpack full of survival goods. There was no tent or sleeping bag but you’d make do. You’d learn how to survive on your own in the woods, at least until you found Bear.
By the time you stopped running, the sky above the trees was turning into a dark blue. The trees were growing denser with darkness. Traveling any further would be a risk but you couldn’t risk being found. However, you had to at least slow down. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t stop moving until you crossed the border into South Carolina, exhaustion be damned.
But your body had other plans. Your back was aching, the wounds having opened up in your attack against Adrianna. Your feet were sore as well from running for so long. You could feel yourself growing weaker as you walked, your limbs carrying you slowly. Whether you wanted to or not, you’d have to stop & get some rest.
You peered into the darkness until you found some thick foliage that would make do for some cover. You fell to your knees & crawled into the brush. You ignored your minor fears of snakes & spiders, as there were bigger, scarier things to fear now. You tucked your feet in so they wouldn’t be exposed & shoved your backpack into a small crevasse where you could lay your head. After you felt you would get as comfortable & as safe as possible, you kept your knife & gun right beside you.
The sounds of the forest sung around you. Cicadas, a light breeze rustling the treetops, a nearby creek with trickling water. You allowed your eyes to flutter clothes as you laid on your stomach, desperate to fall asleep & perhaps wake to a better world.
Something kicked your foot & you shot your eyes open. Having forgotten you were sleeping within foliage, your head became covered in leaves, sticks, & who knows what else. Another kick & you gasped. Peering through the leaves of where you hid, you could see someone standing outside your hiding spot, your ankle exposed for all to see.
It was daytime. You scrambled to grab your gun & knife but they were nowhere near you.
“Out.” A man’s voice sounded, “Hands first then the rest o’ya.”
Gulping you strained to see as much as the stranger as you could but your hiding spot had done too good a job of shielding other from your point of view.
“Out!” The voice yelled, “Or I start shooting.”
“Okay!” You finally responded, “Okay, don’t shoot, I’m coming out.”
Getting to your knees, & wincing at the stinging stiffness of your back, you pushed your hands through the foliage so the stranger could see them. You slowly crawled forward until you were completely out of the brush & on your knees before the stranger.
Your eyes squinted at the change in brightness. You shielded your eyes from the sun so you could glance up at the man before you.
He was gruff looking, like a nomad. His clothes were layered & blended well with the forest around you. He had a full beard that was thick with many gray hairs & a wool cap on his head. His brows were in a frown as he glared down at you warily. And it was only then that you noticed he was pointing a bow & arrow at you. You gulped, your eyes staring wide-eyed at the nomad’s weapon.
“Whose blood is that?” He questioned, aiming his bow at your chest.
You followed his line of sight. Your white top was caked in Adrianna’s blood, along with earthen residue from your sleepover in the foliage.
You eyes met his again, fearful of what he would do to you.
“I won’t ask again, young lady.”
“It’s…” Your voice was hoarse & you frowned, clearing it, “Someone who was trying to kill me.”
“Did they have good reason to?”
That made you shake. What kind of question was that?
“No.” You ultimately responded.
“Why were they trying to kill you?”
“Because…” You pressed your lips together in thought, sure that any answer you’d give would only prolong your inevitable death. “Because I was trying to escape.”
The man eyed you from being his bow & arrow, “Where you escape from?”
“A hell-hole.” You returned, shaking your head in disbelief.
Running from Rafe was the best thing you could do for yourself, but you only ran into more trouble. Perhaps, into someone worse, though you didn’t think anyone could be worse than Rafe.
A branch snapped from behind you & you whipped your head around, panic gripping your heart. But your heart slowed as you took in the appearance of a young woman, maybe high school age, appear from behind a tree.
“Goddamnit!” The man hissed from behind you, “I told you to stay hidden until I got to the bottom of this.”
Your eyes flickered between the two & you watched in curiosity as the young girl began signing to the man with her hands. She pointed at you, a frown on her face as she spoke without words.
The man grunted & sighed, stealing your attention once more.
“You hurt?” He questioned, gesturing to something behind you. But when you glanced back you were confused at what he was gesturing to you.
“Your back.”
“Oh.” You blindly reached towards your back but the man raised his bow higher.
“Don’t!”
“I—I don’t have anything on me, I swear. I did—a gun & knife—but I don’t know where they are.”
“I have them.” He admitted, “Now, are you hurt?”
“Yes.” You breathed out.
The man’s eyes flicked to the young girl behind you, nodding.
“My daughter.” He told you as you heard & felt the young girl approach, “She can take a look for you.”
You nodded shakily.
“But don’t think of trying anything. I’ll end your life in a second.”
“I know.” You breathed out, “I won’t.”
Glancing over your shoulder, you watched as the young girl approached slowly. Your eyes met & you could see the sadness there as she peered at you before getting close enough to touch. Then she kneeled down behind you & reached for the hem of your crop top.
A hiss passed between your teeth as the fabric of your top peeled away from your back. The wounds Micah left having split open & caked blood stuck to your shirt.
The young girl shuddered & covered her mouth, her eyes watering. Then she looked up at her father, signing yet again.
You watched as the man understood what she told him.
“Someone do that to you?” His eyes met yours once again.
You gulped, “Lots of someone’s.”
“You kill them?”
“No.” Your voice shook, “Only one…but there’s more.”
“They after you?”
If you admitted that they were, the man & young girl would leave you, but if you lied & said they weren’t, you’d risk their lives.
“Yes.”
The man inhaled sharply, nodding at his daughter to move away.
“You dangerous?”
The question made you falter.
No.
But you had killed Adrianna. You were capable of taking another life.
“I don’t know.” You admitted, “I’m just trying to survive.”
You felt your eyes fluttering closed. He would either kill you or leave you defenseless. Neither was desirable. But you had no choice in the matter.
A shuffle forced your eyes open & you watched in mild surprise as the man swung the bow onto his back. He stepped forward, offering his hand, “You can come with us. But only for today & tonight. Then you’re on your own. I got a daughter to protect & you look to be trouble.”
“I understand.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, giving him your hand, “Thank you.”
“C’mon then. Get your things. We got a bit of a hike to our campsite.”
Their campsite was incredible. You had never seen anything like it before. It made you recall all those post-apocalyptic films that are set in the woods & you were truly living in one now.
The man put his gear away along the cavern wall as his daughter led you to the edge of the small body of water.
She signed at you & you watched as your hands & fingers attempted to speak to you. But you frowned, shaking your head, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“You need to take your shirt off. So she can clean your wounds.”
You frowned at that. The young girl looked to her father then back to you, nodding.
“I—” Your eyes fell to the man whose back was to you, “I don’t—”
“Don’t worry.” The man grumbled, “I’m going back out to check the traps. You two can be alone.”
With that, the man disappeared the way you all came & you breathed a sigh of relief. The young girl beside you chuckled lightly at that. Your eyes met hers & you smiled weakly.
“Sorry. I just don’t trust people. Especially men.”
She nodded at that before reaching for your shirt. You raised your arms so she could remove the bloodied & dirtied shirt from your body.
The young girl worked on your back for some time. It was almost soothing, despite the pain. You had your toes slid into the water & your knees to your chest as she cleaned & disinfected your wounds before dressing them. Afterwards, you felt far better off than you had when Adrianna’s dressed them.
When she finally stood up, gesturing for you to do the same, you smiled at her, “Thank you.”
She signed back.
But as you approached your backpack near the center of the campsite, it was only then that you realized you didn’t have any other clothes to wear. Rafe hadn’t packed that far ahead. You supposed you could wear your bloodied shirt again, but before you could manage to do that, the young girl appeared from within the tent, a pile of folded clothes in her hands.
“For me?” You asked. She confirmed by handing them to you.
“How do you say, ‘thank you’ in sign language?” You asked, accepting the pile of clothes.
The young girl brought her hand to her chin, touching it, before moving it away & towards you.
You mimicked the movement. She nodded.
In the tent, you quickly got dressed, save for the thick jacket. Though it was beginning to become autumn outside, it was still much too warm during the day to wear it. But it would come in handy during the night.
The man returned & he carried a wire string of fish hanging from his first, “Whose hungry?”
It was shortly after sun fell when you sat by a dimly lit fire in the cavern. The man purposefully kept it low, informing you that the bigger the fire the stronger the smell. He gave you a few lessons in survival & taught you tips to aid you in outrunning Rafe.
He was a doomsday prepper, telling you he had known this day would be coming for a long time. You had heard of people like him, but you were surprised to see him out in the world rather than in a bunker.
“Unfortunately, I didn’t have the funds to build a bunker, but I sure tried.” He told you, his voice deep & rough as he watched the fire burn.
“But we heard on a radio transmission about a commune up north. Survivors. Apparently, the virus hasn’t affected the area.”
You recalled having heard something similar back at the military compound. It felt like ages ago that that ever happened. Back when all of your friends were alive & on the same team.
“It’s probably bullshit.” You commented mindlessly.
The man chuckled at that but nodded, “Probably. But I gotta think about my daughter. If she has a better chance of survival there then I gotta get her there.”
His daughter was asleep in the tent at that point. The opening to the tent was zipped halfway, but you could make out her forehead just inside there.
“Was she born deaf?” You questioned.
The man grunted & shifted in his seat before nodding towards the tent, “She ain’t deaf.”
What?
Before you could ask further, the man continued.
“But her mama was.” He revealed.
“Oh.” You frowned at that, “Where’s she?”
He sighed heavily, peering into the embers, “She dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
The man eyed you but nodded.
“Was it the virus?”
“No.” He shook his head, “Thank Christ. Cancer. She died a couple years ago.”
Cancer, just another death sentence.
“Ever since then…she hasn’t spoken.” He said, referring to his daughter, “Docs said it was a trauma response so I let it go thinking she would outgrow it but…she has yet to.”
“She’s lucky to have you.” You told him. His eyes met yours.
“Where are your folks?”
You shrugged, not having thought about them in a long time, “Dead. Probably.”
He grunted at that, “Sorry to hear it.”
“I think what kills me the most about it is that my mom probably died alone. In her bed, in our big empty house. I have no clue where my dad was. He was a pilot, always traveling, always gone.”
The man nodded along as you spoke.
“I try not to think about it.” You admitted.
“I understand that.”
“Where are you two from?” You asked.
The man took a swig from his water bottle before answering, “A little farm outside Chesterfield. You?”
“Tampa.” You replied, “But I was going to school in Gainesville when the virus hit.”
The man whistled knowingly, “That’s a long ways away. You traveled that far with your group, huh?”
“Kind of.” You muttered, recalling all the events leading up to that moment, “Before everything fell apart, before sides were taken & trust was broken.”
“This kid that’s after you… think he’ll give up?’
You frowned. Rafe was never the kind to give up.
“No.” Your voice was barely audible.
The man sighed at that. Then he moved, reaching into a bag near his feet. You watched as he pulled out your gun & knife.
“I was gonna wait to give these back to you till mornin’.” He admitted but then handed them to you, “But I trust you need them more for protection than to cause harm.”
“Thank you.” You breathed out, accepting them back.
“I’m sorry you can’t come with us.” He said but you shook your head in response, “Don’t be. It’s better off this way. I wouldn’t want him hurting either of you.”
“You gonna keep heading south?”
“Mmm.” You nodded, tucking your knife & gun away, “A friend of mine was supposed to come this way.”
It was then that you discussed with him Bear. His appearance, his personality, his protectiveness over you. Unfortunately, the man had never seen him. So, he would be unable to tell you if you were heading in the right direction.
Afterwards, the man stomped out the fire before cracking his back, “I oughta get some shut-eye now. I laid out a sleeping back in the corner there for ya.”
“Thank you.”
“S’no problem.” He grunted before making way towards the tent. He did not go inside but zipped it up before lying on the ground outside of it.
You followed suit & crawled into the sleeping bag he laid out for you. Much like the night before, you listened to the sounds of your environment. The waterfall was like a lullaby as you eventually succumbed to sleep.
Morning came & before you knew it you were facing the man & his daughter as you prepared to split off from them.
“Remember what I taught you.” The man started as he eyed you.
“I know.” You raised your feet to show the socks of your boots. He said it would help not only cover your tracks but also silence your steps. “Thank you for everything.”
The young girl mustered a smile as she watched you.
“If you change your mind, we’ll be heading towards Worcester. I left a map circled with where you can find our campsite near there if you want to follow inside your backpack.”
You smiled at that, but you would not be able to follow them, not for as long as you knew Rafe was still out there.
“Please be careful. Rafe, he’s…dangerous. He won’t hesitate to kill you, either of you.”
It terrified you, imagining Rafe putting a bullet into the man & his young daughter’s skulls.
The man grunted but nodded.
“Oh, &, if you do see my friend, Bear, will you tell him I’ll be where he lost his last game of beer pong.”
“Sorry?” The man asked.
“He’ll know what you mean.”
“If I see him, I’ll pass along your message.”
“Thank you.” You voiced before eyeing the girl. You thanked her in sign language. She signed back.
“Be safe, now.” The man said once more with finality.
“You, too.”
153 days since the world ended
It took nearly two weeks before you reached your destination. Thanks to the man & his daughter, you were well-equipped for the lengthy travel. You only had the one set of clothes that the young girl gave you but you stopped every three days to wash them thoroughly. They had also given you plenty of food & taught you how to trap fish on days when you needed to rest & eat.
The first couple days you had been reasonably paranoid. Though the man & his daughter were a surreal break from the reality of being hunted down, you were back to being on alert all the time. However, as the days continued & you moved further south, you grew confident that Rafe was far in your rearview mirror. You decided to yourself that you would stay at the house for only a couple days, leaving a hidden note somewhere for Bear to find should he come looking for you, before you would move on. One thing you knew about being hunted was that you couldn’t stop moving.
It was bittersweet seeing the city limit sign for Gainesville. You had stuck to the woods, wide fields, & abandoned roads in your two week trek back to your college town. You had contemplated moving towards Tampa, but Bear did not know where you lived with you family there. So, you would leave a note in his room telling him where to find you if he didn’t show up after a couple days.
Gainesville had changed little in the five months you had been gone. It was clear the town was abandoned. Cars were covered in dust & rusting under the previous summer sun. Business establishments & homes were cleared out, doors hanging off their hinges & windows broken to reveal the havoc within. You did well to stay hidden as you walked the streets, pausing often to listen for any potential signs of life. But none ever came.
It wasn’t long before you turned onto Greek row & approached the abandoned fraternity house. You stood on the sidewalk for some time, staring up at it. The last time you had been there was when you all returned from camping. Now, you were alone. The lawn was overgrown & there was a few broken windows, but otherwise, the house was in good condition. You approached hesitantly.
Once on the porch, you pushed the door open & it creaked with your arrival. You stood outside for a moment longer & listened intently. It was peacefully quiet. You produced your gun from your waistband & entered the house. You did a thorough walk-through of the whole house, second floor & basement included, before you felt confident that there was no life.
You returned to the main floor & locked the door, pushing a heavy piece of furniture in front of it. You knew it wasn’t the only entrance to the house but most people would try to come through the front door.
In the kitchen, you glanced around. It looked as if time had stopped. Evidence of the ‘We Wear Pink on Wednesday’s’ end of school celebration party was still there. Red solo cups littered the floor & counter tops. Pink streamers hung wryly from doorframes. A plethora amount of liquor bottles were piled in the sink. You stood there for some time, remembering how not so long ago, you had been in that very kitchen watching your friends battle against one another in a game of beer pong as you & Rafe took shots on the sidelines.
Rafe. The memory dulled your senses. Who knew this was the world ending would lead to?
In the fridge, you were not surprised to find anything. The boys rarely had food anyway & what little you did find was rotten & moldy. You slammed the door shut before heading for the stairs. You walked down the lengthy corridor that houses many of the frat brother’s private rooms. On the wall was pictures of members, past & present. You paused when you spotted the face of your boyfriend smiling proudly in one.
Your heart shattered as you looked at Sayyed’s friendly face. He was in the middle of Rafe & Bear, the three of them in good spirits at what looked to be a pep rally. You remembered that day well. But then your eyes cast over to the man on Sayyed’s left. Rafe. He was never a friend, no matter how much he looked like one in photos.
