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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months

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What kind of bubble is AI?

My latest column for Locus Magazine is "What Kind of Bubble is AI?" All economic bubbles are hugely destructive, but some of them leave behind wreckage that can be salvaged for useful purposes, while others leave nothing behind but ashes:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Think about some 21st century bubbles. The dotcom bubble was a terrible tragedy, one that drained the coffers of pension funds and other institutional investors and wiped out retail investors who were gulled by Superbowl Ads. But there was a lot left behind after the dotcoms were wiped out: cheap servers, office furniture and space, but far more importantly, a generation of young people who'd been trained as web makers, leaving nontechnical degree programs to learn HTML, perl and python. This created a whole cohort of technologists from non-technical backgrounds, a first in technological history. Many of these people became the vanguard of a more inclusive and humane tech development movement, and they were able to make interesting and useful services and products in an environment where raw materials – compute, bandwidth, space and talent – were available at firesale prices.

Contrast this with the crypto bubble. It, too, destroyed the fortunes of institutional and individual investors through fraud and Superbowl Ads. It, too, lured in nontechnical people to learn esoteric disciplines at investor expense. But apart from a smattering of Rust programmers, the main residue of crypto is bad digital art and worse Austrian economics.

Or think of Worldcom vs Enron. Both bubbles were built on pure fraud, but Enron's fraud left nothing behind but a string of suspicious deaths. By contrast, Worldcom's fraud was a Big Store con that required laying a ton of fiber that is still in the ground to this day, and is being bought and used at pennies on the dollar.

AI is definitely a bubble. As I write in the column, if you fly into SFO and rent a car and drive north to San Francisco or south to Silicon Valley, every single billboard is advertising an "AI" startup, many of which are not even using anything that can be remotely characterized as AI. That's amazing, considering what a meaningless buzzword AI already is.

So which kind of bubble is AI? When it pops, will something useful be left behind, or will it go away altogether? To be sure, there's a legion of technologists who are learning Tensorflow and Pytorch. These nominally open source tools are bound, respectively, to Google and Facebook's AI environments:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/18/openwashing/#you-keep-using-that-word-i-do-not-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means

But if those environments go away, those programming skills become a lot less useful. Live, large-scale Big Tech AI projects are shockingly expensive to run. Some of their costs are fixed – collecting, labeling and processing training data – but the running costs for each query are prodigious. There's a massive primary energy bill for the servers, a nearly as large energy bill for the chillers, and a titanic wage bill for the specialized technical staff involved.

Once investor subsidies dry up, will the real-world, non-hyperbolic applications for AI be enough to cover these running costs? AI applications can be plotted on a 2X2 grid whose axes are "value" (how much customers will pay for them) and "risk tolerance" (how perfect the product needs to be).

Charging teenaged D&D players $10 month for an image generator that creates epic illustrations of their characters fighting monsters is low value and very risk tolerant (teenagers aren't overly worried about six-fingered swordspeople with three pupils in each eye). Charging scammy spamfarms $500/month for a text generator that spits out dull, search-algorithm-pleasing narratives to appear over recipes is likewise low-value and highly risk tolerant (your customer doesn't care if the text is nonsense). Charging visually impaired people $100 month for an app that plays a text-to-speech description of anything they point their cameras at is low-value and moderately risk tolerant ("that's your blue shirt" when it's green is not a big deal, while "the street is safe to cross" when it's not is a much bigger one).

Morganstanley doesn't talk about the trillions the AI industry will be worth some day because of these applications. These are just spinoffs from the main event, a collection of extremely high-value applications. Think of self-driving cars or radiology bots that analyze chest x-rays and characterize masses as cancerous or noncancerous.

These are high value – but only if they are also risk-tolerant. The pitch for self-driving cars is "fire most drivers and replace them with 'humans in the loop' who intervene at critical junctures." That's the risk-tolerant version of self-driving cars, and it's a failure. More than $100b has been incinerated chasing self-driving cars, and cars are nowhere near driving themselves:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Quite the reverse, in fact. Cruise was just forced to quit the field after one of their cars maimed a woman – a pedestrian who had not opted into being part of a high-risk AI experiment – and dragged her body 20 feet through the streets of San Francisco. Afterwards, it emerged that Cruise had replaced the single low-waged driver who would normally be paid to operate a taxi with 1.5 high-waged skilled technicians who remotely oversaw each of its vehicles:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/11/03/technology/cruise-general-motors-self-driving-cars.html

The self-driving pitch isn't that your car will correct your own human errors (like an alarm that sounds when you activate your turn signal while someone is in your blind-spot). Self-driving isn't about using automation to augment human skill – it's about replacing humans. There's no business case for spending hundreds of billions on better safety systems for cars (there's a human case for it, though!). The only way the price-tag justifies itself is if paid drivers can be fired and replaced with software that costs less than their wages.

What about radiologists? Radiologists certainly make mistakes from time to time, and if there's a computer vision system that makes different mistakes than the sort that humans make, they could be a cheap way of generating second opinions that trigger re-examination by a human radiologist. But no AI investor thinks their return will come from selling hospitals that reduce the number of X-rays each radiologist processes every day, as a second-opinion-generating system would. Rather, the value of AI radiologists comes from firing most of your human radiologists and replacing them with software whose judgments are cursorily double-checked by a human whose "automation blindness" will turn them into an OK-button-mashing automaton:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

The profit-generating pitch for high-value AI applications lies in creating "reverse centaurs": humans who serve as appendages for automation that operates at a speed and scale that is unrelated to the capacity or needs of the worker:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

But unless these high-value applications are intrinsically risk-tolerant, they are poor candidates for automation. Cruise was able to nonconsensually enlist the population of San Francisco in an experimental murderbot development program thanks to the vast sums of money sloshing around the industry. Some of this money funds the inevitabilist narrative that self-driving cars are coming, it's only a matter of when, not if, and so SF had better get in the autonomous vehicle or get run over by the forces of history.

Once the bubble pops (all bubbles pop), AI applications will have to rise or fall on their actual merits, not their promise. The odds are stacked against the long-term survival of high-value, risk-intolerant AI applications.

The problem for AI is that while there are a lot of risk-tolerant applications, they're almost all low-value; while nearly all the high-value applications are risk-intolerant. Once AI has to be profitable – once investors withdraw their subsidies from money-losing ventures – the risk-tolerant applications need to be sufficient to run those tremendously expensive servers in those brutally expensive data-centers tended by exceptionally expensive technical workers.

If they aren't, then the business case for running those servers goes away, and so do the servers – and so do all those risk-tolerant, low-value applications. It doesn't matter if helping blind people make sense of their surroundings is socially beneficial. It doesn't matter if teenaged gamers love their epic character art. It doesn't even matter how horny scammers are for generating AI nonsense SEO websites:

https://twitter.com/jakezward/status/1728032634037567509

These applications are all riding on the coattails of the big AI models that are being built and operated at a loss in order to be profitable. If they remain unprofitable long enough, the private sector will no longer pay to operate them.

Now, there are smaller models, models that stand alone and run on commodity hardware. These would persist even after the AI bubble bursts, because most of their costs are setup costs that have already been borne by the well-funded companies who created them. These models are limited, of course, though the communities that have formed around them have pushed those limits in surprising ways, far beyond their original manufacturers' beliefs about their capacity. These communities will continue to push those limits for as long as they find the models useful.

These standalone, "toy" models are derived from the big models, though. When the AI bubble bursts and the private sector no longer subsidizes mass-scale model creation, it will cease to spin out more sophisticated models that run on commodity hardware (it's possible that Federated learning and other techniques for spreading out the work of making large-scale models will fill the gap).

So what kind of bubble is the AI bubble? What will we salvage from its wreckage? Perhaps the communities who've invested in becoming experts in Pytorch and Tensorflow will wrestle them away from their corporate masters and make them generally useful. Certainly, a lot of people will have gained skills in applying statistical techniques.

But there will also be a lot of unsalvageable wreckage. As big AI models get integrated into the processes of the productive economy, AI becomes a source of systemic risk. The only thing worse than having an automated process that is rendered dangerous or erratic based on AI integration is to have that process fail entirely because the AI suddenly disappeared, a collapse that is too precipitous for former AI customers to engineer a soft landing for their systems.

This is a blind spot in our policymakers debates about AI. The smart policymakers are asking questions about fairness, algorithmic bias, and fraud. The foolish policymakers are ensnared in fantasies about "AI safety," AKA "Will the chatbot become a superintelligence that turns the whole human race into paperclips?"

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

But no one is asking, "What will we do if" – when – "the AI bubble pops and most of this stuff disappears overnight?"

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/19/bubblenomics/#pop

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

tom_bullock (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/tombullock/25173469495/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

#pluralistic #ai #economics #business #hype #bubbles #bubblenomics #residue

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soaps-mohawk · 2 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 14: The Aftermath

Summary: Your heat is over, now all that's left to do is heal.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz

Word Count: 5100 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, fluff, angst, nightmares, PTSD

A/N: Surprise!! Got this one done super early because I kind of just want to move forward with this fic and get to more exciting things so enjoy this bonus chapter. This weekend's update might come a day late, we'll see. Not entirely happy with this one, but it's really just setting up the next part so...yeah. Enjoy!!

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

(Gif found on Google)

A rumbling purr vibrates in your chest. It’s a purr of contentment, of satisfaction. You’re warm, not like you had been nine days ago when your heat started, though. This is a comfortable warmth, a cozy warmth. You’re under blankets in your nest, pressed against a bare chest. You trail your fingers along smooth skin until you hit a familiar scar slicing through the skin, right below his clavicle.

“Got that one outside a bar in Manchester.”

You pause in your movements, tilting your head to look up at John. He’s staring down at you, his own fingers starting to trace a pattern on your back.

“Was years ago. Some bloke was getting rowdy inside. Pulled him out to try and talk him down, and he pulled a knife on me.”

“I can imagine what you did in response.” You murmur, laying your head back on his chest.

John huffs out a laugh. “Left him with a couple missing teeth, and quite the dent in his head.” He smooths a hand over your side. “You feeling alright?”

You hum in response. Your eyes feel dry and puffy from crying, and you’re terribly thirsty. You’re beginning to feel the ache in your body again, the steady pulse of pain between your legs starting up. “Hurting again.” You murmur, smacking your lips. “Kinda feels like I swallowed sand too.”

“Almost time for another muscle relaxer.” He says, glancing at his phone before grabbing an electrolyte bottle from the nightstand.

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking as you go. You let out a quiet whimper at the ache in your body, eyes filling up with tears again.

“Easy.” John tries to soothe you, brushing the hair from your face. “You’re alright.”

“Sorry.” You sniffle, taking the electrolyte bottle. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not. It’s just a natural part of coming down from a heat.” John says as you gulp down the contents of the bottle.

“My mom cried after her heats.” You say, putting the cap back on the electrolyte bottle. “I heard her once, when I was like seven or eight. My dad had picked us up from the care center on base. I wanted to see my mom, but their bedroom door was closed. I could hear her inside, crying alone. My dad scolded me, sent me back down the hall when he saw me. It never felt right to me, that she was in there alone like that, but maybe things are different when you have pups.”

“I don’t think it was right.” John says as you lay back down against his side. He’s tense, limbs stiff even as his arm wraps around your back.

“There were a lot of things my dad did that I questioned.” You say absentmindedly, tracing circles on John’s stomach to try and calm him. “Maybe it was just that inner part of me that knew I’d be an omega that made me notice it more. My brothers never said anything, but then again, they all presented as alphas.” You shift against John’s side, tucking your head so he can’t see your face. “Maybe I was just unlucky.”

He grunts, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You can’t control what nature decides.”

“Can’t control a lot of things.” You say quietly as he tightens his hold around you. “Suppose I am lucky in one regard.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

You shift yourself so you’re facing him, tears sliding down your cheeks again. “You’re a really good alpha.”