Leaving the picture, you trailed the rest of the hallway until you reached a door near the end. Sayyed’s.
Inhaling sharply, you steeled yourself & pushed the door open.
It looked almost like how he left it. His drawers & clothes were scattered on the floor, his bed unmade. His closet doors were open & hangers stuck out from him having gathered clothes in a haste. You felt your muscles relax as you took in his room. You had spent many nights there, cuddling with him in bed as the two of you watched reruns of Spongebob. He was your home away from home.
Walking around to the other side of his bed, you sat down, glancing at his nightstand. In a picture frame was a photo collage of his friends & family. Nuha was in a lot of them, looking glamourous as always. Behind that picture was another. You fingered it & picked it up.
“Hey, you.” You whispered as your finger traced over his face.
It was the two of you. Both smiling as you stood one of the many beaches in Tampa. That was taken the first time you brought him home to meet your parents. He spent half the summer with you. You grinned openly as you remembered him chasing you into the ocean as you two wrestled to throw the other under the small waves. Both of you looked so happy to be alive, to be there together.
Your vision blurred as tears threatened to fall.
How did it feel like all the time in the world had passed? How did it feel like he never existed? How had it only been five months yet it felt like five hundred years?
You sniffled, bringing the picture frame to your chest as you lied down on your back. In the two weeks it took you two arrive there, your back had healed greatly. It was stiff often but the pain had disappeared over time. There were still a few scabs, & you could still feel the ridges of the wounds as they scarred over, but they were mostly gone for the most part. As for your fingers, they too had healed. Adrianna had set them before your escape & since you had little opportunity to really strain them, you were able to use them. Kind of. You didn’t push hard, relying on your left hand as much as you could, but you were relieved that your body was healing. All that was left to mend was your mind.
It was dark when you opened your eyes. You groaned softly, not having meant to fall asleep in Sayyed’s bed. You pushed yourself up, the picture falling into your lap as you did. You eyed it once more before returning it to the nightstand. Your mouth was dry. You needed to drink water.
Reprimanding yourself, you remembered then that you left your backpack downstairs in the kitchen. You knew better than to part with your survival goods. Leaving Sayyed’s room, you began walking down the hall when you stopped abruptly. The door to the room next to Sayyed’s was open. Normally that wouldn’t have bothered you, as you didn’t specifically note which doors in that hallway were open or closed, but it bothered you greatly because it was the door that led to Rafe’s old room.
Staring at it, you felt your heart quicken. Could he be on the other side?
But you shook your head. It had been over two weeks since you escaped Rafe. If he was still chasing after you, he wouldn’t have beaten you here. And even if he had…did he know you well-enough to think you’d come there? If anything, you’d’ve gone to your apartment with Millie. It’s why you ultimately chose the frat house. It wouldn’t be expected.
Steeling yourself, you kicked in the door to Rafe’s room. It was dark & the only light came from the moon outside that cast it’s light through the sole window. You kept your hand on your gun, finger over the trigger, as you took a step inside. It was quiet, barren, lifeless.
You breathed out a sigh of relief.
Perhaps you’d leave sooner than later. Even if coming to frat house was unexpected, you still couldn’t put it past Rafe to check every single place he knew you knew about. Your plan to stay there for a couple days would be cut short. You’d get some water, go back to sleep, & in the morning you’d take what you could from the house, leave a note for Bear in his room, then leave. You had to keep moving.
Back downstairs, you entered the kitchen, spotting your backpack on the table that was commonly used for beer pong. You began approaching it when you stopped again, though this time for a more terrifying reason.
In the darkness, against the backdrop of the window on the other side of the table, was a silhouette.
Your heart raced.
No. It was your imagination. A trick of the light. Your paranoia.
But then the silhouette moved, leaning forward against the table. And as it did, you finally caught the glint of something evil in the eyes that met your own.
“You should’ve kept running, _____.” Rafe’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard as you reeled backwards. But you didn’t get far when you felt yourself crash against a solid figure.
Spinning around you were horrified to find Micah standing behind you.
Immediately, you yanked out your gun, prepared to fire blindly but Micah swung a closed fist towards your face & you fell to the ground, your gun skidding into the darkness.
A shrill scream erupted from you as you desperately crawled backwards.
“No!” You cried out—angry, scared.
Your back met a wall of cabinets & you thrashed away from Micah’s outstretched hand as he attempted to catch your ankle. But your fight was quickly snuffed out as Micah dragged you back to the center of the kitchen. He straddled your hips with one hand on your sternum holding you down, & the other gathering a fistful of your hair at the back of your head.
Rafe appeared above you then, the darkness only adding to their insidious intentions. He cocked his head, feigning a frown.
“How?” You winced, glaring up at him.
Rafe shook his head, “I know you better than you do.”
Then you watched in horror as he glanced at Micah. Nodding.
“No!” You screamed once more, but your scream died on your lips as Micah brought another fist to your face. And another. And another. Until you collapsed against the linoleum of the kitchen, blood seeping from your nose & mouth.
Your vision swayed & blackened as you heard the mean speak above you, but their words were muffled & faded.
Subconsciousness came for you & this time, you hoped it would swallow you whole.
after a brief break to complete the celebration requests, i am back with the second to last chapter of Rise! the next chapter will be the finale & trust me when i say...it'll be a doozy.
as always, please share your thoughts/feelings w me via commenting, reblogging w reviews, or dropping an ask. i love to hear it, especially with the end so close!
thank you for reading
oona<3
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#dark!rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#dark!rafe cameron x reader#dark!fic#dark!fanfiction#non con fic#outer banks fanfiction#dark!outer banks#rise chapter eighteen
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How the TF2 Mercs would react to you wanting to paint their nails <3
a/n: I hope you guys will appreciate this, TF2 holds a special place in my heart, I've loved it for years so doing this makes me all giddy inside.
If you have ay requests, please message me! I do CoD and TF2!! Enjoy! <3
Scout
Would be like "I ain't into that type of things, Toots."
After some convincing would let you paint his thumb and only his thumb.
Perhaps he sees you all happy while doing it and says it's okay for just *one more* finger.
Square nails, I don't make the rules.
Which then turns into his whole hand.
Shows it off to the team because YOU were the one who did it and they should be jealous.
"TAKE A FUCKIN GANDER YA BUNCH OF PANSIES"
Would pick off the nail polish as a habit during briefings or when he's not paying attention.
Feels bad coming back to you with his awful manicure.
"Don't be such a stick in the mud, at least you get to hold my hand." Dick
Medic
Would love to have you paint his nails, but he thinks it would cause issues during his procedures
Ya know, cuz he doesn't wear gloves....for whatever reason
"Please.... :(" "Oh... Meine Taube.. How can I ever say no to you?"
100% Short round nails. Maybe not slender/skinny fingers, but they're def on the thinner side.
Ends up forcing himself to wear gloves just so they won't get ruined.
He thinks your careful and skilled hands are very attractive and "intriguing" as you paint them.
He's weird like that, You love it.
He loves you....maybe too much....He'd probably cut your hands off if you said yes.
He's the type to ask lol
Spy
No
No again
Stop asking
He wears gloves anyways, why do you want to so bad?
He doesn't have time for these silly games!!!!
"Mon canard, Please. This is too immature for me" "So you're saying you don't love me?" *Smug look*
You win
He has very nice nails by the way. Perfect nails, perfect slender hands.
He doesn't really say much, but you can tell from his eyes he enjoys such an intimate moment.
He tells noone and shows noone, but he likes to be in his room jsut looking at them, thinking of you.
Would do yours if you asked....nicely
Pyro
I mean this is obviously a yes.
The gloves are off before you finish your sentence.
Scarred hands, maybe missing a nail on a finger, but that's okay.
Picks the colors, they want pink. Lotta pink.
Get's excited when you bring up stickers.
Rocks a pink and purple manicure with a flower sticker on their missing nail.
Becomes a weekly thing, your little spa day. :)
Heavy
Skeptical, but why not? Couldn't hurt.
Lot of surface area, dudes hands are bigger than your face.
He finds it amusing that your hands are so small compared to his.
He's letting you paint his nails, but he'd like some dark colors.
Maybe not black, more like blue or maybe red occasionally/
"One sticker?" "No sticker, thank you" "Okay one sticker" "...Okay, for you"
Sniper
"If it'll make ya happy, doll."
Falls asleep as you paint them.
Rough hands, tan lines from his gloves, he has dirty finger nails :Gross:
You throw in some....cleaning... just cuz you care.
I love this man so much, but oh my god I just know he's musty.
You give him plain black nails, one white nail on his ring fingers
You don't do his thumb, you notice the big bruise under his nail, idk what those are called.
I looked it up it's called Garand Thumb (It's so canon)
You fight with him because you wanna know of it's like a hematoma or not (Gross I know, but I'd do it)
Engineer
Well it's not something he'd find himself doing on his own, would probably think it's silly until he met you.
"As long as I don't look all frou frou after, I'm fine with anything Darlin' "
AAAA TALK TO ME LIKE THAT
Thick fingies, like fat hands a bit, slightly rough because of how much he works. Only slightly because he still wears gloves.
I like to think his hands are covered in oil/dirt most of the time, He does wash them, but he's just always workin on something.
Would wash them before you paint them though. Lovely little you can't be getting your perfect hands dirty.
He wants yellow, give him yellow nails. Like sunshine yellow, like his hat.
He thinks it's "Just lovely lookin' "
Demoman
You don't ask, you just paint them while he's passed out drunk.
You give him rainbow nails, Glitter top coat. You're so mean
Surprisingly soft hands, Big and thick, very soft. My goodness you're even jealous by how nice they are.
He even has the perfect nails for painting. What doesnt this man have?
Oh wait
He's PISSED when he wakes up.
Probably calls it gay (But like....worse)
Sees you sad because of how he reacted.
Slumps in his chair, "They're 'right...."
Grows to like them (more like live with them)
Maybe in like 2 weeks to see hims again, they're still painted, just a bit withered away.
He loves em
Soldier
"DO I LOOK LIKE SOME SORT OF PANSY TO YOU, MAGGOT???"
You offer to do them in the colors of the American flag
He accepts obviously
You do it standing up cause he is just...there. Stiff as a board.
Wide nails, Rough knuckles, calluses.
When you're done he salutes you.
"Well done, Maggot. Now I won't have to kill you." Sure buddy
I hope you guys liked it!!
#tf2#tf2 scout#tf2 medic#tf2 spy#tf2 pyro#tf2 heavy#tf2 sniper#tf2 engineer#tf2 soldier#tf2 demoman#tf2 x reader#team fortress#tf2 imagines#shoukiko
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Catfish to BigFish feat. Dark!Frankie Morales
Summary: Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. But how did Frankie 'Catfish' Morales, the coke-addicted, lanky mess of a man become its leader? And where did the moniker 'BigFish' come from?
Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 2,283 | 3+/- years before OTWF begins
Content Warning: threats of violence, crime, violence, betrayal, Big Fish is a bad man in the making, character death, allusions to drug use, swearing, choking, punching, eating, comments on body, weight gain, friendship but at what cost?, Tom is a bag of smashed assholes
Author's Notes: this is a prequel showing us the how, what, why, and where roughly three years before Honey comes into the picture in Chapter One: Signed and Sealed.
The biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for brainstorming this with me and to @strang3lov3 and @noxturnalpascal for their love and eyes. Pour one out for @xdaddysprincessxx - she will need all the hydration she can get.
On the Waterfront Masterlist
“If it were anyone else…”, Tom warned.
“Yeah, we know. But it’s not. It’s Fish. He’s one of us.”
Pope sat back and watched Will do something none of them thought they’d have to do – convince Tom to give a shit.
“He’s a fuckin’ coke head! Snortin’ our own shit and lyin’ about it!”, Tom boomed, standing over Will. “You ran the fuckin’ numbers, you can see how much money we lost up his fuckin’ nose! And now you wanna spend more money tryin’ to get that fucker clean again?”
Will didn’t bend. He didn’t shrink and he didn’t back down. “It’s Frankie. Catfish. Our Catfish. And he needs help.”
Tom huffed harshly enough in Will’s face that his hair moved, then turned his ire to Pope.
“You think Fish’s worth it? Already cost us a shit load of money and Will wants to blow more on that fuckhead.”
Pope slipped into his smooth and nonchalant voice and crossed his arms. He’d hoped this would give Tom the impression that he was just as unnerved and steadfast as Will.
“You know he’d do the same thing for any of us.”
“Fuckin’ altruistic bullshit!”, Tom barked, slamming his fist on the table.
Pope felt his blood heating up and his jaw tightening. Will looked over at him quickly, his blue eyes ice cold and angry, and then back to Tom.
“I disagree. He’s just as much my brother as Benny is. Or you, or Santi. He’s family and I’ll get’m help as many times as possible. And you know what you’re sayin’s bullshit-“
“Fuck you and your fuckin’ family values dog shit! You and I both know that he’s gonna get clean, last a week or two, then shit’s gonna start goin’ missing again and he’s gonna be right back to bein’ the fuckin’ crypt keeper he looks like now! He’s not gonna change. We need to cut him loose and let him kill himself. He made his choice, Will! Admit it - Fish ain’t worth it!”
Will stood up and moved close to Tom, almost nose to nose. Yeah, Tom was bigger, stronger even, but Will was precise and skilled in a way that seeing him square up like that scared Pope. He unfolded his arms and stepped forward.
“Hey! Hold up! We’re not gonna do th-“
“You’re supposed to be our leader – our fuckin’ captain.”, Will seethed lowly. “I’m not gonna take orders from some mother fucker who decides to ‘cut loose’ one of our own. Fish needs our help and fuck you for turnin’ your back on’ im.”
Tom glared at Will. “Fine.”, he spat, then dug his index finger in Will’s chest. “But when he he fuckin’ OD’s, it’s on you!”
*****
It felt like more than 90 days when Pope rolled up in front of the rehab centre to pick up Frankie, and when he saw him standing outside, waiting for him, he frowned. Not because he wasn’t glad to see him looking better and fuller, but because this was the third time he had picked Frankie up from a stint in rehab.
Frankie pulled open the passenger door and slid in, not daring to look up.
“Fish…”, Pope broke the silence as he put the car in drive. “You look good - ”
“How mad is he this time?”, Frankie interjected.
Pope sighed, knowing exactly how mad Tom was that the Frontiersmen funded another one of Frankie’s stays in an expensive treatment centre. The fact that Tom could be mad at Frankie for this used to baffle him, but by this time - the third time – he could at least see where Tom was coming from. It didn’t sway his growing dislike of their leader though.
“You keep clean, and he won’t have a reason to be pissed.”
“Fuck… Santi… I try, and – “
“Just shut the fuck up and keep clean, Frank.” Pope snapped, cutting Frankie off in turn. “Besides, I have something in mind to keep you motivated.”
All Frankie could do was nod, despite not knowing what Pope could offer as motivation. He never wanted to relapse, but the call was too sweet, too enticing, for him to stay away too long. He’d said this the day before while he was going through the exit procedure and the facilitator just shrugged and said, “Find something else to get high on then.”
*****
Less than two months after Frankie came back to the compound, Tom was dead.
Pope had walked down the hallway to the office where Will waited, and he pushed open the door. Will had looked up, expecting to see Tom, and when he saw Pope instead, blood on his hands and splattered on his body and face, and wide eyed, he stood up, confusion etched on his face.
“Santiago… what the fuck is goin’-“
“He’s dead.”
Will dropped the file folder he held precariously and moved quickly to Pope’s side as he sat heavily in one of the armchairs. He wiped his hand over his face, smudging the semi-dried blood, and he sighed.
“Who’s dea- “
“Tom… Tom’s dead. He’s fuckin’ dead, Will.”
“Santi.”, Will said in a low, controlled voice that just barely masked the panic writhing below. “What happened?”
“I… I was… I didn’t…”, Pope paused, trying to find a way to confess. Instead, his conscience was silenced by his ego, and he found himself lying without even really thinking. “He was… taken out by… by the Gutierrez gang… those fuckers… they ambushed him, Will.”
Pope looked up at Will, daring to see if what he said even sounded feasible. To Will, Pope’s wide, frightened eyes convinced him to ignore the itch at the back of his brain, needling him to probe further.
“I was… I was with him when he… I found him before he died. He was fuckin’ babbling some shit… who was supposed to take over…”
Will’s eyes narrowed subtly, but enough for Pope to register. He knew he couldn’t say he was the one Tom wanted; it would be too suspicious. And he couldn’t say Will because that would give him full control - something Pope truly believed would be his own downfall.
“He wanted Fish…”
*****
Frankie was a half a year sober – actually, really, fully, no-word-of-a-lie sober – and had been the head of the Frontiersmen for just shy of four months. He’d spent the last six months trying to find a new vice that wouldn’t render him a liability and bankrupt the organization. He was just barely making an impact as the new leader; no one took him seriously. He was skinny and quiet. Only his inner circle knew how violent and dangerous he could be, but even then, they knew he really had to be provoked to get him to that point.
Pope decided he had to do something. His plan to put Frankie in the captain’s chair was failing miserably, and he knew if he couldn’t land this, he would be sussed out.
“Fish… come on… we’re going out for dinner.”, he said, slapping Frankie’s back.
He looked up at Pope, tired and miserable. “Why?”
“Because you need to eat. You’re skin and bones and no one wants to be led by a corpse.”
Frankie’s expression turned from confused to hurt as his shoulders dropped, feeling the weight of everyone’s expectations gnaw at his sobriety. He carried this somber aura all the way to the restaurant.
*****
The dingy little Italian restaurant had a name – Marcello’s - and it became Frankie’s haven. It was nowhere near as festive or amazing as Benny had indicated. The way he raved about the place, Pope thought he was taking Frankie to a pasta titty bar paradise, and instead he found them in a mid-century dive with carpet and wood paneling on the walls.
It wasn’t until the hostess came out from the bar to greet them that Pope understood exactly why Benny loved this place, and he understood it even more when they had their food served. It had started out as once a week, then turned into almost every night. The effects of pasta, heavy cream sauces, and garlic bread we’re beginning to show on Frankie. Gone were the feeling of his ribs when Pope patted him on his back and gone were his sunken cheeks. Frankie had filled out and he was glad to see his friend looking better.
That was, until he noticed something. Yeah, Frankie was clean from coke, but he seemed to have turned that same veracity that he’d once carried for the narcotic on to food. It used to be that Frankie could barely finish a frozen TV dinner, being able to stretch one over two meals. As Pope sat across from him at Marcello’s one Tuesday evening, he watched his friend plow through two whole plates of pasta in one sitting. Pope noticed that while Frankie ate, he seemed almost tranquil, serene.
He’d found something else to get high on.
There was a notable change in Frankie as he gained weight. The soft spoken, always amenable Frankie was slowly being enveloped by a bigger, meaner, and more vicious version of him.
When he was thinner, Frankie could get lucky with women if he tried, but he wasn’t the most confident and rarely put himself out there. But as he grew, so did his self-esteem. He no longer sat back and accepted things as they were said to him – he questioned and even demanded answers, using his newfound size to intimidate if need be. If he saw something he liked, be it clothing, electronics, cars, he took it and gave no one a chance to say otherwise.
The legacy Tom left behind began to fade within the Frontiersmen as Frankie’s violence took centre stage. His quick temper and fists built a reputation; he was still quiet, but the silence he offered was no longer one of contemplation, it was one of simmering rage, liable to explode into violence at any moment. But this was within their group alone. No one outside of their crew took him seriously enough to even warrant giving him a foot in the door.
All of that changed one evening and Pope got a front seat to watch his plan to hide behind Frankie finally bear fruit. Catfish’s temper finally exploded on the right person to get the message out.
Chuck, the leader of another group called the Golden Kings, had sat across from Frankie at a roundtable, hosted by one of the other gangs to broker agreements and territories. Chuck had taken every opportunity to remind everyone that Frankie was a junkie who used to pilfer his group’s own product to get high. When he stopped getting the reaction he wanted, Chuck moved onto Frankie’s weight, which had pretty well doubled since Tom’s death.
Will, seated on the other side of Frankie, quietly said, “Let it go, Catfish.”
“Catfish?”, Chuck laughed cruelly. “Fuckin’ Catfish? Really? Fatfish is more like it. What happened, Morales? You eat your feelings ‘cause you can’t get high no more?”
Pope caught a glance at Frankie’s face which only could be described as dark and malevolent as a thunderclap. It unnerved him to see Frankie looking so dangerous around other people. It was one thing for him to beat one of their own for being a dipshit, but this was someone who wasn't below Frankie – he was ranks above him. Frankie sat, glaring across the table at Chuck, his elbows on the armrests and his hands tensely tenting his fingers.
It seemed that the rest of the men at the table could sense the electric tension between Frankie and Chuck. Dan Connor, leader of the Dead Rabbits and host for the evening, motioned to Frankie with a head nod.
“Get it out, Morales. Can’t move on with you having a bitchfit at some name callin’.”
Pope knew none of these men took his friend seriously and it was either going to be Frankie using his keen negotiation tactics or Frankie showing off his newfound rage.
The latter won. Frankie sat in silence as Chuck beat his mouth off at him, trying to get Frankie to react, to no avail. He didn’t speak; he just watched, letting Chuck keep talking, letting him fuel his violent rage even more, until it reached a tipping point.
“You may be a big fish now, you fuckin’ goof, but you’re still a rat-faced junkie.”
It happened quickly. Frankie stood up and grabbed Chuck from across the table by his suit jacket lapel and pulled him to his side as his fist began beating into the man’s face over and over.
Chuck’s men stood up, but Dan Connor’s hand came out, motioning for them to sit. His own men waited for their cue to remove Frankie from Chuck, but Dan just watched in reverence.
The punching stopped and Chuck gurgled in pain, and Frankie wrapped his huge hands around Chuck’s throat and squeezed.
“I am Big Fish, you fuckin’ cunt.”, he growled in a calm and low tone, then he spat on Chuck’s face.
Will looked at Frankie horrified, and Pope couldn’t help the grin that forced its way to his face. Dan finally motioned for his men to intervene, and it took all four to pry Frankie’s hands off the bloody, gasping mess that was Chuck.
Chuck’s men moved to get their boss away from Frankie as he sat back in his chair, and nodded at Dan, signaling for him to continue. The room remained silent, save for the pathetic whining of Chuck in the hallway. Dan looked at Frankie, eyes narrowed, then finally he started laughing – hard.
“Fuckin’ BigFish Morales! Welcome to the table, asshole.”
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I read that you don’t do stories with kids. But I was just wondering if you do one if they were just turned into a child. Like Toshi Toshi no Mi has the power to alter the ages of people. Example “Like if WB or Marco was turned into a child but they were still adults on the inside and how the crew would react.” It’s fine if it’s a no I just wanted to ask. Thank you.
Oooh these are fun. I can have a good time with these : D
Marco
He’d been around longer than most of the crew so seeing a tiny little pineapple with fluffy hair and wide-open eyes caused many different reactions.
Ace can’t stop laughing at how silly he looks and how high-pitched his yoi’s come out. His clothes are so big and baggy on him like he’d stolen from a much bigger person.
Thatch can’t stop laughing either and just calls him little guy and baby bird alot which causes Marco to huff and stomp around the deck irritated.
Pop’s thinks it’s cute, he remembers when Marco was a young boy. Izou met Marco when they were both young so it doesn’t really phase him.
Everyone is either shocked or highly amused at him.
However, Marco is still the ships doctor and must carry on his duties until the effects wear off.
It’s surreal seeing Marco needing a pile of cushions to sit at his desk. It’s an incredibly bizarre scenario to have to talk to someone who looks like a child about medical issues.
Marco doesn’t like being in this form and his normally cool and calm attitude is challenged with some of the crews reactions.
The nurses adore him though.
Kid
Well, his arms back at least? Everyone just stares at this small spikey-haired kid whos screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs, already pissed off that everyone is gawking at him.
“What are you fuckin’ idiots lookin’ at?” He snaps, stamping his feet on the deck, hands on his hips as he narrows his eyes. It looks so silly seeing his enraged brat in an oversized coat as he starts to throw punches at the legs of his crew.
Killer feels his small fists against his leg, sighs, and just picks him up. Letting Kid get a piggyback ride because he likes to be up high.
Kid is furious about the change and even uses his skills with metalwork to make himself big shoes to walk in, hating feeling so emasculated.
He’s still loud as all hell and his crew is smart enough to hide laughter and amusement behind their hands.
“If any of you tell that shitty doctor or straw hat about this, it’ll be the last thing you do,” though it was hard to take a threat from a 6-year-old very seriously.
Zoro
He couldn’t give a fuck if he was turned into a kid, he knew it would wear off in time so he just shrugged his shoulders.
Until Sanji said something, going for the kill [and by kill I mean he smacks at Sanji’s ankles or bites his legs]
Everyone either sighed, laughing, or just stood in pure bewilderment at Sanji screaming and shaking his leg as hard as he could while a small Zoro held onto his leg by his teeth for dear life.
Nami is the second biggest problem to Zoro’s current predicament though. Every time he tries to drink booze she slaps it off the table or out of his hand [typical orange cat behavior] and starts to wave her finger in his face telling him he’s too young to drink.
Luffy tries to play with Zoro like he’s actually a kid, swinging him around and yelling happily.
Buggy
Ever seen a grown man have a total breakdown? I mean, if you know Buggy that’s probably daily.
He’s small and he’s flapping his arms and screaming but everyone is just crouched down and looking at their beloved captain in complete awe. He’s so adorable, everyone who tries to pick him up either gets a foot or a fist square in their face as he hisses and curses.
Galdino and Alvida sigh, they look like single moms who just got back from the school run as they drag Buggy away from everyone. They already felt like a babysitter and they didn't need it to be literally.
All his crew are completely besotted with how adorable their captain looks as a kid. Buggy half loves the attention and half wishes everyone would take a long walk off a short plank.
It’s not like people take him super seriously anyway but he didn’t need to have people trying to pinch his cheeks.
If Shanks finds out about this Buggy will never hear the end of it. Maybe Alvida snuck a few photos for some blackmail at a later date when Buggy was being his unreasonable self.
#marco the phoenix#marco one piece#marco op#marco#fushichou marco#one piece reader insert#whiteheard pirates#one piece#op#one piece headcanons#sfw#sanji#roronoa zoro#zoro#zoro one piece#zoro op#killer op#killer one piece#buggy op#buggy one piece#eustasscaptainkid#eustass kid#kid op#kid one piece#buggy the clown
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Drowning In The Depths
Sorry it took me so long yall, I have been sick af and with school starting back it is kicking my ass. Gotta love them STEM degrees, know what I mean?
Part 12
Pairing: Captain Price x Male!Reader
WC: 18.3k
Synopsis: Who said Price gotta be the Captain all the time? I am so sorry in advance
Warnings: NSFW 18+ smut, blood, canon typical violence
Darkness swallowed the team as everyone jostled against one another in the back. Well, almost everyone. Price and Gaz had both taken up positions in buildings on the North and South sides of the building in their individual sniper’s nest. Fuckin snipers. You had to stop yourself from snickering at the thought of the two of them laying on the floor the past day as if they were statues. It couldn’t be comfortable, that was for sure.
You stopped yourself though, sniffing as you reached up to wipe at your nose and look around the dark compartment of the van. Konig was sitting next to you on the bench the team had apparently earned after your last successful mission. It certainly made the ride more comfortable as Watcher navigated through the darkened and ghostly quiet streets outside. The terrible thunderstorms overhead were the cause of it this time, and just as the thought crossed your mind a strike of lightning flashed just over Konig’s head where you could just barely see the windshield of the van. His dark hood was hanging loose as he leaned forward between the front two seats to whisper quietly with the young man who was driving, deep in conversation as he took another turn.
Meanwhile Soap and Ghost sat on the bench across from y’all. The bigger man had his knife out as he meticulously, or rather obsessively, honed the edge to a razor-like finish. His black gloved finger ran over the spine of the knife, catching on the serrations that were closer to the hilt before his gaze shot up to find you. The man truly had a sixth sense and it was beyond freaky now. Hazel eyes narrowed into slits as he caught you staring, a smattering of thoughts were undoubtedly going on behind that sharp gaze, before Soap captured his attention completely by tapping his knee against Ghost’s and whispering something into the other man’s ear. The Ghost-whisperer it would seem for he had tamed the wild beast in front of you with merely a touch and a couple words.
The big one certainly had his death stare mastered though, good lord. Your head shook subtly as you suppressed a shiver before you shifted back along the bench and leaned forward with your rifle laying across your thighs while Cerberus laid underneath the bench right beneath you. His nose knocked against your calf as he lifted his head to find your gaze, a slight tilt to it as he expected some command to come from you. There was nothing to tell him right now, not yet anyway. When no order came though the Dutch Shepherd’s tongue lolled for a moment until you reached down to run your fingers over his brindle fur. You could feel the weight of his head as it pressed into your palm for a quick moment. His head fell back to his paws a moment later and you leaned back into the wall of the van as you took a deep breath.
This drive was becoming anxiety inducing as another wheel dipped into a pothole and the thunder rumbled overhead. It felt almost like something was coming to a head, like the crescendo of a song was nearing and you could feel the melody of it in your very soul. The vibrations of an orchestra in the strings of energy that surrounded you and had you sitting on the edge of your seat even as you actively tried to calm yourself down, breathing as deep as you could.
Why was this making you so nervous anyway? You’d gone after plenty of the worst this world had to offer. Amaan was so far from tipping the scales of lecherous actions you’d been witness to that it wasn’t even funny. Hell you’d been right next to the fucking Admiral on that bastard’s worst days. Even on his good days Amaan was far from the worst in comparison to that demon. Al-Mustafa could have been a fucking angel when he was standing next to him, and yet here you were having to actively stop your knee from bouncing while also forcing yourself to put on the persona that was Speck. Not yourself, but the man you were expected to be in this situation. The operator. Master Chief. Your role.
Suddenly the answer to your question hit you like a slap in the face. Back then, when you had been faced with the Admiral, his heinous crimes, and your own very obvious mortality, you’d had nothing to lose. Everything you’d worked for had been stripped from you and your decisions and past had left you devoid of anything to care for. Your family, your job, your home, every cent to your fucking name had been thrust into the incinerator and you’d lost it at the drop of a hat.
Everything had changed now, you had someone, something, to stay alive for and to come back to. It was going to cloud your judgment. You knew that all too well. Hell it already had been affecting your judgment over the past days that you had been digging yourself deeper and deeper into the trench that was Captain John Price. It would only get worse from here on out and you found that the little voice that always told you not to get attached was surprisingly silent.
John Price was an addiction that even your subconscious would forever be unable to shake. You were bound and determined that the only thing that could tear you from him at this point was death itself and you’d put up a fight with any god or ferryman who came after you. Death had, had his chance to take you once before and he’d fucked it up. That fucker wasn’t getting you any time soon if you had anything to say about it. Besides who wouldn’t fight for those beautiful blue eyes and that endearing smirk when he knew he had you right where-
Stop thinking about him, Speck. There was a fucking job to do. Slowly you found your eyes turning to your left where the seat on the bench next to you sat empty. Where he would have been if it wasn’t for the fact he was already in position. A part of you was already missing him and it hadn’t even been that long. You craved the way his calloused fingers slid along your arm, the way his lips felt pressed against yours. The way his striking blue eyes pierced your very soul as he looked down at you with sweat dripping off the tip of his nose. Those quiet words of praise falling from between his lips, amongst other, dirtier words that had your cheeks warming in an instant even now as you sat in the back seat of the van.
A hard shove against your shoulder nearly pushed you sideways on the bench as you blinked a few times and your eyes focused on the other men around you. “You’re listening, ja?” You could almost see the raised eyebrows beneath the hood, the way his forehead creased sometimes when he only had his facemask on. Price’s forehead had lines like that, though his were a bit deeper and a bit more mature in appearance whenever his brows furrowed. Oh and the way the corners of his eyes creased whenever he smiled and made his typically serious face a bit more hospitable when he looked at you.