He pulls you against his chest again, pressing your face into his neck. “I don’t know if I’d call myself that.” He says, gently stroking your hair. “Just treating you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“You treat me like I’m a human being.” You sniffle, wetting his skin as you cry. “That’s better than I’ve been treated since I presented.”

You don’t see the way his brow furrows, the frown tugging at his lips at your words. You do feel the way he tenses for a moment, arms clenching around you before he relaxes again, a quiet purr rumbling through his chest as he soothes you.

“I haven’t left your side since your heat started.” He says, taking your hand in his.

“Really?” You ask, brows pinching a bit at his confession.

He hums. “Except to use the bathroom.”

“You must be sick of me by now.” You say.

“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re my sweet little omega. Could never get sick of you.”

You let out a soft purring noise, the sound slipping through your lips before you even realize it. Your eyes widen and you push yourself up out of Price’s neck in surprise. “I’ve never made that noise before.”

Price smiles softly at you, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “Just means you’re happy.”

“Hmm.” You lay yourself back down against his chest, resting your ear over his heart. You suppose you are happy.

Or, at the very least, content.

Standing hurts.

Your legs feel a bit like jelly and your muscles ache deeply. It’s been almost five days since your heat ended, and yet you still feel like you just ran a marathon with no training beforehand. You know part of it is that you’ve been laid up for almost a week, but after that kind of physical exertion, you needed rest. You had only gotten up to stumble to the bathroom a handful of times, leaning heavily on John to avoid straining your muscles anymore than they already were.

You should get up and start moving now, though. It will help with the stiffness, you know, and you should get the blood flowing at least a little.

You’re also starting to go a bit stir crazy cooped up in your room all the time. You can only rearrange your nest so many ways, and you’ve even started to kick John out of the nest, opting to cuddle with your giant bear instead.

You've showered, finally feeling properly clean for the first time in almost two weeks. You dress yourself, opting for the loosest clothes you own, and forgoing underwear. You’re not sure you can handle anything too tight on your skin yet.

“Ready?” John asks, standing near the door.

You nod, putting on your slippers as he opens the door. Arms wrap around you as soon as you step out into the hallway, your feet leaving the floor.

“She lives!” Johnny exclaims, spinning you around.

You grunt at the impact of the excited Scotsman, but wrap your arms around him anyway, taking in his citrusy scent. You have missed him, not realizing how boring life would be without him until now. You’ve even missed Ghost a bit, his looming presence making the world seem a little less big.

“Easy, Johnny.” Ghost scolds the overjoyed beta. “She’s still breakable.”

“Sorry, kitten.” Johnny says, immediately setting you back on your feet and loosening his grip around you. “Missed ye, is all.”

“I missed you too.” You smile up at him.

“Thought ye might never be comin’ out of that room.” He says. “Thought I might have tae go in and save ye.”

You smirk. “You almost had to. Was starting to feel a bit stir crazy in there.”

He grins playfully at you. “Well, yer more than welcome to spend the night elsewhere if yer sick of bein’ cooped up.”

“She's definitely not going to be doing any of that for a while.” John says, stepping up behind you. “R&R is the only thing on her schedule right now.”

Johnny pouts. “But what if I just want tae cuddle?”

“Since when do you ‘just cuddle’?” Ghost asks.

“I can just cuddle.” Johnny pulls you against his chest again, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “I'll do it for our ‘mega. I’ll prove it right now.” Johnny pulls away from you, steering you towards the rec room.

“I’ll keep an eye on them.” Ghost says to Price, giving him a look before turning on his heel, following you and Johnny to the rec room.

Johnny flops down on the couch, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You lean against his chest, breathing in his scent again. It’s refreshing, after being stuck in a room with the same scents. You could never grow tired of Price’s scent, but when it’s all you’ve been able to smell for an extended period, you start to get tired of it. You remember nearly tackling Kyle in an attempt to get a whiff of his scent, but the sting of scent blockers had nearly brought you to tears again.

You let out a quiet sound as Johnny tilts his head, letting you breathe in his scent directly from the source. You start to purr quietly, nose pressed against his throat. An answering rumble begins in his own chest, his arms tightening even more around you.

“Smell good.” You murmur, your lips brushing his skin. Goosebumps erupt across his neck, a shudder trailing down his spine.

“Easy, mutt.” Ghost grumbles from the chair beside the couch, his eyes on you and Johnny.

“Cannae help it.” Johnny almost whines, trying to ease you away from his neck. He grips your chin as your head lolls, a drowsy smile forming on your face as you blink up at him. “Christ, yer gettin’ scent drunk.”

“Missed you.” You murmur, your brain quieting to a soft buzz as you lean your head on his shoulder, listening to the quiet rumble in his chest.

“Missed you too.” He says, his hand dropping from your face. His fingers ghost over the mark on your shoulder, making you twitch in his arms. “Cannae believe yer officially part of the pack. Seems like just yesterday ye were arriving, all shy and timid. Now look at ye. Purring away on my lap with Price’s mark on yer shoulder.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, a reminder of just how quickly things have changed. It’s only been almost seven weeks since you arrived in their lives. How quickly things have happened, how quickly things have changed. Though, you suppose things could have happened faster. You’re lucky they gave you so much time to adjust. Many alphas would have started the process as soon as you were in their sights.

They’re not like that, though. They’ve turned your beliefs on their head and changed your perspective entirely. Alphas can be good and caring and don’t just always take what they want.

You sniffle as tears pool in your eyes again, Johnny looking away from the TV to stare at you.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks, sounding worried.

“Nothing.” You say, pressing your face against his shoulder. “I’m just crying cause I’m happy.”

“I know, this is probably the last thing you want to be doing right now.” Dr. Keller says from the end of the exam table. “But, unfortunately, it is necessary.”

You’re silently glad for the numbing spray, the pressure still enough to make you wince, but you can’t even imagine the kind of pain you’d be in if you weren’t numb. You wonder how many omegas have to go through this without it, how many are subjected to the horror without any sort of pain relief.

“And we’re done.” She says, pulling away. “Everything looks good, no tearing or other injuries.” She pulls her gloves off, John helping you lower your legs from the stirrups. “Though, I’d suggest abstaining from any rigorous physical activity for at least another week.”

Your face warms at the implication of her words. You’re not sure you’d want to anyway, at least not for a while. Aside from the soreness, after six days of near non-stop...activity, you might shrivel up and die if you see a naked man again anytime soon.

“Do you feel up to chatting today, or would you rather go back to bed?” Dr. Keller asks as John helps you sit up. “Won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to.”

You think about it for a moment, chewing on your lip before you answer. “We can talk.”

She nods, smiling. “Aright. Take your time, I’ll be in my office when you’re ready.”

She leaves the room, leaving you and John alone. You move slowly as you get dressed, still a bit sore and stiff. John walks you to the door, wrapping his arms around you before you can enter, pulling you against his chest.

“Call me, if you need anything.” He says.

You nod, staring up at him before you lift yourself onto your toes to kiss him. He purrs quietly when your lips touch his, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull back, staring up into his eyes for a moment before you turn away, heading into Dr. Keller’s office.

You take your usual seat, silently grateful for how comfortable the chair is as you sit down. You’ve been avoiding sitting as much as possible, having spent the last few days lounging in bed with John and occasionally Gaz.

“Comfortable?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod. “Yeah. Think this is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller smiles. “You tell me if you get uncomfortable or if you want to end early, alright?”

You nod again. “Yeah.”

She nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “So, how are you feeling, aside from the discomfort? Your first heat with your pack, being claimed, that’s a lot all at once.”

“It is a lot.” You acknowledge, picking at your sweatpants. “I’m still...I don’t know, processing it, I guess? It’s...a big step, but it was always going to happen. That’s why I’m here, right? To be their omega, to be part of their pack.”

“That is true.” Dr. Keller agrees. “As much as I could say about it, you are right. This was the end goal of this entire experiment. But, how do you feel about it? Are you relieved that it’s over?”

“Yeah.” You answer. “I’m glad that it’s over, that it’s done with. I...guess I feel lucky too.” You chew on your lip nervously.

“In what way?” Dr. Keller asks.

“John’s a...good alpha. I think I knew that before, but...he took care of me. He didn’t hurt me, he’s never forced me into anything.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They’re all good pack members. Even Ghost.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller smiles. “I’m glad you feel that way. John is a fantastic alpha. He cares a lot about you and your wellbeing.”

“He treats me like I’m more than just my status. I feel like...like I’m a person again. Not just something that can serve others. I used to think that's just what omegas were supposed to do. At the institute, that's what we were taught. How to serve. But, I can see now how we do so much more than that.”

Dr. Keller practically beams at you. “That’s great! That’s so great that you’re beginning to discover your place in their pack. I think it will get easier, now that you’re official.” She nods towards your shoulder where your claiming mark now sits.

You fight the urge to reach up and touch it, curling your fingers around the fabric of your sweatpants instead. It doesn't hurt anymore, other than slight soreness if you lay on that shoulder after a while. The scabs are beginning to come off, revealing the scar that will decorate your skin for the rest of your life, showing proof of your place in Price’s pack as his omega.

“Do you feel different, being a claimed omega now?” Dr. Keller asks.

You do feel different. Not just because you're a claimed omega now. There's something else, a sort of connection now that you've never experienced, even with your family. You don't know how to describe it, except for a slight buzzing in the back of your brain that only seems to quiet when you're near John. You don't really notice it until you think about it, and then you can't get it quiet until you're near John again.

“Yeah.” You finally answer, trying to ignore the buzzing feeling in your brain.

“The bond,” Dr. Keller says with a grin. “Hard to describe, so I've heard. I've also heard it lessens in intensity with time. Has anything else changed? Any feelings?”

You shrug. “I guess I feel...better about being here. It’s still not ideal but...I feel happier.”

“Yeah? Good.” Dr. Keller writes something down. “That makes me glad to hear. You’re getting along with everyone?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’ve been getting closer to Kyle and Johnny. I know they’ll want to progress our relationships after I’ve healed a bit.”

“Is that something you want?”

You nod. It is something you want. Kyle has already seen you in your most vulnerable state, and you know Johnny has been anxiously awaiting his time. You’d even consider getting closer to Ghost, though, that would be entirely up to him and what he wants. You know getting closer to Johnny will inevitably force you and Ghost closer, but you won’t push the alpha’s boundaries.

That will only end poorly for everyone.

John is awake instantly as soon as the knock comes at the door. He calls for them to enter, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he stares blearily at the computer screen in front of him. Simon’s giant form approaches the desk, sinking into the chair across from him.

“Getting caught up?” Simon asks, looking him over.

John nods. “Slow progress. Hard being out of commission for six days.”

“Well, you didn’t miss much excitement. Laswell called a couple times. Kyle talked to her.”

“That’s what he said.” John leans back in his chair. “Checking up on our girl.”

“Sent over some things that might interest you as well.”

“I see that.” John says, glancing at the email in his inbox. One of several hundred unread emails.

“You look tired.”

“Think I’m getting old, Simon.” John says, running a hand over his face. “I don't remember things being this rough, coming out of it.”

“I’ve heard purebreds are different.”

John gives him a look. “Thank you for holding down the fort.”

Simon shrugs. “Things are going to get difficult now.”

“We have a job to do, above everything else. That was something we knew from the start.” John says.

“Things were different then.” Simon says. “It's going to be a struggle.”

“We knew that too.”

“I'm not talking about the omega.” Simon's voice lowers, taking on the low rumble of Ghost. “I'm talking about you.”

John's back stiffens as he stares at his Lieutenant. “This doesn't change anything.”

“It changes everything.” Simon stands from his seat. “Just how much, we won't know until we're in it.” He turns, making his way towards the door.