Fuck, Speck, would you pay attention? “Yes sir, I’m listenin’,'' your accent slipped out as you tried to pull yourself out of your foggy thoughts. You caught the attention of the other two men sitting in the back of the van as well as the southern twang lilted into your words. A moment of distraction and a shard of your past revealed, though they may have been jokesters and enjoyed a good laugh that in no way meant that they were stupid. They paid attention and they noticed the smallest of details, it was in fact what made all of you so great in the field.
Not a word was spoken though…Thankfully. Your past, your heritage, wasn’t exactly something you liked to advertise, it could ruin the idea of who you were. What you were. The idea that you were a chameleon would disappear in a cloud of smoke if they really started to hear that twang that was hidden so well in your voice. Or so you always told yourself anyway.
Ghost grunted out a quick, “We’re a minute out,” as he stood up from his and Soap’s bench. Shit you’d lost track of the time. You quickly followed suit as you stood up and pulled a magazine out of the tac vest before sliding it into the magazine well. It took only a quick pull of the charging handle to chamber a bullet from the magazine and you glanced quickly towards where Ghost was already unlatching the panel that had closed you all into the back. “Thirty seconds,” his voice rasped out into your ear as the van slowed to a stop and Watcher shut the panel between the front seats.
You clipped Cerberus’ lead on before you did a quick check of his gear, tightening the straps on his harness that wrapped underneath his belly. A moment later you joined the other three men at the two back doors. When the lock clicked on the outside the door opened a second later and Ghost jumped down beside the small ginger. The rest of y’all followed close behind the big man with Watcher bringing up the rear. The door shut behind you, though you couldn’t hear it over the pounding of the rain as the storm was raging around you now. You moved behind Konig with Soap on your left beside you.
The four of you lined up on either side of the door with Cerberus between your legs as you kneeled at Konig’s back and watched your side of the dark alley. The dog’s eyes were locked on you, you could feel their gaze as he awaited whatever command you were going to give him or even something as simple as if you were going to move. Watcher moved by you before he stopped to stand in front of a keypad and he plugged something into it. You could just barely hear him as he whispered something to himself and his mic picked it up, along with the sound of him typing numbers into the door’s lock.
It took a few moments before anyone finally started to move and when they did you weren’t surprised by the perpetrator in the slightest. A snort came from somewhere behind you though you heard it clearly in your ear just before a Scottish voice muttered under his breath, “Yer no singing right now are ye? Ye do know we’re in a bit a fuckin’ hurry, right?”
Just as fast as the questions slipped out of Soap’s mouth the quiet muttering stopped as well as the sounds of the young man pressing the buttons, both of them seeming to be distracrted by the other in this tense moment. Rain muted the sounds of shifting from behind you as you forced yourself to stay focused on the alley in front of you and not fall victim to the teasing these two were leveling at one another. “Aye, I am ye bastart. Ye can’t do any better, trust me we hear yer howlin’ every time we try to take a fuckin’ shower,” your brows lifted at the quiet words that came out of the smaller Scotsman. It wasn’t so much the words that had surprised you but the one who had said them.
Up until this point Watcher had been nothing but a sweet, innocent- as innocent as anyone on this team could be anyway -young man who might have seemed a bit too young but it wasn’t like he had ever seemed incapable, quite the opposite in fact. Watcher had been quiet maybe whenever everyone else was around, but never did he seem like the type to mouth off in the way he was now. Especially not to someone who was technically his superior even if Soap didn’t act like it sometimes. There were intricacies to the relationships in this team that you still hadn’t quite grasped it seemed.
“Well get on with it then Freckles, we don’t have all bloody night. It’s pishin’ it doon oot here,” you could hear the smile in his voice just before Ghost let out an exasperated sigh behind you directed at what you assumed to be both of the Scotsmen who were very nearly about to go at it in this fuckin alley if the annoyed huff from Watcher was anything to go by.
It didn’t seem either of them cared too much about the fact that rain was currently pouring down on y’all in fuckin buckets. It had soaked through your clothes nearly the moment you’d stepped out of the van and your equipment had been right behind it seconds later. There was no doubt in your mind if they kept it up, even your waterproof boots were going to give way to the torrential downpour overhead and you hated the feel of wet socks. That wasn’t even mentioning how bad Cerberus was gonna be stinking after this operation.
Just before the tension broke and shit hit the fan though a deep voice came over your ear piece. Deep, smooth, calm, and authoritative, “ETA on your entry, Bravo 0-7.” It was a question yes, including the little lilt up of his voice at the end, but it sounded more like an order coming from that man. Most things in your experience did, you weren’t about to complain about it though.
Without thinking about it the corners of your mouth turned up in a small smile. A rush that wasn’t adrenaline for once, but instead was happiness. A feeling you were beginning to grow a bit more accustomed to after so long without it. You stayed quiet though as Watcher answered the silent question in a hushed tone, “Fifteen seconds.” Ghost quickly relayed the answer before everyone went silent once more. There was a hollow grunt from Ghost who seemed like he was about to say something more but he instead elected to leave it alone once Watcher continued on with whatever it was he was doing. Best not to distract the young man anymore than he obviously already was.
Before Price could speak again the more feminine voice of Laswell came through the ear pieces, obviously broadcasted to the whole team, “Be advised there are two unknowns nearing your location. I estimate thirty seconds before they are on you. You need to get inside the building. Do not alert any guards. I repeat, do not alert any guards. We don’t know what is inside that building.” Your hands tightened instinctively on the weapon as you shifted and your knee dug further into the grime of the alleyway as rain water flowed down the paved road by you.
Watcher behind you was still doing whatever it was he was good at in an attempt to get y’all inside before shit hit the fan. No one said a word for fear it would tip the scales out of your favor too soon and y’all waited quietly on bated breath to get the clear from the ginger to breach. Again an American voice broke the silence as Laswell updated the team, “Fifteen seconds. Your side of the alley Speck.” Your hand shot down to the dog still lying between your legs as you quickly assured yourself that he was still lying on his belly there, as if he could move with the lead still clipped on him.
Both you and Cerberus were tense with anticipation, the only thought in your mind being ‘Don’t let this op go sideways already. It’s too fuckin soon.’ Just as the words played through your mind though water splashed up beside you as Watcher backed up to stop beside you and shove the items in his hand into a small pack at his hip and readied his weapon. Your focus however stayed on the end of the all even as the door opened behind you.
Footsteps, muted by the torrent, sounded off behind you as the other cleared into the building in quick succession. Laswell’s voice was counting down quietly in your ear as the men filed in behind you as quickly as they could. There was a light tap on your shoulder and your eyes darted up to find Watcher just as the young man hurried away from you and inside. You stood and shuffled backwards with Cerberus who backpedaled along with you until you turned into the doorway and Konig shut the door behind you.
Silence buzzed in your ears until the soft sounds of droplets of water hitting the floor found your ears. Your ears adjusted quickly to the lack of the noise as you looked around the dark entryway that you found yourself in. It was like the building was light and soundproof despite you knowing better. Or at least you knew what the building specs had revealed, who knew what was really going on in this fucking building though. No plan, no matter how amazing, survived a battle.
The illusion of the building being sound and lightproof dissipated in a moment though as the sound of rain hitting the roof sounded somewhere above you. While outside the darkness of the storm was interrupted by flashes of lightning that managed to illuminate the hallway though it was only for a few moments. It was just long enough though for you to see Soap at the end of the hallway and his gun pointed into the darkness with Watcher covering the other corner. Both men were holding their respective angles on anyone who might come down the hallway.
A second later there was a strike of thunder that seemed to rattle the walls around you and also aided to ruin the illusion of sound deprivation, feeling more like an earthquake instead of a storm that was miles overhead. There was still no sound from the team though, even as Konig dropped his night vision into place much like the rest of the team had already done, you were just now noticing. A moment later Ghost finally broke the dead silence as his voice sounded over all the comms, “We’re inside. IR beacons on now Captain,” you reached up a hand to drop your own night vision into place. You reached to the back of your helmet then to turn the IR beacon as well and then Cerberus’ on the back of his vest as Ghost spoke.
It took a second before you heard Price answer in that calm, soothing tone that was all business and formality in the middle of this mission. And despite yourself it had the hair on your arms standing up in response, “Good copy Lieutenant, eyes on.” The big man didn’t bother to answer him and instead he moved up behind Soap as he took a second to survey both sides of the dark hallway.
The masked face turned back to find you as his hand came up and he directed you to follow up behind Konig and Watcher. The moment you gave him a nod he tapped Soap on the shoulder and the two men slipped silently around the corner. Stealth was your friend, at least for now, and was the only thing keeping the local law enforcement off of y’all and the rest of the building quiet as you moved through the building. Just one quick hand motion and Cerberus was out from between your legs as he came to rest at your right hip instead. Stepping up behind Konig you gave him a light tap on the shoulder and watched him mirror the same action on the young man’s before the three of you slipped around the corner and off down the hallway.
Watcher stopped at the first room as he opened the door quietly and his lean form moved with graceful, quiet speed you hadn’t seen from many. As you continued moving you found yourself appraising the skill with which he cleared the room, despite the fact that you knew it wasn’t actually your job to do so. To be so young it seemed he was well enough trained, maybe not as quick or experienced as the rest of the team but you had your suspicions that most of his skills lied elsewhere. Not necessarily just another jarhead with half a brain to throw into the fray when you needed bodies.
Quickly though you and Konig moved past the room as you watched the hallway behind and Konig the hallway and stairs up ahead. It took only a few seconds before the sharp features of his pale face reappeared in the doorway and you turned to tap Konig as the three of you continued on down the hall. Approaching the second door that branched off the hallway you heard a low rumble come from your right and you hurriedly reached forward to tap the taller man in front of you on the shoulder. He paused for just a moment before he too heard the low rumble just behind him and he gave a stiff nod.
A quick hand gesture and the rumble stopped as Konig lined up on the side of the door before checking to make sure it was unlocked. When he looked back you were quick to give him a single nod as he returned his attention to the door and pushed inside. You didn’t catch what happened in the first moment. All you could see was Konig’s large body that seemed to swallow the nearest hostile as he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and drug him to the side against the wall, as out of the way as the Austrian could get. You stepped inside in the next moment as you listened to the muffled sounds that came from the man that Konig was fighting to put to sleep.
The wide eyed face of a young man, you’d wager to guess even younger than Watcher, came around the corner in a flash. You barely had enough time to register the fear that had grown there. All you could see was the thought that he was in too deep, that his time had come even as he reacted in his own defense nearly as quickly as you. The silhouette of a handgun began to rise in what felt like slow motion in front of you. Instinct carried you forward as your right hand shot forward as quick as the strike of lightning that flashed outside and blinded you for just a moment. You didn’t need to be able to see though now that you had your hands on him.
Just as quickly as your sight was taken it returned in the midst of your next strike. His trachea slammed into your thenar web and you could feel the way it began to give way beneath the force of the blow. Dark eyes bugged at the sudden contact and immediately the gun in his hand dropped, a metallic clack echoing around the walls as it hit the ground, and he reached for his throat while he struggled to catch his breath.
In the next moment his throat was trapped between your forearm and bicep while his hands clawed fruitlessly at your arms. Nails dug into the fabric of the long sleeved, black shirt that clung to your torso and arms like a second skin. When that didn’t seem to work a primal instinct began to take over that few could have suppressed, and part of you would have gone so far as to say not a soul alive could have fought that urge down.
It was a desire to survive, to continue dwelling in this cruel world that every creature walking this planet had. His sharp elbows drove back into your ribs and you couldn’t help the quiet grunt that he drove from your lungs. The young man’s mouth opened wide in a scream that he couldn’t quite get out but damn did he try. You could even feel the muscles of his neck as they flexed beneath your forearm. A quiet hum passed through your lips as the wild and struggling actions slowly began to ebb into the hazy last ditch efforts to get away. Futile attempts but the human brain responded the only way it knew how, remove the threat and get away from it. Even if the brain knew it could never hope to accomplish that task.
As the fingers around your forearm loosened your gaze darted towards Konig across the room who was lowering the other man to the ground before he turned to find you. Cerberus was still standing idly beside you while his chocolatey eyes stared up at you with reverence as if you didn’t have a man currently struggling in your arms. When the other’s arms finally started to fall back to his sides you took a step back to lower him to the ground before he slumped to the floor and you stepped over his body to join Konig where he’d moved back towards the door. A single tap on the tall man’s shoulder and he stepped outside with Watcher as y’all continued on down the hallway.
Like a well-oiled machine you cleared every small room on the first floor and rotated with one another all the way to the stairs. As you cleared the final room on your side of the hallway, Ghost's voice rumbled through the ear piece, “Clearing the second floor now. Team three clear the third floor.”
You exited the room with a tap on Konig’s shoulder as the man answered back, “On the way up now.” He released the button on his mic before he whispered just loud enough to hear, “On you, Watcher.” The young man didn’t hesitate even for a moment before he mounted the first step on his way up. His head tilted up as he watched the top of the landing, taking the steps carefully as he went, doing everything in his power not to make a noise. Not a single shot fired so far and the guards weren’t alerted, hell this was going far better than any of y’all had dared to anticipate.
“Be advised, one just left his room on the second floor…” the man paused before continuing with an edge of nervous anticipation in his tone, “No clear shot on my end. He's approaching the stairwell on the north side of the building,” the Brit’s voice reached your ears though it wasn’t that of the man from before. This one was a couple octaves higher and missing the rough tone you loved so much. Watcher stilled on the stairs in response, just barely in front of Konig about halfway up the first flight of stairs. You couldn’t help but cast a nervous glance back the way you had come like you’d just assured y’alls mutual destruction by just daring to think positively for once.
A low rumble began in the dog’s chest that you silenced immediately with a quiet gesture of your hand. Konig took one more cautious step forward to come shoulder to shoulder with the comically shorter man just before a face came into view at the top of the stairs. Your stomach dropped as the middle-aged man froze with his fingers tangled through a long, dark beard. It took a moment for him to process what he was seeing, to register that y’all were the enemy and his life was in danger. The man tried to scream, he really did. At least he made the most honest attempt he could. His mouth opened and he tried to take a step back and turn. He put every muscle into action in order to take off back down the hall, probably to find someone, but his fate was never to walk down that hall again.
He didn’t even get the chance to turn his head all the way back around before a flash came from the end of Watcher’s barrel and then Konig’s. Blood sprayed the wall behind him as the light faded from his eyes and his body began to go limp. It would take a second for his body to realize that the brain had ceased to respond. No loud bangs echoed off the walls though, suppressors kept the sounds quiet especially with the cracks of thunder still sounding off overhead.
Your shoulders tensed as you watched his body tilt forward towards the two men and he began to fall down the stairs. Without even really thinking about it the two men in front of you stepped forward simultaneously. The weight of the now deceased man hit their shoulders as they let his body lay softly against the stairs before they continued up and you followed right behind them. Avoiding the blood pooling onto the steps and the body that laid there now.
Watcher lifted his gun to inspect the dark hallway for only a second before his eyes returned in front of him and the two men in front of you continued on with that same slow and careful step that you all had been using since you left the van. Again the two men started up the stairs together as you brought up the rear of the group, Cerberus still steady at your side, a rock in this tide of uncertainty. As the three of you crested the top of the stairs two shots fired off back the way you had come. Fuck.
Voices rose in a flurry from the floor below as Ghost’s deep voice growled into your ear, “We’re compromised.” Yeah, no shit.
“Time to clean house lads,” Soap’s voice cut him off, sounding strained as more shots fired off from somewhere below.
More voices began to rise like a chorus from behind the closed doors of the third floor before lights flipped on overhead and blinded each of you with the nightvision. You scrambled desperately to pull the goggles up even as startled shouts hit your ears and you tried to adjust your eyes with a couple quick blinks. Bullets flew past you, slamming into the walls behind you before you heard the quieter pops of either Watcher or Konig’s rifles firing. When you could finally focus your eyes a man was lying dead a few feet in front of you and further down the hall one was coming out of another room.
Watcher was just getting his night vision goggles up while Konig was turning back to check on the both of you. His eyes landed on the ginger first before turning his green gaze to you. Cerberus’ jaws opened in a thunderous bark as a crack of thunder sounded just outside, though you had to admit the dog was easily loud enough to compete with it. All thought stopped though as you watched the door in front of you fly open. You were almost certain you could feel every muscle go rigid in response, a moment of hesitation that would undoubtedly be your undoing.
A figure peeled around the corner that Konig had missed in his worry. You tried to lift your gun but there wasn’t enough time. You could see from here, in this slowed down, distorted version of time, that he was going to beat you to pulling the trigger. That was before glass shattered somewhere ahead of you and the man fell with a hole in the side of his head. Your gaze darted around to find the source of the shot, but Konig was helping Watcher to his feet so it wasn’t one of you. Then John’s voice rumbled in your ear in a tone that was nearly a growl, “He’s down. Get al-Mustafa. That’s an order.”
Your eyes darted to where Konig was already moving forward with Watcher hurrying after him. There was no time to waste now that your cover had been blown. Konig shoved his way into the first door on his right and disappeared inside as you moved to catch up with the other two. You reached a hand down to check on Cerberus as the big dog moved at your side and you continued on past the door to follow Watcher. By the time the shorter man was pushing in to clear the next room Konig was coming up behind you to give you a light tap on the shoulder and you crossed the hall to the next door.
A hard shove inside with your shoulder and it started to give way only to come to a jarring halt as it slammed into something solid which was currently refusing to budge on the other side. Your brows furrowed then before someone shoved at the other side and the door slammed hard into your chest. A quiet curse fell out of your mouth as you took a step back and glanced Konig’s way as he pushed into the room next to yours easily enough while Watcher continued on down the hall past you and towards the last door already. Do not ruin the rhythm, Speck. Don’t be that fucker, get your shit together.
Get it together, get it together, finish this so you can get everything back to normal. Unclipping Cerberus’ lead you took a breath before you stepped forward and your boot collided with a door. The force cracked the wood which might as well have been paper thin at this point as it flew inward. Curses sounded from inside the room as you forced it the rest of the way open with a hard slam of your shoulder. When it finally gave in to the force you felt your teeth jar just before you caught sight of furrowed brows and the barrel of a gun rising your way.
Time was short but the distance between the two of you was shorter. Your gun slipped from your grasp as you shot forward and grabbed his wrist with one hand. You slammed it against the wall with enough force to make the wall shudder beneath it as you slipped further into his guard. The gun smacked against the wall uselessly as you did, your arms straining to maintain control with one hand around one wrist and the fingers of your other hand wrapped tight around the other.
The man growled out more than a few curses in Pashto as he tried to force you back through the door. Even as you held his arms wide and the gun away from your chest he still seemed only to be worried about keeping you out and away. It was like he was trying to get rid of you even as the sounds of gasps echoed from further within all in the span of a few seconds. All of the noises from within quickly turned into cries and sobs as you let your grip slip ever so slightly to wrap your hand around the barrel of the gun and force it from the man’s hand. It only took another half second to flip it around in your palm and shove it into the center of his chest.
When you pulled the trigger the sound would have nearly deafened you if not for the headphones over your ears. The bang bounced off the walls around you as the man fell to the ground and you turned without thought to find the source of the noises from before. The man’s dead body was irrelevant now and you had no more attention you needed to pay it. Your eyes darted down towards the woman and the little girl she now held wrapped in her arms and as hidden from your sight as she possibly could be. Her face locked you into place as you immediately remembered the way she had looked so confused and pleading at you the last time you had seen her. Your jaw tensed and Cerberus whined at your side, sensing the way your mood immediately changed from business to uncertainty.
She had been at the other compound, you’d sent her directly back into the fray with the foolish hope that her mother would get her out of here, out of this life. Really it had been more like the hope that she could get out there. However even as you watched her you realized there was no recognition behind those eyes. This was the same little girl you had gone out of your way to speak to and she didn't even remember your face, and for some odd reason it made you muscles tighten in response. You were so used to people not remembering you, hell it was why you could do what you did, but you’d spoken to this girl. Killed another man right in front of her. Yet there she was not even realizing the deja vu you should have been causing her at this exact moment.
God you were getting sensitive lately, it was truly becoming pathetic as nearly everything was altering the course of your thoughts. You couldn’t think about that right now Speck, you’d come here for a reason and you had so much more to deal with than a child you didn’t even know. The reason you were here was somewhere else in this building, it wasn’t this little girl and her mother. Amaan was the cause of this girl’s suffering and you had a chance to stop that tonight. He was the reason that all of you were even here. The reason that you all had to be in this place with a dead man behind you and a woman and child who were begging quietly for their lives in front of you. Yet you hadn’t even gotten confirmation of an ID on him to prove he was even in this building.
Glancing towards the door you took half a step forward and leveled the barrel of the gun at the woman. Even as you did it though you felt the finger you had resting against the trigger freeze. You couldn’t kill unarmed combatants, and especially not a child. Not here and not now. Son of a bitch, you bit the inside of your cheek and glanced back at the door once before turning back to the two and growled out a quiet threat in Farsi, the only hope you had of keeping them alive and seeing this through to the end, “Do not move, do not leave. Try to leave and you will be shot. Stay here until we are gone and do not make a noise, do you understand?”
The mother’s eyes glanced at the man on the ground behind you before looking into your eyes once more as she pulled her daughter closer and then gave a few quick nods of understanding. You watched as the mother and Jasra disappeared into the small closet in the room and the door closed behind you as you left the room with a clipped, “Fuss.” The second you turned the corner though and started towards where you knew the other two would be clearing the final room another round of shots rang out through the third floor.
“FUCK,” the Scottish voice yelled out as he fell back around the door frame and his hands reached for his side. Too good, things never went this smoothly and you never should have let yourself believe that it would. You closed the distance in a flash though Konig was there a step before you, speaking words in German that you didn’t understand. His hand shot to grab a hold on the young man’s vest as he pulled him further away from the door. You didn’t stop to afford Watcher that same level of concern, not when the person who had done the shooting could have come out of the room at any moment, besides Konig could handle any first aid better than you could.
Slipping inside the final room you slid around the corner gun first as you came face to face with al-Mustafa who was standing securely behind his two wives with his arms wrapped around both of their necks. He had one hand wrapped around the grip of the pistol as he held it to one of their heads. Your eyes searched them carefully, analyzing and planning in the matter of a moment. There was no way you could fire off a shot and hope to kill the other man before he killed one of these two women though. Again time was short and you didn’t exactly have much time to figure out a way to get through this situation.
Especially not when you could hear the two men outside the door and you were already having to fight to turn off the side of your mind that held the worry and fear for the young man outside the door and everything that could possibly go wrong. Doubly so when you heard Konig’s voice in your ear piece, “Watcher has been shot. Soap, get up here now.” You didn’t flinch, you couldn’t, you were in the middle of a stare-off with a true piece of shit and you knew whoever flinched first was going to lose this match.
The ensuing chaos on the mic nearly broke you but it was still secondary as you continued to watch al-Mustafa. “Come on Amaan, there’s no reason for this. Just come with us,” play your role Speck, like maybe you wouldn’t have put a bullet in his head given the first chance. God you wanted to though, you wanted to kill him more than you’d wanted to kill anyone else before in your life. Your words, which had come out in Farsi, seemed to be a cause of confusion for Amaan though that lasted only a moment before he dismissed your presence as a whole in favor of searching for a way out from behind his two body shields.
There was fear that was evident in both of the women’s eyes and even though you couldn’t see it you knew that sweat was beginning to dot their brows as they watched the end of your gun rather than you. They were both expecting to meet their end one way or another tonight. You need to break that bastard’s concentration, your eyes darted down to the dog at your side who was a steady rock at your side. “Gib laut,” you mumbled to which Cerberus responded with a series of thundering barks directed at the man still searching for a way to get out.
The tension was instantly palpable in the room, the barks served to keep the other man on edge, no respite for the adrenaline fueled panic you knew was currently flowing through his system. Good, the last thing you needed was a terrorist with a fucking plan. “I don’t have a line of sight into the room, Captain, how about you,” Gaz’s voice came through your ear piece and you barely even had the chance to glance at the walls of the room to realize that there were no windows except for the one on the south side of the building.
Of course there weren’t, nothing could ever be that easy huh? It took a moment for Price to answer as well though you didn’t need to hear his answer to know what it would be. Still you enjoyed hearing his voice as he growled out in what you were beginning to learn was frustration, “Negative. Konig status report on Watcher.”
The Austrian was doing his best to hide his worry but it was painfully obvious as he answered, “Two gsw’s, one to the abdomen the other to the thigh, his plates caught the rest. Soap, where are you!?” You could hear the man outside without the need of his mic as his voice rose in what was nearing panic. The worst part about it though were the quiet grunts of pain that the young man was doing his best to choke down. However, as much as he was trying it wasn’t working too well as your imagination painted a vivid picture of Watcher leaking blood all over the hallway. With Konig’s huge hands pressing desperately over two flooded wounds as he tried to staunch the bleeding.
For the love of God, drown it out Speck, focus on the problem in front of you before you get yourself killed, idiot. You blinked once as you tried to push the thoughts into the back of your mind and forced al-Mustafa came back into your forethoughts. Your eyes caught sight of the women’s fear again, their gazes darting towards the door on their left and then back to you. Amaan’s eyes were everywhere but, his gaze was instead now drawn to the escape route he had planned out for himself. A flash of lighting struck outside followed by a series of three more strikes that you struggled not to let yourself get blinded by and instead keep your eyes on the man you were actually here for.
In the next moment though the power flickered and then everything went dark. Son of a bitch this shit needed to make up its fucking mind. Again shots rang out just before glass shattered as you hurried to flip down your night vision once more. When you finally managed to see what had happened the scene in front of you made your shoulders tense in response. A small pit settled in your stomach as you stared down at the floor.
One of the women was lying dead on the ground, the place where the bullet had gone through and left a hole in her skull covered by the headwear she wore. The other woman, presumably her sister, was reaching for and cradling her head as she drug the limp corpse into her lap. Sobs racked her body as she did and when the door to their left opened you lifted your gun instinctively at whoever was coming through. When three young girls quickly ran to their mothers in the dark though you felt that pit beginning to widen. Especially as you caught sight of the blood already soaking into the rug on the floor.
Holy shit. You let the barrel of the gun lower slowly before you reached up to the radio attached to your vest and spoke quickly, “One of the wives is dead, Amaan killed her. He’s gone, but I can still get him, Captain.” Silence took over the line as the sound of a second Scottish voice entered the hallway from a distance. Your mind was anywhere but the three men now outside the door though, you had other things to worry about.
You took a quick step up onto the bed and moved over it to the now opened window. Glancing out quickly at the torrential downpour your eyes narrowed as you inspected the narrow ledge of the window and the straight drop down. Time for retrieval was escaping, Price needed to make a decision and he needed to make it now before his opinion became obsolete. “Speck…” There was a hint of warning in his voice as he said your name, making your jaw tense once more as you glanced the other way down the street towards where Price was nestled in a building somewhere. You caught sight of Amaan’s retreating form as he tried to make his escape for the second time from your team. John was out of time to make a decision now.
“Fuck it,” you drawled out the words as you used the stock of the gun to clear out the larger shards of glass still stuck to the frame. In the next moment you were climbing through the window before you pressed the button on your radio and growled out, “I’m going after him.” It wasn’t a request this time, it was a statement. You were going after him. A woman had died and Watcher was injured and you couldn’t let his sacrifice go to waste…Not if the worst happened.
Glancing down quickly you found the awaiting gaze as you commanded, “Bleib,” and watched the dog’s focus narrow onto you and you alone. Both of you were now actively ignoring the crying children and the one woman still left to deal with the three children. They weren’t your problem to deal with anymore though, you had other things to worry about. Like how far this drop was gonna be and how you were gonna catch up to that slippery bastard. It was time to treat this just like any other obstacle course or training drill now. Just get it done, put this bullshit to rest.
As you clung to the ledge of the window your eyes searched for the easiest path to the ground, and you could feel your fingers slipping just slightly as you fought to hang on. The shining gutter on the right caught your gaze as you swung yourself off the ledge of the broken window and towards it. Your hands couldn’t grip it all that well but before you slid down you managed to get your feet around it as you controlled your descent to the street below. It only barely broke what would have been a bone-breaking fall, but it broke it enough that you could ignore the pain in your knees and turn to yell up, “Hier.”
Only a moment passed before Cerberus launched himself through the window and you saw his head tilt down as he looked for you. Reminiscent of the way he had launched off the top of the training wall during the training run with full faith you would be there to catch him. It was all the same to him, work and training were no different. So long as you were there he couldn’t have cared less about the situation that he was in while doing it.
Your arms lifted as you took a couple steps back before the weight of the dog landed on your outstretched forearms and you cushioned his fall. Without another moment of thought you issued a quick, “Fuss,” and then turned down the street and took off at a sprint, not bothering to check on Cerberus. There was no doubt in your mind that he had slipped into his place at your side.
Where had Amaan been when you last saw him? You were struggling to remember now. He’d turned down a side road and disappeared between the buildings, you could recall that much at least. But had he been at the dead end of this street? He had been, right? Yeah of course he had. For sure…Maybe? Fuck.
“I’ve got eyes on Amaan,” the deep voice sounded akin to the rumble of an engine in your ear as he answered a question you hadn’t even dared to utter. “Three streets to your north, Speck. Move fast, I don’t have eyes anymore,” the callout made your head whip to your right just as you began to pass a side street. It only took a quick glance for you to catch sight of the man in question once more.
Oh yeah, you were definitely faster than that fucker. You could catch up to him easily, you just had to put everything clouding your mind out of it. None of that was important right now. All you had to do was get yourself and Cerberus out of this mess alive now. That was it.
You slipped in the wet streets as you took the hard turn and started after him. Ahead he darted out of sight back towards the west and you had to raise a hand to shield your eyes from the rain pouring into your face. Even your eyelashes were beginning to drip as the thunder continued to rumble overhead and another flash of lightning lit up the sky. Had you been standing still you might have even gotten cold with how wet everything around you was, but with your arms and legs pumping you didn’t exactly have the chance. Instead your skin felt like fire beneath the tight, black shirt and comparatively loose, black cargo pants you’d donned for the mission.
The dog beside you was focused ahead and for the first time it seemed you weren’t the only thing on his mind. Cerberus was well aware that the chase was on. You’d both been on enough together that it wasn’t all that surprising he had realized what was happening by now.
The gun in your hands and the gear strapped to your body felt like a weight dragging you down into the streets that were now turning into mud as you neared the poorer parts of the city. The water that had soaked into your shirt and pants was becoming a fifty pound burden as it slowed your typically light and agile form. You could only hope that Cerberus’ thick-furred body wasn’t feeling the same in these conditions. One of you slowed down was enough cause for concern, the both of you being drug down was beyond concerning.
As Amaan’s head whipped around to find you, you watched his form take another turn, he knew he was being followed. Lovely. He was trying to shake his tail and if you lost sight of him for too long he might very well be able to do that. Cerberus couldn’t track in these conditions…Well that was a lie, he could do it. It would just be painstaking and it was doubtful you’d end with your query in hand anyway, and you weren’t about to let Watcher get shot trying to get this fucker and then have to find out that the bitch got away again. And if the worst happened…Fuck why hadn’t you hurried the fuck up in that stupid fuckin room?
A pit opened in your stomach as your mind tried to backtrack. Son of a bitch you couldn’t be thinking about all of that. Drown it out and focus Speck, for the love of God and all that’s right and holy in this world fucking focus. He wasn’t the priority right now, not yours anyway. Konig was more than willing to take care of the kid and Watcher didn’t need your worry or your pity. Right now you needed to think rationally not with whatever the fuck else your mind was trying to force on you.
Even as the thoughts crossed your mind you heard the crack of the mic as words spilled through, “Someone get the fucking van. We’ve got to get the fuck oot of here.” Soap’s tone didn’t hold worry so much as it did urgency. A need to get out of what had turned into quite literally a bloody mess before things got even worse, or so you assumed. You weren’t exactly there to see how things were going since you left.