“You think you're immune?” John says, making him pause by the door.

“No. But I've been keeping my distance for a reason.” He turns the handle on the door, turning to look back at John. “One of us has to have a clear head.”

John watches as the door closes, something tickling in the back of his mind. He sighs as he sinks back in his seat, eyes moving to the computer screen and his hundreds of unread emails.

He closes the browser, shutting down the computer, staring at the screen until the hum of harddrive quiets. His skin is prickling now, thinking back on Simon's words. Of course things have changed. It would be no different had they added a fifth person to the team. He knows leaving will be hard, but they have a job, a duty to perform. That always comes first above all.

Can he make it come first after this?

He remembers how different things had felt after he claimed Kyle. His decisions became safer, but his actions became riskier to ensure Kyle's safety. It wasn't that he doubted Kyle's abilities. He knows Kyle is more than capable of taking care of himself. That's why he's on the team. It was his instincts needing to protect his pack, to ensure his beta's safety.

What is he going to do now that there's an omega involved?

You won't be going with them, you won't be in the field, but they'll have to leave you behind. It could be weeks before they'd see you again, if they see you again.

The thought has a sick feeling churning in his stomach.

Maybe Simon is right.

Maybe things have changed too much.

John rises from his seat, his joints cracking. He stretches, groaning quietly at the ache still present in his muscles. It's faded for the most part, but he can still feel it if he's immobile for too long. It's not the worst pain he's ever felt, but it's hard to think of a time he's felt worse.

Maybe he is getting too old for this.

He pauses outside Kyle's door, staring down at the knob. He feels bad for what Kyle had to go through the last almost two weeks. He knows it's a natural part of pack life, a natural role for betas, but he still feels guilty.

“Everything alright?” Kyle's voice breaks through his thoughts. The door is open now. Kyle standing there in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.

He hadn't even noticed the door open.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “It's nothing. I don't want to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me.” Kyle gives him a worried look. “Just got out of the shower. You can come in, if you want.”

His feet are moving before he even thinks about it, Kyle closing the door behind him. He sinks down into Kyle's desk chair with a heavy sigh.

“What's on your mind?” Kyle asks, grabbing the jar of coconut oil off his dresser.

“Too much.” John answers, looking up at him as he approaches. “Everything's going to change now.”

“Yeah,” Kyle says, setting the jar on his desk before scooping some out. “Things change all the time. We learn and adapt to them. That's what we do.”

John watches him rub the oil on his face and neck, watching the movements of his hands. He's right. Always the voice of reason and logic. They were trained to adapt to anything. It was their job. They had adapted to your presence easily enough, they could adapt to this new development too.

It would take time, but they could do it.

“You're right.” He says, staring at Kyle's glistening skin. He wants to be the one to rub the oil onto his perfect skin, feel the softness of it under his hands. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. You've been a great help through this.” He stops Kyle from grabbing more coconut oil, grabbing some himself. “I owe you a lot for neglecting you these last couple weeks.”

“You weren't neglecting me.” Kyle says, giving him a small smile as John starts rubbing the oil over his shoulders. “You were taking care of our omega.”

A satisfied growl rumbles through John’s chest at his choice of words. “Now let me take care of you.”

Kyle’s breath stutters as John moves behind him, rubbing oil onto his back before moving to his chest. His fingers brush over Kyle’s nipples teasingly, pulling a quiet groan from the younger beta’s lips. John leans against his back, slipping his hands down lower, feeling the ridges of his muscles pulled taught from John’s touch. His lips press a soft kiss to the claiming mark on Kyle’s neck, Kyle’s head falling back against John’s shoulder. John growls in approval at the submissive position, his fingers trailing the waistband of Kyle’s sweatpants.

John gathers more coconut oil on his hand before he slips them under Kyle’s pants, spreading the soft oil across his skin. He’d chosen to forgo briefs under his sweatpants, Price’s hand brushing against Kyle’s half hard cock.

“Fuck...” Kyle breathes, arching into John’s touch.

“How many times did you jerk off to the sound of us this last week?” John asks, wrapping his hand around Kyle’s cock.

“At first I didn’t,” Kyle says, pressing his hips into John’s hand. “Was too focused on making sure nothing went wrong. But then...” He lets out a moan as John begins jerking his cock. “Then I couldn’t take it anymore. The mental image of you two together, the sounds she was making...” Kyle lets out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut as John brushes his thumb over the head of his cock.

“Wanted to be in there with us, huh?” John asks, hooking his thumbs over the waistband of Kyle’s sweatpants, tugging them down so they drop around his ankles. “Did you imagine yourself right in the middle, taking my cock while she takes yours? Or did you imagine yourself taking my cock while our sweet omega sits on your face?”

Kyle lets out a moan, his arms reaching back to grip John’s hips as his legs shake with pleasure. John continues to stroke his cock, pressing a gentle kiss to Kyle’s shoulder.

“We can make that a reality.” John says, squeezing Kyle’s cock, earning a sweet moan in response. “I’ll show you all the places to touch that get her riled up. I’ll show you just how she likes it, how to get her legs shaking around your head.”

Kyle’s nails bite into his skin, but he doesn’t care as he continues to jerk his cock, getting him closer and closer to the edge. Price drags his thumb over the tip, spreading precum on his skin.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Price growls in his ear, pumping his cock faster. “Want to know what she feels like wrapped around your cock?” His teeth nip at Kyle’s ear, his beta’s lips parted as he moans loudly. “Want to know what she tastes like?”

“Fuck...yes!” Kyle almost whines, hips jerking as he cums, spurting all over John’s hand. “Yes, yes, yes!”

John works him through his orgasm, continuing to lazily jerk his cock as Kyle twitches in his hold. He presses his nose against Kyle’s throat, inhaling the intoxicating mix of sweat, coconut oil, and his natural briney scent. He presses a soft kiss against his mark, finally stopping his movements to allow Kyle to recover.

“Good boy.” He praises his beta, wrapping an arm around him to help him to his bed.

“You really mean it?” Kyle asks as he drops onto the mattress, catching his breath.

“We’ll have to ask her, of course.” John grabs Kyle’s sweatpants, cleaning off his hand before tossing them in the hamper. He moves back to Kyle’s bed, joining his beta. “But if she’s up for it, then so am I.”

You’re warm. The ice pack pressed against your forehead does little to soothe the burning under your skin. You’re thirsty, the two empty plastic bottles on your nightstand were not enough to ease the dryness in your mouth.

Hands shift the ice pack, pressing it against your cheek. Your mother is there, seated next to your bed diligently. She’s crying, tears sliding down her cheeks, quiet sniffles breaking the silence in the house.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, bringing your hand to her lips. “I’m so sorry,” She apologizes, as if it’s her fault, as if she brought this onto you.

She gasps quietly as the door opens, her back stiffening as your father enters. His face is stern, mouth almost twisted with disgust as he stares at you. It feels wrong, having him invade your space. If you’d had the energy, perhaps you would have been brave enough to protest his presence.

“Come on.” His voice is gruff, worn down from years of smoking and yelling. “Get up.”

“No, please-” Your mother attempts to reason with him, but he won’t have it.

“Shut up.” He snaps at her, and she has no choice but to sit back and be silent. His voice has something tingling in the back of your neck, almost like a warning. There’s nothing you can do, though. You’re far too weak.

He moves to the side of your bed, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from the comfort of your blankets. The ice pack falls from your head, your skin prickling with warmth almost like it hadn’t been there in the first place. Your brain is sluggish as you try to comprehend what’s happening, your legs giving out as you’re forced upright. You can’t get your body to work, you can’t even force yourself to behave. You want to crawl back under your blankets and lay there for the rest of eternity.

You whine as you’re dragged from your room, knees knocking on the floor as you attempt to get your feet under you to ease the pain in your shoulder. Your father drags you into the living room, two people you don’t recognize standing next to the front door.

“Please, please don’t do this!” Your mother pleads with him, right on his heels as he drops you in a heap in front of them.

“Enough.” Your father snaps at her, looking down at you with disgust. “She’s no daughter of mine.”

You blink up at him, the words registering through the haze. Tears gather in your eyes as you stare up at your parents, your siblings watching tensely from the living room as the scene unfolds before them.

“No, no!” You cry as hands close around your arms, lifting you from the floor. “Mama!” You scream, trying to fight them as you’re pulled from your home, your safe space, your family, your pack.

The last thing you see as the cool air outside washes over your feverish skin is your mother’s grief stricken face before the door closes, locking you out forever.

You wake falling from bed. You hit the floor with a thud, gasping for breath. You slap your hands over your mouth before the sob can tear from your lips, not wanting to wake the others. You’re shaking, your heart thudding in your chest as tears slip down your cheeks, sliding over your fingers as they squeeze over your mouth, desperately muffling the sound.

You hold your breath, forcing the pain and the panic and the grief back in. You can’t have these memories coming back to the surface, not now. Not when good things are finally starting to happen. Not when you’ve finally started to gain a glimmer of hope that things might turn out alright for you. You can’t ruin things now.

You can’t let them see how broken you really are.

Taglist:

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #John mactavish x reader

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ohcaptains · 4 months

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

john price x fem reader.

18+ !!! possessive husband! john, penetrative sex, cum play, light choking, use of the word 'sir', king of dirty talk captain john price.

just something i had to get off my chest! reblogs and thoughts are appreciated!

You’re spread, face down, and ass up on the duvet.

John’s hands are warm on your hips, his calloused fingers are digging into your heated flesh, and grabbing fist fulls, as if he wants to take you apart. You squirm against the pressure. You’ve always liked it when John grabbed you like this.

Like it a lot more when you’re spread wide open for him, though.

He hums a smile from behind you. “Gotta say it louder, sweetheart. I didn’t hear you.” You swallow down your drool. It’s pooling onto the sheets below your mouth, and you know that when this is all said and done, John will pull you against him and joke about the wet patches. Whisper heavily into your ear – look at the mess you’ve made, love, and you’ll blink at the sight, still sensitive from the daze he’d put you in. Melt against his chest. Say, it’s all your fault, and John would chuckle, kiss you sweetly, I’m such a bad guy, aren’t I?

Now, though, in the heat of the night, you couldn’t care less. You sink into your thighs, and the movement forces your pussy wider for him. John sighs at the sight. Grunting, as if he’s letting himself into temptation, he slides his thumb over your spread cheeks, and roughly drags it over your asshole.

You gasp, and buck forward, body throbbing. “Ah, John.” He lightly smacks your hip, “what did I say?” “You,” you loudly repeat, suddenly remembering what he asked earlier.

Who do you belong to? He’d grunted. You’d been far too dazed to respond clearly – coming twice from John’s thick fingers and tongue would do that.

Your husband hums again, grabbing your ass cheek and spreading you wider. “Look at you,” he whispers to himself, gazing at the wet slick of your cunt.

You’re soaking. Slowly floating into the abyss. Drifting off into a world of non-verbal communication, dazed smiles, and incomprehensible words.

You’re familiar with it.

Familiar with John fucking you stupid. Familiar with John’s soothing hand on the back of your neck as he coaxes you out of your small space.

Your husband presses the head of his cock against your cunt, then gently slides it through your slick, rubbing against your clit and aching hole. You mouth at the duvet, eyes rolling back until all you see is the soothing black.

“This wet cunt. All for me?” Your belly tightens. Pussy clenches around the memory of his dick. “John,” you whine, begging for more, begging for him to stop. You’re not sure at this point.

There’s not a lot of clarity to moments like this, it’s only after, when John’s got you in his arms, that you realise how far gone you were. Reflect on the words you’d said – the dirty spiel you’d whimpered to get what you wanted.

Still, though, as John feeds his cock into your swollen pussy, and grunts, “I’ll come inside this pretty cunt, fill you with my babies, huh?” you still have enough clarity left to shake your head and whimper, “N-No.”