“On it,” Ghost’s deep voice answered back immediately just as the man you were chasing made another turn and forced your focus back to him completely. This slippery bastard was gonna be the death of your knees with all these fucking turns.
Catch him, stop him, hell kill him if need be. Fuck the info you could get from him at this point, you’d rather know this was over than worry about some intel. Just end his life and finish this bullshit. You turned the corner around a tall fence and were met with an empty dead end street. Your gaze darted back and forth from the collapsing building on one side and the tall, chain link fence on the other side as thunder continued to rumble overhead. “Where the fuck-”
Pacing back and forth in the alley your mind worked quickly towards a viable solution. One hesitant step forward and then a quick turn back and your eyes slid over the fence next to you. Mud had kicked up on it. No, that was way too high to be from anyone just running by. You froze as you looked at it for a moment, watching as gravity played its part and the silty mud dripped slowly down the fence.
This fuckin guy…
In the same moment you saw him through the small holes of the fence as he weaved around a car and disappeared from sight once more. It didn’t take you a second longer to start climbing over after him as you hauled yourself up towards the top. At least until you swung a leg over and then stopped, your eyes surveying the broken down cars and junk piled around the fenced in area. One hand braced against the top as you held yourself in place while the other still held the gun nestled tight against your shoulder as you waited a second.
Stop and take in your surroundings Speck, get your fucking head on right or you’re gonna get yourself killed. There he was. Your brows furrowed and then lowered into a look of frustration as you watched him. The figure's hands were clinging to the opposite fence as he desperately tried to pull himself up.
When he turned to glance back a flash of anger curled your lip up instantly and you couldn’t stop yourself. You lifted the gun and without even a thought your other hand steadied your aim as you fired at the man. Every muscle tensed as you watched him fall backwards off the fence, a yell of pain just barely audible in the rain he reached for his shoulder. You watched for another moment, still holding the gun up though you didn’t really expect him to move again.
But it was raining, it was dark, and you weren’t exactly shooting from a good spot as you straddled the fence. There was just barely a flash of metal that you caught before you instinctively dove head first off the fence and for cover. At least you could take comfort in the fact that the man was on the opposite side of the yard in complete darkness and without your technology to aid him.
Gunshots sounded off from the other side of the fenced in lot as your shoulder slammed into the mud below and you clamped your mouth shut. Don’t yell, that was the last thing you needed. You pushed yourself across the ground as you tried to gather your thoughts and your broken body. One hand was still holding the gun out of the mud as you used the other to push yourself up. You braced yourself against a broken down car as you searched the lot once more for movement. You could only hope he was too stupid to reposition himself.
The thought that Cerberus had still been on the other side of the fence didn’t quite register until you heard the clink of metal and the scratch of claws on chain link fence over your shoulder. Fear rushed through you for the first time the whole mission as you heard another round of shots fire off from across the lot. You could only hope he was firing blindly into the night and that he hadn’t somehow caught sight of Cerberus in this darkness.
Your gaze darted up as confusion swirled in your eyes along with a hint of pain you were trying to ignore as well. Without any command the dog had leaped the fence as his resolve and patience finally wore thin and ran out. Mud and water sprayed up into his thick, brindle fur as Cerberus hit the ground. He didn’t even take a second to listen to anything you had to say. It was apparent that he was running on instinct, completely wild and untamed now. It wasn’t exactly something you would be inclined to praise in another situation but right here in the middle of a storm and with both of your lives on the line the longer you remained outside the wire you didn’t attempt to stop him this time.
Cerberus, a missile across the ground even in the bog that was this…Was this a fucking junkyard? Oh yeah without a doubt, especially as you hopped the decrepit car you had almost landed on top of. You tried to follow the dog but he was impossibly fast and a thousand times more capable of flitting into the opened skeletons of dead cars. He disappeared from sight as he dove through one frame of a car and scrambled out the window on the other side.
And then he disappeared from sight as you vaulted another car and tried to follow after him. As you jumped to the next car you heard a scream rip through the air. The sight of the person who uttered it was blocked by a stand of cars though as you continued to wind through the junkyard. Rain continued to pound down on your helmet and drowned out the splashing of mud and water as Cerberus wrestled Amaan to the ground. You weren’t there to see the way the skin tore as the man struggled to get away from the iron jaws around his forearm. Nor did you see his arm as it was nearly torn apart and off by the animal that was operating completely rogue at this point.
As you vaulted another car just beside the stand that was blocking your sight your eyes landed on the violently shaking head as Cerberus’ jaws and body kept the man pinned to the ground. Almost dragging him over the mud and now covered the man as you took a slow step forward. You found yourself reveling in the man’s screams, enjoying them. He was a vile man, a demon that had come to visit the mortal world and you couldn’t help the peace you felt watching Cerberus work. This man had killed so many, hurt even more both physically and emotionally with the death he had wrought on this realm. He deserved this. He deserved to feel a fraction of the pain he himself had caused.
“Speck!?” A voice yelled into your ear piece, raspy and deep and probably the only thing that could have caught your attention at this point. He always caught your attention. Your eyes darted around you for just a moment as if you expected to find the man somewhere around you before Amaan’s screams reached your ears again. Growls from the dog in front of you drew your eyes just in time to see the man’s free hand reach for the gun he’d dropped when Cerberus had initially taken him down.
Again your lip curled up in response as you aimed at the perpetrating hand and sent a round straight through the back of his palm. A fresh scream tore from his throat before he drew his hand back towards him in an attempt to protect it. Taking a step forward you knelt on his back before grabbing one of the zip ties that hung from the pouch at your waist. With one quick, “Aus,” the animal’s jaws relented and fresh blood pooled out of the wounds as he did.
His loud barks thundered in your ears even louder than mother nature’s ruckus overhead. It was still all a game to him, even if he had broken his hold for a moment he still thought it was just a game. There was no distinction between play, training, and work, and you’d used him not as a tool but as revenge this time. What the fuck were you doing?
“Speck, answer me!” His voice broke you from your thoughts again as you shot a glance down to the wire connecting your earpiece and the mic around your throat. Hurriedly you drug the man’s arms behind his back, smiling as he groaned out in pain and said a few garbled words you couldn’t make out in the storm. You tightened the plastic around his wrists before standing back up with your foot on the middle of his back to hold him in place. Amaan wriggled helplessly in the mud as rain still poured over the both of you in the dark din of the storm.
Swallowing hard, you took a deep breath and reached up to press the button on the mic, “Junkyard.” Well that was certainly descriptive now wasn’t it? Good God Speck, say something else, give them something else to go off of. What else could you give them?
Your eyes darted around the fenced in lot as you actively ignored the man still writhing beneath your foot. Think, Speck, think of something else to say, there had to be some other way to tell him exactly where you were. “I’m about a hundred and fifty meters from my last known,” silence encapsulated you for the first time that night, even the tumultuous skies overhead went quiet seeming to sense the urgency of this situation. Cerberus had fallen silent at your side as well, his eyes still watching the man at your feet in what was as close to a daring look as you’d ever seen, if a dog were even capable of that.
Seconds passed by as you waited for someone to answer you. Any reply at all to set your nerves at ease. Finally, John’s voice rumbled in your ear again as he asked, “Did you get him?” You could sense the hope in his voice even over the radio, a daring want for this to finally be over.
Your gaze slid to the man beneath you as you rolled Amaan over onto his back with your boot and glared down at him. His teeth were gritted and his lips peeled back over his teeth as he tried to hold back the sounds of pain he was no doubt feeling as he laid on several injuries to his limbs. “Oh yeah, Captain, you bet your fuckin ass I got him.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bloody hand prints painted the white metal floors and walls as the false panel of the van sat open in front of you. Your jaw tightened as you looked at the evidence of what had happened on this latest mission, the blood that had been spilled on both sides of this war tonight. You were standing at the back of the van with your knees pressing against the bumper, and despite how empty it made you feel you couldn’t find the will to look away from the mess before you.
Even Gaz passing in front of your gaze couldn’t interrupt your rushing thoughts. Your mind went idle as you watched him spraying the blood out of the back, your arms crossed over your face as you stayed put. Mud still caked nearly every inch of your clothed body after you’d all but rolled in it back in that junkyard. While both specks of blood and dried mud decorated your face like the makeup a toddler would have painted across your skin. Even strands of your beard were stuck together with the dried, brown substance as it cracked every time you reached a hand up to run your fingers through it. You watched with every muscle tensed as the bloody water dripped out onto the cement floor before it disappeared underneath the van to head down the drain.
Not all of the blood was Watcher's at least, half of it belonged to Amaan after Cerberus had nearly torn his arm off at the elbow. You should have let him do it too. It was what that fucker deserved after he shot that poor kid. Sure Watcher had signed up for this just like anyone else had, but it didn’t mean that the whole team wasn’t still feeling this hit. Even you were as new to them as you were.
A door opened somewhere behind you and still you stared ahead as Gaz continued to clean up his friend’s blood slowly, seemingly as lost in his own head as you were. You certainly weren’t blaming him. “Speck,” the deep voice broke your concentration as you turned to eye the perpetrator with a cocked brow.
John came to a stop beside you finally and you caught his gaze just as it landed on your face. He’d been in an interrogation with Ghost and Amaan for the past few hours as you all waited for the sun to set once more, not to mention the tail end of the storm that was still raging overhead. Your arms dropped from your chest as you turned towards him, your head tilting quizzically. Jesus you needed to get out of your fucking head, that was never a good place to be. “Did he talk? What’d he say?”
Blue eyes held you hostage in their gaze, his hand finding yours as he stood there. It was only for a fleeting moment though, not nearly long enough for either of you. Only a passing graze over the rough texture of your palm that was still dyed a deep red. His index finger felt like a feather ghosting over your skin just as the rest of his hand wrapped around yours. John’s thumb grazed over the back of your knuckles before he pulled away so that the only other man present didn’t see and shook his head in answer, “No he didn’t. I doubt he’ll talk any time soon, Speck.” At his words a flash of frustration passed across your gaze as your eyes flicked towards the door that led into the main room of the safehouse.
You’d been here before in this safehouse, been at the end of this interrogation once already. So why was the only thought crossing your mind, ‘They ain’t tryin’ hard ‘nough.’ They knew what they were doing, you knew that, but you couldn’t help but feel like you could do more. There was this need to seize control in such an unsure situation that scratched at the back of your mind, it was the way you’d been trained. Thrown at problems relentlessly and told to figure it out, it was the only thing in life you’d ever been good at. Or at least that was what you had always told yourself.
Your features darkened but you didn’t give him a chance to see as you stepped away from him without a word and your eyes shot to the door as you headed straight towards the door back into the safehouse. Until fingers wrapped around your bicep and John intercepted your progress, putting himself between you and the door. “Just let me give it a go, John,” even before you finished though the other’s head was shaking. His strong grip stayed securely around your arm as his other hand came up to rest gently against your chest. Warmth spread into your skin from his palm as it laid against the gear you still hadn’t stripped out of. His head continued to shake even as you pleaded helplessly, “You’ve been in there for hours, he’s obviously not all that afraid of you. Let me-”
“No,” John’s firm answer resonated through the small garage and you heard the hosepipe stop behind you, though the gaze leveled in front of you held you frozen in place. This was the man who had soothed the raging inferno of your temper in the worst of times, and after letting Cerberus nearly tear Amaan apart that fire had burned out to a barely smoking ember as you questioned everything about yourself. You needed something to ground you and as the realization hit you couldn’t help the small huff you let out because of course you did. When did you not need him to stabilize your deteriorating mental state of late? Pathetic. “Go clean yourself up, Speck. Take a break.” Your jaw tensed as you neared an overt refusal of his suggestion. When he sighed deep though and you had to watch his head tilt as he leaned a bit closer, “You smell like shite, Love. Trust me, yeah? We know what we’re doing.” Trust him. Damn.
Your eyes hit the ground immediately as you took a step back to put some distance between y’all. Shrugging his hand off your arm his other hand fell off of your chest and the cold you’d been ignoring began to set into what felt like your very soul. A deep chill rushed through you though you kept your head on as you nodded a hesitant answer, “Yeah, John, I know.” You glanced back over your shoulder towards the van just as Gaz turned his back in an attempt to give some semblance of privacy. Surprising. Turning back to the Brit you found the ocean depths in front of you and took a slow breath, “Where’s the bathroom?” You watched as his shoulders visibly relaxed in front of you and he curled up the corner of his mouth in a half smile.
Nodding his head towards the other door that led off the garage he lifted his arms to cross them over his chest before answering, “Through the door and down the hall on the left.” You nodded slowly and turned, leaving him behind as you headed to clean yourself up. Cerberus lifted his head as you passed where he was laying against the wall.
The smell of wet dog and the pungent, metallic tang of blood wafted up your way as you went, nearly choking you with the severity of it. Smells had never really bothered you before, but now you felt a roiling in your gut as you neared and unconsciously sped up past him. Cerberus’ head fell back down to the concrete as you passed, failing to signal or call for him. The Dutchie could wait until y’all were back at base, there wouldn’t be much you could do for the smell right now anyway. You’d let him sleep for a bit now, he’d earned that much at least.
Opening the door you stepped through the threshold, letting the darkness of the hallway swallow you into its embrace as your hand reached out to slide along the wall. You weren’t even sure you were actually walking, not until your fingers ran over the knob of a door on the left hand side of the walland you pushed it open. Fumbling for just a moment your hand searched the wall beside the door before you flipped the lightswitch on the wall and your eyes ran over the small bathroom. Your eyes froze as they found the mirror on the wall, swallowing hard as you took in the sight.
You hadn’t truly looked at yourself in so long now that it was hard to recognize the mud and blood covered man who stared back at you. Sure you had shaved in a mirror on occasion or seen yourself in the reflection of a window when you passed, this was different though. You hadn’t actually taken the time to gaze upon the visage of what you had become over what was now nearly three years. Hadn’t let yourself realize this was your life and you had ruined it. And as you looked at yourself you slowly began to realize you no longer recognized the man who looked back.
The deaths you had lived through had changed you, they’d rewritten the etched lines on your face and put patches of gray in your hair. You’d still been a young man when you’d lost them, as carefree as you could have been living that lie anyway. Your mind had still been that of a teenager and in some ways it still was, but you’d lost that bright, young smile and carefree attitude. They had made you callous to the pain of others and you’d lost some of yourself over the years. And what made it all so much worse was that you hadn’t even realized it until Cerberus’ teeth had been tearing flesh from Amaan’s forearm. Hell you’d been more than ready to kill a man who had simply been doing his job and Wade hadn’t deserved that.
Your eyes dropped to the sink below, blinking as you cleared your thoughts of the man you’d seen in the mirror. Taking a deep breath you flipped the water on, trying to smother the way your heart was racing and how clouded your mind was becoming. Water from the faucet ran cold over your hands as you tested the water before sighing and reaching up to the straps of your tactical vest. You stripped it off over your head with a vicious pull and threw it into the floor, the panic still rising as you fought to keep it together. Rolling your shoulders and head you felt the tension in every muscle and you could only wish for a shower at that moment, something warm to melt the ice forming in your veins. Fuck you wanted, no you needed a damn shower.
The skin tight shirt clinging to your torso was still damp and made chills rack your body as you stood there. Reaching down to the hem of the shirt you pulled the thin fabric up over your head and glanced down at the pink droplets of water left behind on your chest that had seeped through the fabric. Diluted by water and mud you watched as they slid down your chest and disappeared into the waistband of your pants.
Christ you were still thinking too much. You leaned down over the sink and cupped your hands underneath the water as the blood that had been caked on your hands and in the grooves of your fingernails began to wash down the sink. Mud turned the typically bright red into a darkened ruddy color as it added to the already dirtied sink. The stains on your hands slowly began to dissipate as you leaned your face towards the sink and dipped your head beneath the water. Running your fingers through your hair and beard you could feel the dried mud and blood begin to loosen in the strands, doing your best to clean up in the small space.
Slowly you lifted your head back up, running your hands vigorously over your hair as if they themselves were towels and in the same moment you heard drops of water hit the murky liquid still attempting to drain below. Your hands braced on either side of the sink’s bowl as you stared down at the rust colored water below. You should have been better, been there. Why hadn’t you been the first one through that door? Because you’d been too busy dealing with non-combatants. You should have been fucking quicker. The tips of your fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the side of the sink as you got lost in the realm of your thoughts once more unable to pull yourself from them.
“Speck,” immediately your head jerked up at the deep voice right behind you and your eyes shifted to his reflection in the mirror, focusing on the face that now stared back at you. The brunette beard drew your gaze first but only for a moment before it shot up to the deep depths of what was quickly becoming your only place of safety and calm. John was the one who broke your locked eyes as he turned to look out of the door before he closed it behind him with a soft, barely audible whisper of sound. In fact the only noise was that of the lock clicking into place though you barely even noticed because your eyes were glued only to that face, completely incapable of looking away. Stock still in his presence.
Turning your head cautiously you glanced over your shoulder, watching him now out of the corner of your eye. Even that was too much though and had your face and the rest of your body warming in response. The second he was there though your mind stopped whirling. How could it not when the only thought running through your mind was, ‘He looks good in black, he should wear it more often.’ The tempest that was raging had come to a halt in the eye of the storm the moment you were captured by his eyes. Standing back up straight you turned, just barely enough to look at him and with one hand still holding on to the sink for support for fear your knees were going to give out.
You watched him for a moment in the precarious silence of the room, in the whole building really, before his head tilted. The blue gaze was unable to stop its descent down your bared chest though, giving his thoughts away like a snitch. There was no doubt he was tracing the droplets of water that were dripping from the strands of your hair and beard and falling over your skin. Without meeting your gaze again and while he was still inspecting the scars and muscle along your stomach and chest, he asked in a voice still laced with concern, “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Good Lord that was the last thing you wanted to fucking do. Talk about feelings? Right now? Fuck that. There was no way in the fucking world you were gonna allow the boner killer that were your thoughts out. Your fingers loosened on the side of the sink as you turned fully towards him. You needed a distraction, something to pass the time. You needed him.
There wasn’t exactly much space to cover in the small bathroom, only a few inches at most. You were across the short space at the speed of light. Probably faster if you were being honest. One of your hands ran over his cheek before it wrapped around the back of his head to tangle into his short brunette strands there. Your lips pressed to his gently at first before something more needy and wanting overcame you.
His body went rigid at the initial contact, almost like he seemed unsure of what you were doing. Surprised maybe? At least that was until your hand slid against his hip to run across the small of his back and you pulled him closer. You could feel his muscles start to melt in response to your touch then before he was matching your neediness. Matching the desire you had for him at every moment of the day. His need for you was shining through just as much as yours was and God if that didn’t feel just fucking amazing.
For once it wasn’t Price jumping on you, in fact you could still sense some hint of hesitation despite his hungry, devouring mouth still pressed to yours. Your hips grinded against his and you could feel yourself twitching in response, still confined to the tight fabric of your pants. Desire and need and some tail end of an adrenaline high fueled your movements like throwing gasoline on a fire. When John pulled his mouth away to take in a breath your lips moved to the corner of his, pressing a kiss there and then down across his beard and caught the strangled sound of a groan in the air before it cut off.
You were insatiable in your need for him as you nipped at the thin skin of his neck, pressing ever closer to him in search of the warmth you knew radiated from him. Impulsively you sucked at the skin of his throat, not considering the hickey you were probably giving him as you listened to the deep rumble of his throat. It vibrated against your lips and you pressed a quick kiss to the spot before moving a bit lower to do the same thing, his body tensing again in response before melting once more.
Fuck. He tasted like the salty prick of sweat and the earth yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. Enough of him. The fingers that you had tangled into his hair pulled and his chin lifted up in response as you continued to mark his skin. As you continued to claim him as your own even though you knew that he wasn’t yours to claim but fuck he was, wasn’t he? That’s right. He was yours. Yours and only fucking yours.
Your body pushed closer as you shoved him back against the door, trapping him against you and the hard surface as you tried to control yourself to no avail. John didn’t seem to mind too much though as you listened to him let out a huff in response and then he was reciprocating. His hands pulled you impossibly closer as strong fingers grabbed at your hips and you felt him roll your body fluidly against his own. He was urging you on without even needing words and good God it was the sexiest thing you’d ever witnessed.
When his other hand ran over the expanse of your bare back you felt his calluses scratch across your skin, and a noise rumbled deep within you in response. Something primal and animalistic and you could feel John’s body shudder against yours in response. It was a noise you’d never made before that had his hands sliding over your skin and grasping harder at your hips. Searching for something neither of you seemed too certain about yet.
Fuck you wanted him though. You wanted to bury yourself inside of him and never pull out again. You felt like a King when he’d done it to you, you could only imagine how you’d feel sliding into his walls. He’d never let you though. But God did you want it, you wanted him. You wanted just about anything and everything he’d fucking give you or let you take. Fingers grasped at the back of your neck, digging hard into the muscle as you rutted your hips against him again.
You could feel yourself harden at just the thought of fucking him like a man gone feral, and you were well on your way to that exact point. “Spe-” his voice sounded strained as a moan escaped and cut off his pleading voice. When you glanced up through dark lashes you could see his teeth biting into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and part of you wondered if he had. God why was the thought of that so hot? “Speck,” he finally managed to groan out as your thoughts ran rampant with the many different ways you could ravage him right here in this bathroom. “We need to talk.”
Fuckin hell, John, not right now. The hand you had at his waist slipped around to his front as your hand groped blindly at his hardening length. He twitched beneath your palm as his cock strained for more. “Ya really wanna talk right now?” You could barely catch your breath enough to ask the question and to be fair he didn’t seem much better either. Your heart was racing in your chest and your head felt like it was swimming with so many things you couldn’t even begin to identify exactly what it was. At least whatever had been bothering you before was long forgotten now though.
Without waiting for him to answer your mouth was on his neck again as you pressed a trail of gentle kisses on your way up his neck. One after another they pressed into his skin until you felt the hairs of his beard tickling against your lips and the tip of your nose. He hummed in response for a moment before he finally tipped his head back again and groaned out, “Fuck no. Later.” Unable to resist your teasing mouth you felt his throat rumble against your mouth again with pleasure. Slowly, you made your way along the underside of his jaw with your fingers still pulling at the short strands of his hair to keep his head from tilting back down. You were holding him in place with just your body now and the gravity of the situation was starting to sink in.
You were in control. He was letting you do whatever you wanted to him and he wasn’t stopping you. God you could feel him still straining against the fabric that held his erection at bay, the buttons of his pants straining to keep the fabric closed now. Glancing up you watched his face as something close to a smile found his mouth at the attention you were paying to his neck. At the claim you were steadily etching across his skin in what would be small purple bruises in a few hours. Fuck.
Letting go of his hair, both of your hands made for his waist as you grabbed hard at his sides, your thumbs pressing against the bones of his hips hidden just beneath the muscle there. The moment you released his hair though his chin tilted down and you felt his fingers pull your face back in range so he could press his lips to yours. You pulled him off the door with a sharp tug and spun the two of you around slowly as your hands slid behind to grab at his ass. One palm for each perfectly shaped globe.
God he was perfect. All you could think about was how it would feel to sink inside of him, how tight his walls would grip your poor, neglected erection. What he would sound like and what it would feel like to hear him moan as you fucked him until the only thing his foggy mind could think about was you, and how good you felt. You wanted to fuck him stupid, and christ right now you certainly had the stamina too. God just to fuck him until he came on your cock like he’d done to you so many times already.
A strained moan left you at the thought as his teeth sunk into your lip and you pressed him back slowly into the sink. Without so much as a single thought going through your head your hands grabbed at his backside and you lifted him up sliding him backwards to sit on the rim of the sink. He grunted and you felt him stiffen again as he pulled away with a bit of surprise in his eyes. You froze in place with your hands still holding him tightly and with your hips slotted perfectly between his thighs, just a bit too far for either of you to feel any friction though. “Bloody hell, Speck,” his voice was quiet and just barely reached your ears as he watched your expression.
Dark brows furrowed and you watched the tip of his tongue slide out to wet his lips before he leaned forward to press his forehead into yours. His fingers dug into the locks of your hair that had grown out way too long these past months out here, pulling at the strands with a spark of something unidentifiable in his eyes. When your jaw tensed though you saw his mouth turn into a smirk before he muttered, “You’re always surprising me, Love.” The tension in your jaw dissipated slowly as you watched him without a hint of what was going through your head now.
Slowly your face tilted up until you felt your nose tap against his. When you leaned forward again though he pulled away with a teasing shake of his head. You couldn’t help it when your gaze darted down to his lips and narrowed, before you jerked him forward until he was flush with you once more and nearly falling off the sink. Grinding against him you muttered quietly, “Full of those, ain’t I Angel?” The corners of his mouth turned up just a bit more and this time he was the one who bridged the gap as he pulled at the hair still trapped between his fingers and he captured your lips once more.
It didn’t take long before your head was swimming in him once more. After y’all had been stopped last time that feral need for one another was boiling hot and you needed him. Every single thought was lost in the way he felt pressed against you. Lost in the way he kept one hand wrapped around the back of your head and the other was sliding around your throat and then down your chest slowly.
Blunt nails drug over your bare flesh before you felt fingers pulling deftly at the belt around your waist. You couldn’t help the smile that raised the corners of your mouth as he did. Something far more primal than you’d ever felt was clawing its way across your mind now. As his fingers moved on to the buttons of your pants you felt the friction as it grazed over your sensitive member.
You couldn’t stop yourself as you bucked forward towards his hand, your mouth falling agape with a low groan. John’s amusement came out in a short huff as his hand delved inside of the black cargos, pulling your member free quickly. The moan you let out was sinful before he shot forward to cut it off with a hard kiss. Strong fingers slid along your shaft slowly as he swallowed down your quiet groans that you couldn’t hold back despite your desperate attempts. It didn’t seem to matter though, John had no qualms with keeping them quiet himself at this point.
Fingers wrapped around your length as you leaned further into him with a groan. Begging him wordlessly for more. You tilted your head down and you could hear him give a low hum of appreciation at the weight of you in his hand. Your head had already been swimming before he’d even gotten his hand around you, but now? Now you were drowning in the attention he was lavishing upon you in heaping servings.
Still holding tightly onto his backside you knew you were denting his perfect flesh, dotting it with even more bruises. You couldn’t wait to see them. God just the thought was enough to send you near spiraling again. “Fuck John,” you managed to whisper as his free hand moved up to cup your cheek and his thumb ran over your skin with a delicate touch. It shouldn’t have been so intimate. You’d never meant for this to be sensual, you were in a bathroom for fuck’s sake. This should have been rough, quick, distracting, no room for thought. Yet here you were as he tried to hold your gaze with his.
The need to be something more would never escape you when it came to him, you knew that somewhere deep down, but you couldn’t deal with that, not right now. His thumb grazed slowly along the head of your cock and you barely stopped another moan as you watched his deep blue gaze, your eyes half lidded and barely managing to stay open now. There was a smirk on his face as he realized he had you like putty in his hands once more despite that for the first time you didn’t want to be.
Fuck it. Your hips rolled forward with a fluid motion as you thrusted into his open hand and simultaneously pushed him further back onto the sink. When his head tilted, your eyes shot down to avoid his gaze and your hand slid over his hip and then around to the inside of his thigh.You drug your thumb slowly over the closure of his pants and your fingers dug into the flesh of his thigh he hummed in satisfaction. “When did you become a tease?” His voice was husky as his hips pressed up into what little bit of friction he could get from your feather-light touch. Meanwhile his own hand was still pumping up and down your throbbing length in slow, careful strokes.
Giving him a nonchalant shrug you answered back in a slow drawl, “What can I say?” You pressed your hips closer as your lips once more dipped in search of his neck, wanting to feel his pulse against your sensitive skin. They pressed lightly against the dark stubble, once more tasting the earth and salt of his skin which for once was absent of his usual chocolatey taste that you knew came from his cigars. When you pulled back again your voice was lower as you rumbled out a quiet, “You bring out the best in me, Angel.”
His chin tilted up just before you felt a heel hook around your thigh and he pulled you closer. The hand that was still around your length stilled. It was like he was frozen in place and in that moment you realized just exactly what you were doing to him. This was a two way street, he felt it too. You were doing to him exactly what he always did to you and you couldn’t stop the smile that bled through as you continued to press kisses against his neck and popped the buttons on his pants. The pulse that thudded beneath his skin almost felt like it quickened against your lips.
However, you were certain you felt it quicken when your fingers slid into the waistband of his underwear to graze over the length of his cock. The man beneath your mouth and touch shuddered and squirmed against you, nearly begging for more before you pulled his length free. Your mouth stopped its relentless assault on his neck as you leaned away for just a moment before your forehead tilted down to lay gently against his shoulder. John copied the motion as you felt his beard scratch against your cheek, the longer hairs grazing over your skin and making it tingle with an itch that you ignored.
Both sets of eyes turned down to watch as your hands moved in sync along the length of your erections. Precome welled from the tips slowly and you could feel his calluses catching along the veins of your cock and you knew that yours were doing the same along his. Especially when you heard a mumbled, “Shite,” into your shoulder as he tried to keep himself quiet. The pressure was building though as your heart began to beat a solid rhythm that you felt not only in your chest but throughout your length as well.
This wasn’t the same as being buried inside him but you’d take what he was more than willing to give. Best not to push your luck for now and you’d take anything he gave you in truth. Twisting your wrist at the head of his cock you heard him gasp before his hand let you go and his head tilted back. “Bloody hell, Speck. I can’t-” You repeated the motion and his words turned immediately into a moan as his head tilted back.
There it was. He was losing himself in the moment as you continued to jerk him off, eating up the sight of him getting lost in the way you could make him feel. His mouth was babbling nonsense as he tried to keep his thoughts together and failed miserably. God almighty, you could listen to these breathless gasps for air and his quiet pants for the rest of time and be completely happy standing right there between his thighs.
Blue eyes disappeared behind pale lids and his cheeks flushed red before your eyes. The collar of his shirt dipped just barely low enough that your gaze could pick out the dark dustings of hair at the top of his chest along with the smallest hint of his collarbone. A treat for your eyes just as much as every facial expression was. Good God he was beautiful and you could feel a near painful throb in your length just as you thought it.
When his cheeks flushed deeper your hips bucked forward instinctively, your cock searching for something and something it found as the head of your dick ran along the underside of his. The moment you felt that little bit of friction you just couldn’t stop yourself as your fingers wrapped around both of your leaking erections. Newfound need had your hand pumping quicker and it was obvious both of you were feeling yourselves getting closer and closer to the finish line. Hell John’s mouth was held agape as he tried to catch his breath while the rest of his body worked relentlessly to reach that peak.
One hand held painfully tight on to your shoulder as the other seemed to dig into the side of the sink. His muscles tightened but it wasn’t the same as last time even though you weren’t sure what he was doing. Not until you felt his hips thrust up towards your hand as he tried to speed his climax along. His member ran along the underside of your own as he moved and you sucked in a breath just barely holding in a long moan and instead let it out in a quiet hiss that was covered up by a soft groan of pleasure. “John,” you paused and he hummed in response with his eyes still closed while your hand continued dragging up and down your lengths. “Angel, you’re being too loud. Someone’s gonna hear us.”
John whimpered deep in his throat before it escalated into another moan and you watched as he tried his best to bite it back. Teeth dug into his bottom lip before he leaned his head forward and forced his eyes open to find you. Blue hues searched your face half lidded and lazy as he gazed at you. The blush across his cheeks deepened and the Brit let his mouth fall open again as he panted into the stale air of the bathroom. “Sp-” Your thumb ran over the head of your own cock and gathered some of the precome before continuing on to graze over the tip of his.
This was a completely different man in front of you now. You’d broken him down and God it felt good to know that you even held that power over him, over anyone really but especially John Price. Even more though was that you had him at your very whim right now, there was no doubt in your mind he’d have given you anything in that moment. John was completely under your spell and you’d never felt more in control of another human being as you did now. “Shhh sweetheart, I’ve got you,” your voice was quiet as your eyes stayed locked for as long as the other could manage. When you said that you had him though and you implied that he could trust you, that he could let go of that dominant persona he always seemed to exude, that was when the last of his resolve evaporated.