John laughs darkly. He sinks his cock as far as it’ll go, and you cream around him, slipping quickly. “You sure?” he grunts, voice strained. His hands are gripping your cheeks, spreading them wide so he can see just as far you can take him.

“You don’t want me to get you pregnant? Show everyone that I fuck you good and proper?”

His words make you dizzy. Mindlessly, you clench around his cock, coating him, and John laughs with a groan.

He knows you. Knows you better than you know yourself.

Knows you’re chewing on the duvet right now, stuffing it into your mouth to quiet your sobs. Knows that there’s a knot in your belly right now, and it’s tight enough that you’re throbbing all over.

He slides his slick cock out, and when he slowly stuffs you with it again, there’s a wet ring pushing to his base. He clenches his jaw, shakes his head in disbelief, then takes his cock from you again.

Your breath hitches, waiting for him to sink back in, but then he presses in quick and tight, bottoming deep, forcing you to cry out suddenly.

“John, John, John – fuck. Fuck!” He ignores you. Continues his previous dirty drawl.

“Would look so good with my come leaking out of you, sweetheart,” he compliments. You beam. Jesus, you go blind with it. You would, fuck. You would look so good strung out, tangled in sheets with his come dribbling out of your swollen pussy.

You close your eyes to the thought of it.

Go to the sweet dark as John slides out, then buries in again. When he’s deep, and you think you’ve settled into the thick heat of it all, he hoists you against him – his chest to your back -- and presses his mouth to your ear, talking quickly, so you don’t have time to complain.

His voice is heavy. Haunting. Makes you cling to the hand he’s got tight around your belly.

“Pump you full of it, huh baby? then pull your underwear up.”

He begins to languidly fuck you. Rocks his hips up in deliberate strokes, setting a gentle, intoxicating rhythm that has your mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back. John breathes heavily in your ear, and you know it’s getting to him too.

“Make you sit in it all day. Go to work with your knickers smeared in my come. Your colleagues wouldn’t know that your pussy is all wet with me, but I would. I’d know.”

You sob his name. Lock your gummy walls to his thick cock, trying to milk him, and John near growls into your ear. “Fuck!” he snaps, and the sound echoes through you, and goes straight to your clit.

“You like that huh?” He drags his calloused hand between your trembling thighs and sloppily pushes his fingers over your clit. You double over in pleasure, but John keeps you pressed against him with the arm he’s got wrenched around you.

“Tightening around me. Shit. All this cause I threatened to punch a guy in the pub?”

You’re brought back to the memory: some guy grabbing your arm to try and dance with him, and John shoving him back, near pushing him into the slot machine.

He’d been shaking with rage. Went to get the guy's throat in his hands before you got involved.

“Like to pretend that it annoys you, but I know you love it when I’m possessive. When I keep you locked to my hip. We both know that it makes your cunt get all sticky when I fight someone for you.”

He’s right and you know it. When John had shoved the guy, you’d gone hot all over. But you’d pulled your husband to the smoking area and told him to cool it.

He went to pay the tab, and you went to the toilet. Spent most of it with your forehead against the door, trying to steady your thumping heart.

John’s still rubbing your clit, trying to catch it in his wet fingers. It’s all sloppy. It’s John breathing shakily against your ear, his deep, hungry tempo forcing a pool of desire to settle at your lower back.

He continues his pace – fucks you the way he knows you like it, steady, but hard -- and all at once, that ache that had simmered threatens to burst, and you spasm around his cock, gasping with the desire to come.

You let out an unrestrained moan, whimpering mindlessly.

Through the blood rushing through your ears, you hear yourself plea with him – fuck me, please. John. John. Please. You take his hand from your belly and drag it to your throat, grinding down on his dick.

John curses. Pushes you to the duvet, takes your hips in one hand, and rubs your clit with the other.

The sensation of both his fingers and cock makes you mute against the sheets.

Your body is numb. It’s all electric heat, wrapped around you like a cloak. You try to talk, tell him to fuck you, but all that comes out is drool and his name. Please. Please. Um gonna come. Um gonna come so hard baby—he smacks your ass, and the sudden pressure goes straight to your cunt, sending you spinning, and you’re squeezing around him, tight as a vice, coming on his cock.

John all but growls as he fucks you through your orgasm. “Gooood girl!” he shouts, watching you struggle and spasm around his cock, fidgeting and whining as white heat seers through your pussy. “Come inside me,” you gasp, drunk, so fucked out that you’d let him do anything he wants, and John groans, your cunt tight and so so warm and wet. “Come,” you drawl, your orgasm tailing off, and you clutch the duvet, whining in your post-come state. John’s still fucking you and the feel of his hard cock sliding through your swollen and slick folds has you babbling.

“Come inside me I want you inside of me.” John huffs a laugh. “No, baby, that’s not what you want.” You shake your head, delirious. “It is, I promise.” “No, it’s not. I’ve just fucked all rational thought out of your head. Brain’s gone dumb on my cock, huh baby?”

He smooths his hand over your back, struggling to contain his strained grunts through his spiel. You can’t decide which you like more: when John’s so turned on that all he can do is bark filth at you, or when he’s so turned on that he can’t, just moan and grunt and fuck you silly.

“Good thing your husband thinks for you, though. Turn around.”

In your bleary state, you manage to fumble around onto your back, and John grabs hold of your leg and pulls you down the duvet, forcing you onto your knees in front of him.

You blink up at his looming body – at his heaving, hairy chest, and clenched neck. His face is red with sweat, and the heady, heavy gaze of his eyes has your belly swirling. Blinking down at his hand, you dreamily watch him tug at his wet, angrily hard cock, before muscle memory kicks in.

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, and John groans deep in his throat, the sound twisting into a moan as he speeds up his tugging, and it's seconds before he’s pumping his come into your mouth.

Most of it lands on your tongue, or around your lips. But a smear of it shoots across your cheek. You don’t dare wipe it away; instead, once John’s finished, and he’s staring down at you with this wild, feverish look, you close your mouth and make a show of swallowing it down.

You’ve collected a lot of spit from having your mouth open for so long, and your mouth is too full to swallow it all in one go, so a trail of it slides down the corner of your mouth and throat.

John watches it drip.

Inhaling steadily, he reaches his thick hand out, and wipes the smear of it, along with the come on your cheek, away with his thumb.

“What was it you said?” he whispers. His eyes are black as he pushes his finger inside of your mouth. You close your eyes and mewl around his thumb, lazily sucking at it as if he’d pushed his cock between your lips.

Having something of his in your mouth makes your post-come delirium even worse.

The position makes you hazy, too – spread thighs and sensitive pussy brushing against the rug – and you’re just about to ask if you can blow him before he pulls his fingers away and clasps your jaw and throat in his huge hand.

Your eyes immediately roll back. Cunt clenches, desperate for him inside of you again, and when you blink up at him, your husband's face is a picture of love and possession.

“Mine,” he states, in his heavy, smoke-laden voice.

You lick your lips and taste the remnants of his come on your tongue. “Yes sir,” you whisper.

masterlist.

please reblog or comment i'll kiss u.

#john price #john price smut #john price x reader #captain john price #cod #call of duty #john price x you #captain john price x reader #cod mw2

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iliektehhaxs · 4 months

Text

Task Force 141: Teaching You How to Ride

Pairing: Task Force 141/Reader

18+, MDNI

❥ Price

He’s slow about his lesson, making sure to tease you until you’re begging for it. He wants you eager, so needy that when you finally sit on his cock it slides in without a hitch, your wetness smeared across every inch of him.

Slow and gentle, Price knows how eager you are from how fast you grind into his bulge, so desperate to get off your little hips are already stuttering before you can actually ride him.

“Relax darling,” he says, a heavy hand at your waist. Slowly but surely, he guides you still, chuckling at the whine that leaves your lips.

“Can’t have you coming when you haven’t even had my cock, can we?”

He coos at you in that gravel-like voice of his, stroking your hair as his opposite hand makes quick work of his boxers. His grin stretches further when he sees how your eyes are drawn to his cock, standing at attention.

“See that doll? All for you,” he grins, pulling you closer.

He fists his length, dragging it between your labia, amused at how easily it glides in. Your legs shake when it catches on your sensitive clit, fingers digging into the bare skin of his shoulders.

You beg him for more, getting off to the tantalizing drag of it, so close and yet so far. The head of it, nice and pink, kisses at your entrance and you swear you nearly cry.

Satisfied with your depravity, he puts your hands on his shoulders and leers at you.

“Go ahead doll, take what’s yours.”

❥ Gaz

He takes his time with you, methodical in his approach. Comfort is his main goal, making sure you feel safe and secure above all else.

“Right there doll, that’s it…”

His voice trails off, focused solely on your comfort. Your movements are shaky, not quite certain what you should be doing, but Gaz is a wonderful teacher.

His hands keep you steady—up, down, you bounce on his lap, grinding yourself slowly. He guides you until you find that perfect rhythm that makes your brain go a little foggy.

“Just like that, you’re a natural,” he says, praising you with every rise and fall of your hips. You know he means it too, his eyes are practically glued to where his cock disappears inside your sopping cunt, sighing in bliss each time you throb against him.

God, he can’t get enough of you.

“Feels good,” you mumble, starting to pick up rhythm. Gaz’s smile widens in response.

“Yeah? You feel fucking heavenly babe.”

❥ Soap

Johnny’s always excited to fuck you, and this is no different. He makes certain you’re comfortable, but there’s a tension that lingers in the air, as if his self-control could snap at any second.

Praise drips from his lips like a leaky faucet, unable to stop if he tried. You’re just so pretty, practically divine, and the way you look with his cock pressed deep into your pussy…

“Hells fucking bells, yer killin’ me…”

You’re equally as wrecked and you haven’t even gotten to move—just the feeling of Johnny’s cock stretching you out makes your legs quake, holding onto the headboard for balance.

“I can’t do this,” you whine in frustration. “Too much baby, I can’t—“

“Course ye can bon, know ye can,” he gasps. “Look how ye take me, pussy’s made for me ain’t it?”

Johnny’s hands grip into your backside, rocking you forward, slowly building up that familiar wave of heat that makes you bite your lip and groan.

God, the restraint it takes him to not fuck up into you with no remorse. He has to keep reminding himself this is your first time, but damn if you don’t look like a fucking natural riding him.

The wet slap of your hips meeting is proof of that, moving faster when Johnny’s hand squeezes your ass appreciatively.

“Keep it up, and I’ll give ye a reward for yer troubles.”

❥ Ghost

Nothing’s very gentle about Ghost, so when it comes to your lesson he’s a bit more…rough in his approach. Don’t expect him to go easy just because it’s your first time.

His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, the sheer fullness of it making it almost hard to breathe.

Ghost finds it adorable.

“Simon, too big,” you cry, nails digging into his arms. His deep laughter is your only warning before he pushes you further onto his cock, the wet squelch of your pussy like music to his ears.

“I know darling, I know,” he rasps, still keeping your hips flush to his. “But how else you gonna learn? Just gotta get used to it.”

His words seem comforting, but his tone is mean, mocking. Beneath his mask you’re certain he’s smirking at how wrecked you look.

“Besides, look at that,” he says, bringing your hand to your stomach. Your eyes widen in surprise at the tiny bump you feel.

“Feel that? That’s all of me,” he hums, enjoying the way your cunt pulses at the revelation.

You can’t deny how fucking stuffed you feel. You’ve never felt so full, not used to the sensation before Ghost reminds you why you’re here with a heavy hand.

“Not your fault you’ve got such a tight cunt,” he says, bringing you back up just to drop you further onto his length. He watches you shake with interest, enjoying the way your mouth falls into a “o” as he uses you for his own pleasure.

“Just means we’ve gotta train it into the shape of my cock.”

credits to @cafekitsune for the headers!

#call of duty #call of duty smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #kyle gaz smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap smut #robo writes

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cherryredstars · 4 months

Text

I'm not done with my break, but....

Imagine Miguel or Price forcing you to take just the tip.

NSFW, 18+, Penetrative Sex with afab!reader:)))

His reading glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, his brows furrowed in concentration as both of his thumbs spread the sticky lips of your pussy apart. They give easily, showing him the wet mess between your thighs as you whine and squirm in embarrassment. It makes him chuckle. You're the one who begged him to stop working and pay attention to you. What's the point of being embarrassed now that he's playing with you? Silly little thing you are.

The cold air against you makes you jolt your hips, bucking them closer to him. He has this dreamy, hungry look in his eyes as he examines your pretty hole. A tiny little thing that clenches around nothing and cries tears of arousal. Sweet thing really was crying f'my attention, huh? He whispers down at you. S'mean of me to keep you waiting, wasn’t it?

The embarrassed nod of agreement you give him is the cutest little thing he's ever seen. He coos down at you, and you gasp when the cold frames of his glasses bump your clit as he gives an apologetic kiss to your hole. No more crying, m'here to make it all better, he reassures when he leans back into his former position. He moves his hips forward, groaning when his heavy tip slaps against the wet paradise between your legs. He rubs it against your center, quickly getting drunk on the thick, wet noise that the movement creates.

The underside of his tip, and then some, becomes glossy from the juice you keep spilling for him. It makes his own slit dribble with precum, and he looks up at you. The sweetest pout covers your face, and you sniffle once your eyes meet his. Your voice is so whiny when you ask him to stop teasing, that you need him inside you right at this very moment. His cute baby, so greedy and spoiled because of him. His sweet baby that he can't refuse, but always knows how to teach a lesson to.

His thumbs holding you open gives him a clear view of how his mushroom tip enters your waiting hole with a pop. The creamy noise of his head brushing against your walls sound divine, dragging a groan from his lips. You expect him to push further in, but instead he pulls out to the point where the two of you are barely connected. What are you-? you ask, only to be interrupted by your own mewl as he pushes his tip back inside of you. The smile he gives you is devilish, shaking his head the slightest bit as he continues the slow fucking of his tip. M'teaching you that it's rude to interrupt people when they're working.

You cry out in both pleasure and despair, trying to move your hips so you can sink further onto him. He sees through you instantly, tutting disapprovingly. His hands pull away from your cunt, a large hand pushing on your lower stomach to halt your movements while the other wraps around your thigh and holds it in place. The muscles of his arm flex around your thigh, and he moans out when he feels you clench around him from the display of power. You're forced to take what he gives, whimpering as he feeds your desperate hole his tip.

The warmth and wetness of your walls drives him mad, his eyes half-lidded as they watch. The stimulation is insane, especially when you clench around him in a sorry attempt to convince him to give you more. He doesn't, but he decides to be nice and extend his thumb down, flicking at the neglected bud between your legs. You sequel the moment he starts playing with it, and he curses as he feels his orgasm building. He swipes hard and quick at your button, trying to get you close before he finishes. When your leg in his grip begins to tense, he knows he's got you right where he wants you.

You cry out when he pulls his tip out. Usually, he would hate having his cum go to waste, but he can handle it just this once. His thumb presses into your clit, but he stops playing with it as he jerks himself off. With a few rough pumps, his thick cum splatters against your cunt. It paints your skin a beautiful milky white, and he wishes he had his phone on him to take a picture. For now, he's content to watch his cum slowly drip down to cover your entire cunt. His eyes sharpen as he watches the way his seed follows every dip and shape of your pussy, loving the lazy path it makes. But he's fucked the moment it reaches your aching hole.

Your little hole can't help but clench and throb, trying desperately to coax some of his cum inside of you. So fucking greedy. He has to grit his teeth, the hand on your leg tightening as he realigns his cock. You squel again when he pushes his tip, and cum, through your hole. Can't let it go to waste.

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agendabymooner · 7 months

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SOMETHING JEALOUS !!! DANIEL R. X FEM!READER feat. lando norris (18+)

summary: jealous danny = generous danny. (part two-ish to something watchful)

content warning: use of explicit language, smut under the cut (minors dni!), not proofread, dubcon, pwp, voyeurism (danny makes lando watch, consensual) + masturbation (m), filthy filthy content, dom!daniel x sub!reader (and dom!lando), based on a request from my inbox

note: the max verstappen smut reached 1,000+ notes 😗 enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

lando furrowed his brows at the sight of her, watching as she pouted. her gaze was going to burn a hole into the booth table, lando thought as he looked around the headache inducing and strobe light flickering room. where the fuck was her boyfriend, daniel?

“he’s with some chick over there,” the british man must’ve spoken aloud because of how she answered the question without any amusement in her tone. she gestured at the bar area, where lando found daniel ricciardo chatting up with some lady with his typical grin.

what the fuck was danny doing making someone laugh that wasn’t his girlfriend?

“fucking beats me, lando,” she huffed out.

“shit did i say that out loud?” lando asked as she nodded with a begrudging expression. “never mind that— why are you pouting and sulking, girl?”

“it happens whenever your boyfriend would come chatting with people that aren’t you,” she said grimly.

“cheer up,” lando grinned, slinging his arm around her. in a drunken haze, he hadn’t minded his actions but if he was sober he knew how poor this would be for his friendship with daniel.

daniel was possessive. everyone knew that.

every driver in the grid knew that no matter how much they'd drooled over his girlfriend. everyone’s mothers knew not to get too close whenever she was around.

lando was playing with fire but he couldn’t help it; his buzzed self wanted to comfort his friend— his friend’s girlfriend.

and daniel had immediately seen it. the aussie’s sight darkened when he found his girlfriend laughing with lando while they chatted amongst themselves.

she seemed to be having fun, which was good for certain reasons but daniel only wished he could cut lando’s arms off as he watched the british man get a little too comfortable and close to her.

it was almost as if the woman that daniel was chatting with had disappeared. his gaze burned holes through his girlfriend’s demeanour and figure as he tried to contain his frustration and jealousy.

and by the time she looked at him, she knew that she was done for. that the lust and jealousy in daniel ricciardo’s eyes would come with a price.

what she didn’t expect, however, was that the price would come along with a company in a form of a british driver. the one that slung his arm over her shoulder. lando.

the pout on her face, alongside the smudge of her mascara, was what daniel paused to see for a brief moment.

his jealousy was the result of his girlfriend’s unintentional close contact with lando norris, and he could admit that. and the messy features of her face was a result of daniel’s jealousy— admiring her silently as she whined about his cock.

when he circled around her and reached behind her, he tutted and murmured, “so wet for me, sweetheart.”

she laid flat on her stomach, her cheeks spreading thanks to daniel’s observant hands before he let go and smacked her right cheek. she moaned pitifully, eyes closing as her cunt throbbed around nothing. “danny, please…”

“nuh uh, don’t ‘danny please’ me now, doll,” daniel grinned darkly. “you have to tell me what you wan’, pretty girl. you can’ whine and expect me to give it to you.”

“i- ah,” she cried out as she felt a sharp pain from her roots, being pulled up by him as she whimpered, “wan’ you to fuck me, danny. wanna feel full.”

“yeah? you want my cock?”

“hm- mhm~” she nodded eagerly, his hand restraining her movement.

“d’ya want to be fucked full?” he asked again, making her nod. his maniacal smile faltered for a brief moment as he pointed her head towards in front of them. “by who? me or him?”

“open your eyes, pretty girl. tell me who’d you want to fuck you,” and she did, her glistening eyes sharing contacts with lando’s lust blown pupils as he sat on the chair across the bed, his cock hardening as he continued rubbing the tip of it.

this was filthy, the three of them could admit— but they could also admit that they were getting immense pleasure from this.

if daniel was going to make someone watch them as they fuck, she might as well make him jealous all the time. it was just a surprise that, of all the people who would be up for this, lando would be the one to watch and get pleasure out of his best friend’s filthy fantasy.

she stammered, “y- you, danny- i want you to fuck me- hah~ fuck! yes, like that!”

lando incoherently sighed at the sight of her being filled to the brim by daniel’s cock, watching her tits bounce while daniel fucked her roughly. lando continued to stroke his length as he watched the couple.

“fuck, fuck- shit~” she cursed, drool falling down her lips as she sucked on daniel’s fingers to keep herself silent.

“tell ‘im how you feel, baby,” daniel pulled his fingers away from her mouth and smacked her ass.

“so good,” she moaned.

“that’s it, baby?”

“‘m so full and it’s so good, lan,” she babbled coherently. “‘is cock is so good, fuuuuuck~”

“yeah? is that right, girl?” lando taunted, stroking his cock as she cried in pleasure, tears falling down her eyes as daniel continued to spear her insides with his cock. “gettin’ too dumb now, princess? is it because it’s so good?”

she nodded eagerly as sounds of hips snapping echoed around the room, her cunt making squelching noises as daniel fucked her from behind.

“answer him, doll,” daniel demanded firmly. “use your words or ‘m not gonna fuck you.”

“yes!” she managed to get it out of her mouth as she cried and babbled, “fills me so good, hah— and he- fuck! shit, danny please want more!”

“had i known that you were into this kind of bullshit, i would've made you jealous way before this,” lando teased.

“don’t push your fucking luck,” daniel growled lowly. “be grateful we even let you watch. stop talking and watch her fall apart— you’re gonna miss the good part.”

#formula one smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo imagine #formula one imagine #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #lando norris #formula 1 smut #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 #daniel ricciardo #formula one #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut

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jjungxkook · 7 months

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blackout (halloween drabble) | jjk

⇥ pairing: roommate!jungkook x reader

⇥ genre: est rel, roommate and college au, fluff, crack, smut

⇥ rating: 18+

⇥ warnings: really just the tiniest hint of angst, but otherwise just crack and fluff I think, spooky szn, he's the Joker and she's Harley Quinn, lame college party, the gang is there, forest stuff, reader is a bit sad and disappointed in jk but he redeems himself!, kissing, sexy times, unprotected sex, choking, spanking, jerking off, fingering, sex in a janitor's closet haha, ass love, and yeah!!

⇥ wc: 5.4k!

⇥ author’s notes: happy early halloween! I will be busy next week, so I thought I could post this one already. also, since it's been one! damn!! year!!! since I dropped anything at all (sry!!). I promise Encore is on its way, so enjoy this in the meantime. very unedited and I started it just yesterday, so pls no hate haha okay that's it!! love you!!!

⇥ summary: Jungkook and you seek a carefree and calm Halloween this year, until it turns into this… nightmare.

–

Jungkook’s make up is smudged beyond repair… And you strongly guess you aren’t faring any better.

Your costumes are basic to their core. In the past hour alone, you’ve seen half a dozen of you. Jungkook rubs at the eyeshadow above the apple of his cheek, smearing the black some more.

He looks like the Joker at the end of his mental capacity. A worse mess than DC’s character already is. Only, Jungkook is still rocking the look – one damn kink of yours if you had a specific one. It’s the loosened tie… the purple coat–

You feel at home in your own role. Sporting the peroxide blonde hair, tied in two tails, one ending in a faded blue, and the other in a dim pink. You purchased colored hair sprays just for today, but can’t wait to wash the chemicals out of your hair.

Jungkook ruined one of the pigtails approximately an hour ago, and it hasn’t recovered since then, no matter how hard you tried to fix it. In truth, you didn’t mind the tugging at that moment anyway.

How could you? Not with the endorphins pumping through you at lightspeed, enhanced by the darkness around you at that stupid college party.

The student representatives organized this year’s big fete, though they must have forgotten to add the fun factor to it. Because the party was lame: the bar was filled with students from various departments, but most of them remained either sober or wound up broke.