You rolled your hips forward again in a fluid motion and as you did the last hand you’d been holding onto him with shot up. Your palm slapped over his mouth and you just barely managed to muffle another whine that would have undoubtedly given the two of you away. John’s head fell back hard and smacked against something behind him but the both of you were too far gone to really piece together what exactly had just happened. Heads so far in the clouds someone could have been firing a gun outside and you would have been none the wiser.
With your hand still muffling the noises he couldn’t hold back and the way he continued to thrust in your still pumping hand you knew he was about to finish soon and you doubted you were going to get a warning. Not with how he was still panting into your hand and the flush on his face only seemed to get deeper by the second. Hell the throb in your own member was beginning to edge nearly into pain as the pressure continued to build, just aching to be set free.
Fuck you were close, so fucking close now. You couldn’t help the low grunt you let out as your hand tightened around the heads of your erections. Pumping one more time your eyes darted down as you felt his body stiffen and his cock twitch in your hand. Your eyes landed on his cock just in time to watch his cum paint the back of your knuckles and the front of his black cargos. It almost felt wasteful in that moment but in the next you couldn’t even remember what you were thinking about.
He whimpered against the flat of your palm as his body spasmed once and he thrusted into your hand again, another shot spraying along the head of your cock and dripping slowly down your length. Your eyes darted up to find his beet red face as you quickly continued to pump up and down the length of both of your members. Letting him ride out his orgasm while you still hungrily chased your own.
Slowly his muscles unwound and John slumped back against the wall and mirror behind him. Pale eyelids lifted tiredly and revealed the ocean hues to you once more as you pulled your hand away from his mouth finally. You slid it slowly to his cheek as you cupped his face with one hand, still chasing your own climax with the other to no avail.
The air was too warm against your skin though. Everything felt too tight and too close even though he still wasn’t close enough. You couldn’t imagine how John felt with his t-shirt clinging to him. God why hadn’t you pulled that fucking thing off of him already? You wanted to see his chest now, that gorgeous fucking body that you knew was hidden beneath as you still tried to find your own release.
It was escaping you though, dancing tantalizingly out of reach. When one of Price’s hands wrapped around your wrist and stopped your rapid chase as he mumbled out, “What’s wrong, Love?” The hand that had been cupping his cheek fell away as you ducked your head and your hand fell away from your throbbing member.
It felt like all the energy dissipated from your limbs the moment he stopped you as you leaned forward and relaxed into his chest. Your forehead nudged lightly against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you and you felt your length dragging against the fabric of his pants still throbbing painfully as the pressure at the base of your cock begged for release. Your own hands settled at the small of his back as you continued to roll your hips forward against him unconsciously.
As you turned your face into his neck you answered quietly, “Nothins’ wrong. Just tired.” He hummed his acknowledgement of your statement as his fingers traveled slowly down your back and side until he halted at the bone of your hip, his thumb rubbing slow circles into it as he took a pause. You waited a moment before you questioned him quietly, “Why’d you stop?”
John’s shoulders moved up in a quiet shrug before he muttered out, “Thought you said you were tired.” You pulled back to look at his face and found a lazy smirk on his features before his fingers tightened around your hips to keep you from moving too far away.
Your brows furrowed before you gave him an annoyed huff of an answer, “Tired, Angel, not fuckin stupid.” The smirk turned into a look of amusement as his hand trailed across the muscle of your stomach. John’s fingers wrapped gently around your length as you thrusted up into his hand unable to control yourself. You were already nearly gone before he got here, and he was only igniting that inferno again that you’d been afraid had danced too far out of reach. You should have known better when it came to John Price though.
His hand slid down your length once before he released you and lifted his hand to his mouth. You asked a silent question with a tilt of your head but he didn’t need to respond as he spit into the palm of his hand and returned it just as quickly as he’d pulled it away to your length. The burn of his calluses disappeared as his saliva and cum slickened palm slid over your sensitive skin. A much needed relief as his hand tightened around your length and you felt your release racing forward once more. It was crowding in on you so fast now that the fog in your mind was returning with a vengeance. The fog you’d been chasing earlier and been unable to find shelter in was now clouding every thought as you struggled to remember why you’d even been upset.
Your lips parted in a silent gasp as he trailed his thumb against the underside of your cock and then over the head. Leaning forward you tried to capture his lips for a kiss but he pulled away and instead your chin tilted down and you felt your forehead rest against his chin as you panted into the stale air once more. Your gaze traveled slowly down his front to where his hand was pumping steadily over your member.
Closing your eyes for just a moment you missed it as he added a second hand to the mix. It was the straw that tipped the scale as you hissed out a quiet, “Holy shit.” There was a pulse in your length and then your whole body went rigid. Your hands fell a bit lower on his sides and you jerked John forward to press his chest to yours. You let your eyes shut for a moment and you somehow managed to hold back a moan that would have most definitely traveled beyond these walls as you focused instead on the way his hand felt still traveling up and down your length.
A moment later your muscles began to unwind as you relaxed into the grip he had around your shoulders and John’s hand pumped slowly as the last vestiges of your climax began to dissipate. Everything stayed silent for a few long moments while you regained your thoughts and the fog over your mind cleared in that post-fuck haze. Even though you had been the one in control he still had your head in the fucking clouds. It wasn’t fair and truly you couldn’t have cared less. Not in that moment…Not ever.
#call of duty#ghost cod#ghost#modern warfare#soap cod#soap#john price#captain price#price x reader#captain john price#price x oc#price x male reader#captain price x male reader#captain price x oc#captain price x reader#john price x oc#john price x reader#john price x male reader#konig call of duty#gaz#kyle garrick#gaz cod#konig cod#konig modern warfare#cod modern warfare#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley
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i was possessed randomly so you all get this 😈 (i gotta keep my place in the angstflayer somehow lmao)
tw for mentions of death, nothing explicit! just talk of passing on/the afterlife
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It was smoother than he thought it’d be, dying.
Passing on.
The moment of death.
It really was just like falling asleep.
He knew it was time; he was old now (decrepit if you ask his grandkids) but it was something he didn’t even realize he was so ready to welcome. Whatever illness he was saddled with the last couple years already fading out of his memory.
Stepping into his new…life? he’s not sure what to expect.
He floats along for a while. In nothing, being nothing, when suddenly, the nothing in front of him starts to solidify.
Instead of nothing, Dustin Henderson is a young man again. He can see his feet walking across pine needles and leaves. over hard-packed dirt and pebbles.
He knows this path, and starts forward confidently.
Skull Rock comes into view through a break in the branches, looming over him and coated in dappled sunlight.
So, he sits down. Settles in to wait for his friends, hoping they are far behind him, when he’s startled by a noise above him.
First, a leather jacket plops down in front of him, followed closely by worn white reeboks, ripped black jeans, a flash of a white shirt. All still wrapped around someone he lost way to fuckin’ soon.
Dustin’s chest and throat constrict, his eyes burn.
The figure turns, their insane brown curls frizz tossed away from his face when he does.
“Hey butthead.” Eddie Munson smiles at him for the first time in 70 years. “You have my vest.”
Dustin looks down at himself. The worn denim vest in question is, indeed, hung over his shoulders. Fitting just a bit bigger than he last remembered.
He huffs out a chuckle, the tears start to fall down his cheeks. “Thought you might want it, asshole.”
He’s crushed into a hug that lasts an eternity, finally pulling away from Eddie after a good eon or so.
Huffing out another laugh when he does, Dustin wipes the tears off his face and says, “Not that I’m not over the fuckin moon to see you, but is.. is he here?”
Eddie grins at him, “Is who here?”
“Henderson!”
Steve.
Steve’s here.
He’s actually fucking here.
“‘Course he is, little man. Been waitin’ for you, ya know.'' Eddie shakes his shoulders, spinning him around and starts to march him back down the path. ���Well,” he feels Eddie shrug behind him, “You AND Robin, of course. She’s just real stubborn about leaving, I think.”
They’ve gone maybe four whole steps, when Steve Harrington breaks through the branches in front of them.
“Dustin!” Steve strides forward, wrapping Dustin up in a hug.
He mumbles everything and nothing into the tears that soak the cap atop his head. A good trade for the already soaked spot at the front of that yellow sweater of his.
“You’re here! I missed you so much! It’s too soon… it’s always too soon, but still! Your kids are all so beautiful, your grandkids too! I’m so so sorry I left before I could meet them, Dusty, I wanted to so badly.”
More and more (mostly repeated “You’re here!”s) until he can’t say anymore and falls silent around him for their own eternity.
“I missed you too, Steve.”
#st#dustin henderson#eddie munson#steve harrington#herringson family#henderdads#dustin has two dads#not stated but i’m also implying steddie here#steddie#stranger things#st ficlet#angst#fluff#feels#all the good stuff#noelle writes#tw: mentions of death#tw: death mention
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Good Afternoon, Mrs. Kit.
How about a secretly, chaotic darling/“owner” short?
—
“Not as bad as what is going on right now.” The darling reports. Scrolling through their phone.
“What you mean—“
Boom!
The friend of the darling jumps, and looks back outside. Then looks back at the Darling, looking shocked before rushing outside with the Darling just casually following behind.
“W-What did you do to their truck?!” The darling's friend yells out, astonished. Their hands combing through their hair.
“What truck?” The darling simply replies. Unbothered, as they watch the flames eat at the said truck that was white.
Until, she spots her Astartes(s) coming back from one of their weekly trips.
Huh, well sh*t.
—
I wasn’t sure about the Astartes type. So, free rein?
Couldn't think of something to go directly off of this but I'm gonna work with the vibe of it.
tw: abuse? Someone gets slapped. Then someone almost gets clapped permanently
"FUCK YOU!" They could hear walking back into their normally sleepy community. The most ruckus that was caused was mainly by the Astartes living there... and maybe the HOA.
"By the dark gods who is yelling?" A black legionary asks one who would have normally separated to head back to his human family.
"Carthax is that yours?" Someone asks
"I've never heard her yell before." The world eater says as the group of them round the corner and Carthax sees his human yelling at a male human. Sure they were bigger than his human but there was nothing-
SMACK
He blinked as he watched his human get hit. The nails dug in deep. His scream of rage was deep and guttural. "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" He ignored the distant bark back of 'Skulls for the Skull throne' as he ran.
"CAR DONT KILL HIM!" Is what he heard at the last second as his chain axe moved a few inches before its teeth ripped into flesh only sinking into the ground. Carthax was over the man... he wasn't focused on his screams... his twitching hand eased up on the lever for his chainaxe. KHORNE DEMANDED BLOOD! HE DEMANDED BLOOD. He looked to his human the rebreather over his mouth frothing as he twitched and snarled.
"Of Course you'd get a fucking World Eater!" He man under him snarls and Carthax lightly squeezes his throat as a warning growling.
"Fuck You so much! I got a World Eater because I know your psychotic ass can't listen to a fucking restraining order!" You scream as Carthax could see the large red handprint on the side of your face.
"I could kill him." Carthax snarls out in Gothic. But he is certain you have an idea what he is saying to you.
"Car get off of him. He's not worth it." You say knowing that he'd probably would actually kill your ex and add his skull to that shrine in your basement... you still don't know where the blood is dripping from and how it's not just staining the floor... its very bizarre. "Now get in your fucking car and stop annoying my neighbors! And if you accuse me of fuckin him again I swear to... Khorne I will slap you!" You hated your ex as he was weird and paranoid about Astartes and what had set you off was him accusing you of leaving him to sleep with your Carthax; though you know if you had a boyfriend you were certain he would bring up cheating again. You turn away and go to head back inside.
"Don't you walk away from me!" He shouts before Carthax gets in-between him and you snarling and revving his chain axe as he just intimidates him back into his car and watches him drive off. The nails feel like they dig less as Carthax rushes inside to see you on the floor in the kitchen cradling your face.
"Get me the phone." You say sadly as you're not looking forward to dealing with the police and then them being all suspect of your world eater and it being a mess. You just lean your head on his arm as the phone is placed into your hand. "Did you have fun?" You start but Carthax shakes his head and taps the phone gently as you sigh. "You promise to tell me about it after?" You smile as he nods and just sigh as you once again file a report on your ex.
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I ALSO FORGOT TO POST THE EPILOGUE VERSION OF MY SELFSHIP FUCKKKKKK
these are also from last year and only posted on fb.
After Ele's international studies ended, she had to go back to her country and Pete would be left on his own until 11 years later. Ele grows up to study toxicology and gets offered a job in New York, so she packs her stuff and leaves the country to establish a new life.
Her first week passes by and she decides to take a little trip to an aquarium to calm her nerves. She bought her tickets and took a little walk until she's left paralized, staring in awe at the huge shark tank of different species, until some guy approaches and taps her on her shoulder.
— "Ey', sweetheart. You wanna be in a movie?"
Ele turned around and saw a shorter guy standing. His tone seemed familiar, but Ele couldn't really notice a lot of his face since it's hidden by a hoodie and a cap, until he lifted his face and showed a toothy grin and some eyebrow raises. Those facial features quickly snapped on her mind and asked him:
—"Do I know you?"
which the guy responded with a "Just call me Pete". The brunette's eyes widened a bit and the last name that she had forgotten for years was about to quickly burst out her throat.
— "DiNunzio?"
Pete's grin was brushed off his face, a little nervous since nobody had a stranger adress him by his last name. He looked directly at the woman's dark orbs and, with a little quiver on his voice, he asked:
— "How do you know my name?".
Ele was surpised an old friend of her didn't quite remember her, maybe because she's not wearing those hippie clothes? Or her straightened hair?
—"How come you don't remember me? It's me! Elena! The girl who had her community service at the library?"
She got worried for Pete, explaining about her time, back when she was 16 and studying at Eltingville. The memory quickly got Pete to her ground, his beady white eyes getting bigger after seeing an old friend.
—"No fuckin' shit, you??!!"
He almost shouted, amused by her change of looks.
—"You look... different. Not that you look bad or anythin', you look pretty. Dat's it."
Pete was straightforward, honest with her, way different when he used to be a violent young man. The both of them remained still, standing beside eachother and now looking at the shark tank.
—"So, wat'chu working for? What brought you 'ere?"
Pete broke the silence, curious about how Ele has been through the years. He put his calloused hands in his pockets, keeping one mako shark in movement in his eyes.
—"I finished senior year back in Colombia. I graduated, went to college, studied pharmacology, toxicology, all that stuff. And I got a job offer when I graduated, but I had to move here in America. The offer said it pays well, so I'll get enough to live."
Ele calmly answered, satisfied about how far she's gone. She then inhaled and dared to ask the same question, a little curious about getting asked to participate in a movie.
—"And you, DiNunzio? What have you been up to? Are you in a movie crew, hiring actors in the wild?"
—"Well, yeah! That's sort of a part of what I do. I worked for my dad for a good time until I started workin' for cons and then at Chiller. But I met this one guy at a party, talkin' about horror porn, that shit I used to watch. That guy had a crew, specialized in doin' those movies and shit, and so I got hired at Sick Mofo. If you wanna watch some then come call me."
Pete reached his pocket and gave Ele a card contianing the information of Sick Mofo Productions, it's website and phone number. Something like a business card.
—"Interesting, you kept going with your horror stuff , I'm impressed. You doing good in there?"
Ele kept the card under the shirt's little pocket on the chest area, giving Pete a little warm smile.
—"It's awesome in there, at least for me. Lotsa chicks doin' the good stuff and havin' fun! Sight for sore eyes if ya tell me, sugar."
Pete flashed his confident, toothy grin to his friend, letting out a chuckle.
—"I'm glad we got to meet eachother again."
Elena stretched out her arm to give a friendly handshake. She had her manicure done perfectly, the tone of red that matched her skin like blood. Pete's cheeks tinted into a little red and reached out to shake her hand, illuminated by the blue of the water tank.
did this one today. the probability for these two (US) to get married is about a 50%. not because they're so in love with eachother (friend w benefits) but because their respective families are disappointed that they're both single and need to construct a family or whatever.
("me marrying my friend on my 30's after neither of us got a partner")
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