Because the drinks were painfully expensive. The numbers on your bills spooked through your mind when you looked at the price, further frustrated when you realized that they weren’t selling much more than dry, small pizza and flavorless toast.

Once again, for an outrageous price.

Halfway through, the two of you snuck to a bathroom, relying on each other’s company alone. But the toilet cabinets were either taken or unspeakably disgusting – so in the rush, you settled for the pitch dark janitor’s closet instead.

You could barely see his silhouette in there, half sober, but not quite acting like it. Intoxicated by how he suckled on your neck, more a vampire than the Joker. Or by how he probably bruised your thighs, your shorts and tights down to your knees, much like his green pants.

You remember the whispers in the dark. The quiet “Wanna pound you into the mattress” and the “We should really go home.” Accompanied by the way he rubbed his cock against your stomach, body inches from you as his fingers dug into your pussy.

But you wouldn’t make it home yet, because his movements were too rapid to stop. The tears pricking your eyes too prominent. The hand around your neck wouldn’t stop pressing in, and you were firmly fixated on jerking him off to the end.

There was no way you were going to go home yet.

When he kissed you, you could taste both your lipsticks on your tongues. And then, cheek against the wall, ass out as he slammed his thick cock into your tight space, you tasted all the spice and sweetness he could offer.

God, a fucking man starved.

You still feel how his thighs held yours together, and your ass cheeks still burn from the palm and nails scratching, slapping, squeezing the flesh…

You tried your best to fix your make up afterwards, but you looked like modern art in the worst way, eyeliner and mascara dry on your face. The Joker’s cheek scars reach to his ears now. And as you look at him now, you still shiver.

His sweat-soaked mane hasn’t fully dried yet, a bit longer than weeks ago. Gives him that wet-hair look you usually enjoy after his showers. And behind the collar of his dress shirt, you still catch a glimpse of the lipstick print he wanted before you went out.

“Here,” he’d said, pointing to his thick, bare neck, adorned by a vein, “I’ll even open a button of my shirt just for this.”

And you were absolutely ready to mark your territory – it seemed he was just as enthusiastic about it. That is, before you forgot and then rectified your mistake in that bar bathroom. He can flex it now after all…

Anyway. Where were you again?

Right. The purple coat.

There’s something incredibly insane about how he’s draped it over his shoulder, both hands in the pockets of his pants. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, his arms veiny and strong. A full lower lip is light red now; your make out session made the bright red fade.

And the goddamn black around his eyes… he could throw the mildest statement at you, and you’d probably still be intimidated.

Could almost distract you from why you refused to give that neck kiss in the first place. Or why you were veiling your true mood.

“What are we gonna do now?” Jungkook asks, nudging your elbow.

“What do you mean? You’re not tired?”

But you understand the idiocy of your question the moment it tumbles out – you’re asking the wrong man. This guy, you have well noticed, does not sleep until late in the night. And a healthy sleep schedule becomes even more of a foreign concept on holidays.

So you’re not surprised when he blows a raspberry and almost mockingly responds, “It’s not even midnight.”

“That’s late, Jungkook,” you still try.

“Not on Halloween.” Yeah. Just what you thought. “Besides, we need to wait for the witching hour. Wanna see the ghosts come out and whatnot.”

You laugh, the scolding hidden behind the smile. “Kook…”

“We could play Uno again!” He suggests, but you instantly scrunch up your nose. Most of the time, he wins – it’s probably why he enjoys it so much. But his next idea is worse. “Or Until Dawn.”

“No way,” you shoot. “You know what’s gonna happen, right?”

Judging the conniving smirk, more daunting with the eerie make up on, you guess he knows very well. He must remember last Halloween as well as you do.

Back when you let him convince you into watching Silent Hill with him, you were already at the edge, but – the sudden knocks at your door and impatient ringing of your bell didn’t help.

You jumped in place, accidentally kicking his shin and nearly knocking over the popcorn. You shed an immediate tear, convinced your heart was going to give out. Jungkook, between the cries of ache, was chuckling, and soon holding your head to his heart.

The cursing against his chest is cemented in your mind; you remember that he turned the movie off for you and switched to something tamer on Disney+.

“We’re together now, Pumpkin,” he tries to argue. “I’ll kiss your fears away.”

You’ll admit, you like the tone of it. It hasn’t been very long, so any term concerning your togetherness covers your skin in chills. And considering how it’s Halloween, the nickname gains just a bit more warmth, too.

But you stay resolute, dodging his constant nudging as you repeat, “No way!”

Your words stop Jungkook in his tracks. The laugh disappears and even his eyes change. Maybe you came off too strong, because behind the mask of the Joker, he looks insecure and taken aback.

“Are you… Okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer.

You pull down the crop top under your open jacket, clearing your throat when the movement forces his eyes to your chest, right where the shirt stretches over your tits. Folding your arms in front of your torso, you raise your chin in the confidence that’s barely there.

You lie, “Yes. Why?”

“You’re acting like you were before we left. Then you were okay at the party.” He points into a random direction, presumably the one you came from. You don’t know how many turns you took since then, but you’re near the woods now. “Now you’re not anymore again.”

“I’m fine!”

Oops. Too strong again. Maybe the built up frustration and disappointment aren’t gone after all. You thought the evening might change something – apparently not.

Once again, he asks, “Are you sure?”

You stay silent. Look away, haphazardly across the street. The street lamps illuminate the dark path, covered in leaves, surrounded by trees. Has a real Halloween feel to it.

You watch ghosts stroll past you. Some of the students on campus still carry a young, tender spirit, cutting holes in thin blankets to drape them over their bodies. It makes you smile.

But then you look back at Jungkook and immediately wish you had a cloth hiding your true emotions, too. Because when his eyes pierce those dejected holes into your body, you finally cave in.

“You… you know that I was top of my class, right?” You avert your stare, but then decide to focus on his chin instead. “Mr Kim liked my paper so much that he even offered that I join his research? And he’s like, very cherished in the Sociology community?”

Aside from the wind, nature and the world go quiet for a second, just when you do, but then you say, “So it’s a huge opportuni–”

“I know… You told me.”

Oh. So he remembers.

“So I told you,” your voice is quieter now, “and you just… didn’t seem to care? You haven’t spoken about it or asked even once. Not even what the research is on.”

Like a parrot, he repeats, “I know. I… I got busy with my own exams and…”

He stops midway and you wait. Maybe there’s more to come… Or maybe not. He doesn’t budge. You feel your heart drop… You assumed he had forgotten or that you might’ve hallucinated telling him about it.

But the fact that he remembers, yet doesn’t have it in him to care hurts.

You swallow hard and then sigh, unable to say much more than you already have. He, yet again, purls, “I’m sorry.”

How shitty.

You’ve always helped him with his assignment, each time he needed any aid. He reciprocated it, no doubt, but. Now that you think about it, he distanced himself the moment you got this news and forwarded it to him.

You feel horrible. If you physically could, if you weren’t frozen in place, you’d pour out your heart to him. But all you know is that your mood has dropped to the Earth’s core, your mouth barely open when–

A rough tug pulls you away from Jungkook’s body. You stumble, almost tripping over your own feet, and yelp. There’s no way to still catch your bag mid-air, because whatever culprit snatched it off your shoulder, is already running away.

And into the dense forest. Fuck.

You use all your throat’s might to scream your lungs out, screeching at the perpetrator, “What the fuck!!”

“Hey!” Jungkook yells in kind, following right behind you the moment you start to sprint.

The asphalt is easier to tackle than the forest, though. The ground is soft, still a little damp from the rain of the last days. And the white-black-red Harley Quinn boots with their thick heels do not help.

You chase the figure – he’s tall, a bit too fast for you. Wearing a mask that you’re sure was… green?

You swear and pant when he picks up on pace, and throw more insults into his direction when he takes a sharp, sudden right. Jungkook jogs past you when you look over your shoulder for him, instructing quickly, “I’ll trap him from the left!”

And then, he’s gone. No. What?

“No, I– you can’t leave me alone!” Nothing comes back. Shit, your boyfriend wants you dead. “Fuck.”

With a shake of your head and a deep inhale of a breath, you move. Perhaps you’re too late, because by now, you don’t hear any steps anymore. You don’t know how far behind that thief left you, but as you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere, you halt.

You can’t see anyone anymore. Not the guy. Not Jungkook.

And it’s so uncannily quiet. Dark. The leaves rustle, but only when the breeze blows through them. You search the spot, but there’s truly nobody and nothing; not even a goddamn squirrel.

You call for Jungkook, but don’t receive an answer back.

Where did he go? Did he catch the jerk? It must’ve been a Shrek mask. Of all fucking things. And why do they always run into a forest anyway?

No matter. At least you’ll be able to describe him to the police.

You suck in a breath, leaning down, hands over your knees. Out of air, you groan as your lungs burn. But then you get up, swallowing and sniffling, scared as you whisper to yourself, “The phone…”

You fish it out of your shorts – Hallelujah to whoever created this costume, because they’re a whole lot better than the pocketless jeans in your closet. If you’d put the device in your bag, you’d be screwed properly.

Activating the flashlight, you turn in a slow circle. In the silence, only broken by grasshoppers and other chirping animals, you hear your heart pounding in your ears. A shaking hand holds your phone as you look around.

And right when you’re already through the 360 turn–

Fingers wrap around the hand clutching the phone, definitely not yours. There’s a call of your name, but you barely take the voice in, flinching and screaming in place. Has your voice ever sounded this high pitched?

Ready to throw your phone at him and roundhouse kick the stranger, you lift a leg, but he immediately grabs your wrist in a familiar gesture. Turns the light to his face, squinting at its intensity, and eventually, you realize that…

“What the fuck are you doing?” You spit.

“I was looking for you!” Jungkook answers, lowering the phone. “I didn’t find him.”

“Yeah, I didn’t either! But fuck, why…” You still can’t breathe properly. A hand moves to your chest. “Why did you scare me so much, I–”

Your limbs are trembling, knees attempting to force you down to the ground. But you hold yourself steady, anger growing bloody red inside you. It bubbles and simmers, and when he doesn’t respond, you almost snarl.

You push at his chest, eyes damp. You want to throw more shit at him, even though he’s not at fault – and once you realize, you calm down just a little. The forest is still around you, and you’re still not out of it by far.

Yet, you feel at ease. Because he’s here. Because he’s standing there, in the middle of the night, at fucking Halloween where you could run into any insane axe murderer.

But when you understand where the comfort is coming from, your heart slows down, still beating in your stomach, but at a more normal pace now.

“Fuck,” you whisper once again, and then stumble forward and into his arms.

He cradles you with the fragility of a glass doll. But the squeezes he provides offer warmth your chilled soul craves on this autumn night. Hushed, you hear him speak, “Baby, I…”

His words drip with hesitation and… guilt even. Wrong timing; you can’t dwell on the uncertainty now. Still sniffling, quivering, you press against his chest again. Softer this time, yet unyielding, you demand, “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

“No–”

“Honestly, I should’ve just… Congratulated you.”

Wrong timing indeed. He’s agonizing over something that you aren’t bothered with. Not right now, at least. But you heard it so clearly in the timbre of his voice – that he didn’t mean the jump scare. You let him continue.

“I worked so hard on my stuff, too, and then got jealous. Which is absolutely not a good boyfriend treat to have.”

“Kook–”

There’s turmoil in his words. Ugh, what’s going on?

“I’m genuinely thrilled for you. And I–”

There’s an entire conversation to have, you’re sure. But the timing. The fucking timing!

He wants to unveil more, but then something happens. A flicker in your peripheral vision alerts you of a movement, and when you turn your head, you see the same mysterious figure lurking in the shadows.

God, he’s insane. Your guts twist.

Was he eavesdropping all along, or was he simply hiding, trying to remain invisible, inexplicably unwilling to flee? Why did he not run before? This is odd. So chillingly odd.

Or maybe he was still nearby and trying not to make a sound…

You don’t know. And time is not a luxury you can’t afford for pondering such enigmas right now.

New adrenaline surges through you, different this time. The fear is clear, but the guy seems pathetic to a certain level – and if he’s so keen on roaming around, you’ll make sure he stays right in your proximity.

So you listen to the hammering of your heart, and without a second thought, you dash towards the stranger who appears equally startled and disoriented. You feel like a charging bull, closing the distance at an astonishing pace.

That’s what they probably mean when they speak about mothers being able to lift cars for their kids, because you feel invincible. Your shoes may not be designed for such a pursuit, and you’re certainly not as hardcore as Harley Quinn, but they lose against your determination.

The trees blur around you as you relentlessly chase the intruder, only clearing in your vision when you finally catch up with him. Jungkook might be behind you, but you choose not to look behind you this time.

Instead, you yell a battle cry, growling through your teeth, “Don’t you fucking–”

But that’s all before you tackle him to the ground. You expect a fight, expect his slim limbs to fling around, but he barely moves. He lets you push him onto the fallen leaves, and the only glimpse of any sound by him that you catch is a weird voice crack.

“Fu–” Is all you notice, but you can’t analyze the voice before Jungkook is helping you up again.

You protest, but still get to your feet, watching Jungkook pull the man up harshly. He says to you, “You caught him.”

“Guess so.”

You take another breath, jaw clenched when you move to the stumbling thief and attempt to take the mask off. Shrek, as you said. You can’t quite say whether that night is terrifying or absurd. Probably both.

But the guy fights your try, suddenly mute again, but not resisting when Jungkook pulls at his arm and starts leading him somewhere. What?

“Where are you going?” You ask, confusion sitting in the valley between your eyebrows. “Let’s go back and call the police, Jungkook.”

“There’s gotta be an opening. Keep going, I just need light to see his face.”

“I have a phone. Jungkook, sto–”

Seems like a very risky moment to ignore you, but Jungkook moves forward with determination. But it’s strange how he isn’t looking around. Never searching his surroundings, as if he already has a certain target in mind.

Now, you’ll admit that his sense of direction is unerring on any other day, too, but this is…

“I swear, you’re gonna kill us both,” you hiss, reflexively lowering your voice in the darkness. The masked mugger is grunting too much to hear you anyway, but you guess that affects Jungkook’s senses, too.

He just won’t stop. At least, until you reach a tiny clearing.

You don’t know how deep in the forest you are, because you can’t see the moon from here. The stars are the mere source of light here, albeit barely enough to illuminate the other bodies standing on the opposite side of the dimly lit space.

Wait. More people? Here?

What the hell.

Their faces, obscured by shadows, are unmoving. You ready yourself for an apology – maybe you interrupted some weird get-together. A shady ritual executed by some secret college club.

But as you strain to discern their features, a gradual realization dawns upon you. One of them steps forward, his features partially hidden, and one or two other familiar friends from your classes occupy the periphery.

It’s Jin. Also Jimin – a guy you and Jungkook met during one of your study sessions. Taehyung introduced him to your group. And the pursuit takes on an even more bewildering turn when you look at Jungkook and see that he’s no longer clutching the robber.

The man is standing there in silence, massaging the back of his head. Seemingly unperturbed. Perplexed and still out of breath, you utter, “What in the world?”

You shake your head, eyes deeply furrowed. You close the distance between you and the confusing figure, snatch your bag from him and finally shed the mask that conceals his identity.

And then, you see it. The unexpected face behind the bizarre charade.

“Taehyung?” You exclaim.

Jungkook, having caught his breath faster than you, mimics your incredulous tone, “Taehyung, what the hell?”

Oh. So he’s just as confused. The man in question glances over to his friend, his expression one of sheer frustration as he grumbles another very puzzling statement.

“Jeon, I will kill you.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters back.

Or… not? Huh?

You’re speechless. Out of movements and words, you keep your feet planted on your spot, blinking as you wait for someone to explain. But they’re not even looking at you, so you seek clear clarification.

“What’s going on here?” You ask.

Jungkook’s half-smile agitates you more than it should. Why the heck is he smiling?! But you breathe in through the nose, hoping for the forest’s scent to calm your nerves.

“Well,” he admits, “I guess I owe him one. ‘Cuz you were not supposed to tackle him.”

“Right!” Taehyung concurs.

“And you were not supposed to disappear!” Jungkook chimes in, pointing an accusatory finger at his friend. His voice is tinged with reproach. “You…”

“Guys,” you interject. What the fuck.

Jungkook sighs, full attention on you. You try your hardest to not look at the creepy crowd to your left, friends and acquaintances standing there as if they’re about to sacrifice you to a demon.

“He was supposed to lead you here, but somehow we didn’t manage to pull it through,” Jungkook says.

His words leave you pondering. You have not the darndest clue about what’s going on. So you ask, “We?”

“Your…” The assembled group draws near, a few of your friends holding various items. “Your paper.”

Huh…

They’re carrying indiscernible things. And a pie, and…

“Of course I remembered your paper, baby,” Jungkook declares.

Oh, wait. Is that what you think it is? Because if it is, then your instincts were entirely wrong today. Or the entire time since you received the news. Maybe you were just so out of your mind because of the general Halloween atmosphere?

What were you expecting… An axe murderer for real? Dammit…

No. It was much more obvious, yet impossible to figure out. This man. This man!

A wave of relief washes over you as you process his words. You think that now, you even understand what they’re all holding. Or what it’s for…

“So you weren’t…” You start.

You drift off, watching Jungkook shake his head. His response is heartfelt, his love and pride evident. He looks at you with infinite sweetness; but a lot of guilt, too.

“Jealous?” He finishes. “I’d be crazy to be. You’re part of me.”

His blinking is soft and the tongue licking his red lips shiny in the extremely faint starlight. You know he isn’t done yet, so you wait… Focus on the tingle on your skin.

“You are part of me,” he says again, “so I’ll celebrate any achievement of yours like it’s mine. And this was… is a huge fucking thing to happen for you.”

You feel your head tilt and the muscles in your face relax. Your lips move to a smile, parted to give way to the longest sigh known to humankind. But if you indulged in the cheesy interaction now, your friends would remind you of it every game night.

Which is why you get yourself together, postponing the screeching and second tackling to later when you’re alone again. You shake off some of the weakness he causes every day, and give into the urge to nudge teasingly.

“You’re such a jerk for scaring me like that.”

A playful grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, as typical as can be. “I needed to make it Halloween-themed, Pumpkin. I’m sorry, but you know I had to.”

Your initial scolding turns into a loving retort, “I hate you.”

But the banter is short-lived as you lose against the surge of emotions, your hand moving to push him lightly once again before immediately lifting to his collar. You capture it, pulling him close to you until his wide eyes close and your lips collide.

In the background, you hear an instant chorus of “Aww”s, but grunts, too. Among the cooing, you hear a mumbled speech about how you need to get a room, but you only react with a smile against his mouth. You kiss him deeper, tongues gently intermingling.

And just when the hand holding the back of your head slips to your lower back, pressing you into him, the shiver becomes unbearable. Emotions shoot through your body and down between your legs – so you stop.

For a couple seconds longer, you look at whatever you can see from his eyes in the dark, flashing a smile. He rounds his lips and releases air through them, a temptingly silent way to let you know that you affected him.

You ignore it for your mentality’s sake, moving away from him to look at your friends. You cough and gesture to the objects in their hands, asking, “What’s all this about?”

If you could see them, you’d probably see a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. Jin at least sounds like it as he beckons you closer with a nod, ready to reveal whatever they’ve orchestrated for you.

You already expected the answer to your question, but the wrapping confirms your assumption. Gifts. Quite a few of them, bigger and smaller. As you move from one to the other, they announce the objects before you’re able to rip the paper off.

A friend gifts you a Swarovski Crystalline pen for your “Super fancy notes as you do your super fancy research.” Reflects their support for your scholarly pursuits, you guess.

Jimin surprises you with an exclusive album by your favourite group. Then, a little plushie to destress whenever you need, along with a college survival guide and “Sociology for Dummies” – all by Jin. Of course.

And lastly, a Lord of the Rings Lego set that you’ve desired for super long, a group effort. It’s a labor of love, for sure. A collective endeavor by friends who united to make your dreams come true – but honestly, who scared you to death, too.

You don’t know how you make it out of the forest again, still reprimanding Taehyung and Jungkook on your way out. Granted, you did get lost as a group once, and then found your beloved streetlamps again ten minutes later.

The treasures secured in a bag, Jungkook places them on your couch with a long and deep sigh once you arrive home, calming down from today’s hours. The night seemed endless. Wouldn’t finish – and you’re exhausted beyond measure.

But even through your falling eyelids, you manage one more expressive glance, pure disbelief hiding in your gaze as you say, “I absolutely didn’t expect any of this.”

Jungkook is a true mirror to you. Equally worn out, he lets his head fall a little, one hand still in the pocket of his pants. He looks ridiculously attractive, fatigue or not. Curls of his longer hair hang in his eyes as he rubs them, the smile gentle despite the sinister make up.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he says, voice low and quiet. “To be honest, I kinda felt bad halfway through.”

Ah. Explains the guilty eyes and voice. The way he attempted to apologize and grew all shy and quiet before you threw Taehyung to the ground.

“Don’t. The plan almost worked, and my heartbeat is still intact.” You laugh, punching his arm lightly. “But… Don’t do shit like that again next year.”

“I can’t promise it. You know that.”

You roll your eyes, watching him try to walk away – and you might not have held him back and grasped the dress shirt at the elbow if…

Is that the window creaking?

You gasp, still more on the edge than you expected, and throw a peek over your shoulder. You moved a couple weeks ago – there’s no way your place is already making these sounds. Or maybe that’s the reason after all… You should get to renovating.

“Was that you, too?” You ask, leaning into him with a cocked eyebrow.

“It was not. How would I do that?” He promises. His words are accompanied by movements; he’s walking around the living room now, as if he’s looking for something. “I’m not a ghost. Just the Joker.”

“A sly one, though…”

You look to the window again as he crams around in the box under your table, and appropriate to the holiday, you detect a harmless raven, perched on the windowsill. The sight elicits a small chuckle – but you don’t hear a sound from Jungkook.

When you turn back to him, you understand why. He’s distracted, still crouching. Then he gets up with… An object in his hand. No, two. Not any you carried home just now, but much smaller, thinner. Paper?

Idly, he walks back to you, fingers adorned in tattooed letters holding two cards toward you. You look into his eyes, confused and seeking answers silently, but he only holds the objects closer to you, urging you to take them.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“Read, and you’ll know.”

And when you oblige, you understand. Maybe the little celebration on the clearing didn’t quite end there. Because the inscription on the cards reveals that he put more thought into this than you knew.

The tiny party and group effort Lego set weren’t his only tokens of affection. The weekend getaway, resting in your hands and awaiting you next week, must be tonight’s finale. A prelude to the impending wave of tedious work.

“As an escape. Even for just a moment,” Jungkook explains, reaching forward. His hand settles on your cheek and pulls your face up, meeting your eyes. “Just you and me.”

To bask in serenity and rejuvenation, is that it? Just you and him…

“Really?” You wonder, eyes knitted together, lips pouting. You’re drowning in fondness.

“I wanna give you all the relaxation you need, in any way. Big things ahead after that.”

“I’m… You didn’t ha–”

You only get this far, because his lips steal your breath and halt your speech midway. His hand cradles your face, the other arm slinging around your body. The grip holds you tight against him, the heels of your feet almost lifting off the floor.

The kiss won’t stop. Continues deeper. You’re careful to not crumple and crease the cards he gave you, but still wrap your arms around his neck, pushing harder into him. And the tongue… Fuck, this tongue…

When he moves back reluctantly to catch air, he’s panting; and your breath falls against his cheeks just as hot. Your lips are damp, craving more, and you draw closer, trying to feel all of him. The muscles, the embrace, the growing pleasure behind his pants and…

But he lets go, leaves you standing and dizzy. With a wink, he lightly pinches your cheek, thumb brushing against it and suggests, “I’ll head off to freshen up.”

But. No.

You’re not ready to let the moment slip away, no matter how tired you are. So you pull him back again, a playful twinkle in your eyes as you quietly utter a request.

“Don’t take it off just yet.” You say, seeing the way his eyes light up. He understands right away. “Clean up together?”

He smiles. Waits with his answer, busy gripping your wrist as gently as he can before he locks his fingers with yours. He starts pulling you into the direction of the bathroom at snail's pace, reaching to hold both your hands, walking backwards, and causes one last hour-long shiver for the night.

“I really do love every time we save up on water, you know?”

–

Let me know what you think!! Have a good Halloween, love you all and smooching you!!😘

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook oneshot #bts imagine #bts fic #jeongguk smut #jungkook

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blueywrites · 2 months

Text

u-haul 'cause I might let you move in it (1/2)

dom dealer!eddie x sub fem!reader Inspired by @2jihiir0's fanart 'make it quick... baby's sleeping'. leave them some love! read part two here.

2.5k

cw (both parts): 18+. smut, drug use (weed), situationship becoming something more (???), shame kink, praise & degradation, pet names, exhibitionism-adjacent, no y/n, no physical descriptors, eddie's still a fairly soft dom bc I'm just not hard like that 😭

an: this is just the start of the filth, y'all - most of it occurs in part two 😌 shout out to @munson-blurbs @hellfire--cult @word-wytch and @the-unforgivenn for their feral support and @fracturedarkness bc this wouldn't exist without her.

enjoy part one! 🩵

The afternoon sun hangs heavy in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow through the dusty blinds of the trailer. The air inside is thick with the scent of smoke and stale beer, a heady mixture that clings to the walls. It’s the kind of smell that seeps into your clothes, your hair, your skin. It should leave you feeling slightly suffocated, especially considering the oppressive humidity also clinging to every surface, but somehow, there's a measure of comfort in the acrid scent.

You’re sitting on the threadbare couch, the fabric worn with age creaking as you shift restlessly, trying to find a more comfortable position in the heat. The fabric scratches your soles as you prop your feet up, leaning against the couch arm, fanning the neck of your thin tank top to peel the dampness from your chest. Beneath the old coffee table, your flip-flops lay forgotten, abandoned on the threadbare carpet. A beer bottle sits nearby, sweating rings onto the surface of the table, a testament to the lazy haze of the afternoon.

On the other side of the couch, your dealer lounges against the cushions, his movements fluid and practiced as he rolls a joint with deft, inked fingers. You look over at Eddie as he watches the TV, his head lolled back against the couch, his eyes heavy-lidded, relaxed. He looks good. You can’t help but spend a long moment staring at him: the angles of his face, his big brown eyes and puffy lips, his long, shaggy curls that frame his high cheekbones. He’s pretty, and he’d look downright innocent if it wasn’t for the long nick of white scar tissue kissing the edge of his lip and the scruff darkening his cheeks and jaw. Your gaze dips lower over his tight black jeans, lingering where they meet his rust-colored tank. The shirt is caught up around his hip, revealing a strip of pale skin and a tattoo that you can just see the bottom of. You want to run your tongue over it, then keep mapping all his ink until your mouth has touched each bit of darkness on him.

This thing with Eddie started when you broke up with Trevor and lost your go-to source for getting high. When you’d asked around, a friend of a friend recommended Eddie Munson, saying he was the best you could come by in the area: decent product, reasonable prices, and not a total creep. The first couple times were quick transactions, and then you started hanging around because the girl who hooked you up also told you Eddie would likely offer to smoke you out if you did. He let you hang around because he didn't much care either way, and he didn't find you hard to look at. That led quickly to casual sex whenever you saw each other, usually when you'd come by a couple times a month to restock your supply. And the sex is great– better than the weed, and Eddie's weed is always high quality. He just has this ability to make you feel special in the moment without having any expectations about whatever-you-and-he-were as soon as you pull your panties back on, leaving you free to date whoever you wanted when you left his trailer.

It’s ecstasy to have all of his attention focused on you in those moments because, though Eddie looks like a mean bastard, he gets off on your pleasure. He's not one to make you feel used or neglected; he's a thorough lover. And he has a knack for straddling the perfect line between sweet and sour. He'd praise you then humiliate you in the next breath, and it drove you wild. Kept you coming back even though he never expressed interest in taking you out or doing anything with you other than just getting high, watching TV, and fucking you 'til you screamed.

And then, at some point, you find yourself declining guys' offers for dinner or drinks. You just don’t feel like going out anymore, because trying to find Mr. Right was getting exhausting— at least, that's what you tell yourself. And Eddie starts calling you sometimes to let you know he had a new strain he thought you'd like, some of Rick's fancy shit. Soon enough, you go from seeing him twice a month to twice a week, sometimes more. And slowly but surely, you begin to notice a change in yourself. You start staring at all his tattoos and wondering what the stories are behind them. Feeling an odd flutter when you flop down next to him and he'd sling his arm around your shoulder without a thought. Laying tangled in his musty bedsheets, and when he leaves to go to the bathroom, secretly burying your nose against his pillow because the smell of him has suddenly become... comforting.

Things are changing for you, and you really hope they are for him, too. 'Cause if not, it seems your traitorous heart has determined you'll be in for a world of hurt.

"Y'want some of this?" Eddie's voice cuts through the haze, drawing your attention away from the television. You glance over to see him holding up the joint, a lazy smirk playing at the corners of his lips. The glow of the joint illuminates his features, soft against the curve of his cheek.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your own lips as you shift closer to him. He pats his thigh, a silent invitation, and you don’t hesitate to straddle his lap, the heat of his body seeping through your pajama shorts. His jeans are rough against your tender inner thighs as you shift, grazing the hardening bulge pressing against his zipper; your stomach tightens with the first whispers of arousal as you feel it brush against you.

"Gimme a show then, kitten," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, making that arousal bloom fuller as you grow excited. It’s a playful taunt, a challenge, but beneath the teasing facade, you can sense something more—a hint of possessiveness, maybe even of longing. That could just be your wishful thinking, but nonetheless, your heart races at the prospect as you meet his gaze, accepting his challenge.

With a coy smile, you slip off the couch, settling on your knees and running your nails up his thighs on your way to his lap. You take your time unbuckling his belt, keeping your movements slow and unhurried, though you secretly throb as you begin to unwrap him. It’s crazy how quickly he turns you on— how all he has to do is smirk and pin you with a look, or murmur a few words in that low, husky tone, and you’re already wetting your panties for him.

Eddie waits just long enough for you to shimmy his jeans and boxers down to his knees, and then he catches you by the jaw with a broad, rough palm. You look up at him as he guides you back up with his light grip on your face. His eyes flick down to your mouth as he leans forward, curls swinging to kiss his jaw. You brighten, eager to feel his mouth on yours, wondering what kind of kiss he’ll reward you with— something slow and sweet, or wet and filthy. But he leaves just a peck on your lips before drawing back, tightening his hold on your jaw to keep you firmly in place when you instinctively go to chase him.

You fall immediately into a pout, slumping back on your heels as he breathes a chuckle at you. Eddie bends to lightly pat your cheek a few times in consolation before settling back into the cushions, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He must know the gesture would rile you up, and it does— you feel your disappointment churn in your belly, turning to petulance. In retaliation, you clamber up to your feet, abandoning your position kneeling before his boots. With narrowed eyes, you drop your shorts and panties together without ceremony, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side, denying him the chance to enjoy watching you strip. You cross your arms when your bratting only makes him smirk even wider at you. He quirks an eyebrow as if to say, “Well?”

You resent how much you like his stupid face.

The couch creaks its protest as you climb up onto it, slinging a leg over his lap again, this time with nothing separating your skin from his, which is hot and slightly sticky with the humidity. His cock kicks subtly when your pussy grazes him, and you bite your lip, feeling an answering pulse of desire within yourself. When you mount him, reaching behind to grip him at the base and notch his fat head at your entrance, Eddie prepares for your performance: draping his arms casually over the backrest, fingers idly tapping against the worn fabric, his other arm hinging to bring the joint lazily to his lips.

He looks like such an asshole, waiting for you to service him. And you might've goaded him more because of it, but you forget about being bratty the second you sink down on his lap, taking him all the way into you.

A quiet moan sighs from between your cracked lips when you sit fully on his cock, your eyes slipping closed as you get lost in that initial stretch. He's not the only guy you've fucked— far from it— but there’s just something about the way he slots inside, nudging against the end of you, that always leaves you feeling more perfectly filled than anyone else. Eddie watches with a sly glint in his half-lidded eyes as you start to grind on him, letting yourself drift into the space he always brings you into. With him, you can be soft, sensual, and needy, but also desperate and pathetic. You can act out all your secret desires, know that Eddie will flay you open and force you to acknowledge them, and let the shame of it get you off all at once.

Eddie lets you be a freak, and better yet, he likes it.

Desperate to earn his approval, you run your hands up your body, dragging over your hips and up to your neck as you ride him. Your abdomen rolls as you grind with fluid, sensual movements, doing your best to put on the show he’d requested. You look at him through your lashes as your wandering fingers catch on the hem of your tank top, dragging it slowly up to reveal your soft belly. You hold it just below your breasts so Eddie can watch the way your curves bend and move while you work his cock.

In some respects, the dance is for you as much as it’s for him because the way Eddie watches you with rapt attention, his eyes devouring every inch of your body, really turns you on. You bite your lip, your clit swelling with anticipation as you tease him with a glimpse of the underside of your breasts. He hums approvingly, taking a leisurely hit from the joint. As the smoke curls around him in a tantalizing haze, you give in sooner than you’d been intending and ruck up your top to let your breasts fall out. You start to play with them, squeezing and kneading as you rock your hips harder, your own need mounting.

Gradually, your performance ceases being a performance. Your nipples begin to ache, begging to be touched, and a moan spills unbidden from your lips as you tweak and pinch them, sending pleasure zinging straight down within you. You close your eyes, a tiny frown forming as you try to concentrate on the low flame of your arousal, but it remains at a frustratingly low simmer. You rock faster, grind harder, pinch harsher, your movements a silent plea for the sweet relief only Eddie can give. You’ve built your own pleasure as much as you can on your own, and now, you need him. The coyness is wiped from your expression, replaced with a begging pinch in your brow, a needy, wet shine in your eyes as you blink unseeingly at him, all pretty and pathetic on his lap.

At the border between satisfaction and desperation— that’s where he wanted you.

A hand at your hip stills your movements, and as your eyes snap to focus on Eddie's face, you see he’s leaned forward, his nose scant inches from yours. His other elbow is planted on the couch arm, the joint poised tantalizingly nearby in his ringed fingers. Eddie squeezes your hip firmly, then again more gratuitously, and when you obediently fall still to sit motionless on his cock, he lets his palm slide up the curve of your waist in a drag that makes you gasp, you're so wired and ready for his touch. You watch, rapt, as he brings the joint toward his lips, salivating as a swipe of his tongue moistens them.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap up to his, captured completely by his unwavering gaze. As he inhales, those brown eyes glitter in the orange that flares bright at the joint’s end. And he keeps that point of contact between you as his broad palm travels up, up, up— over the supple heft of your breast, grazing the hard peak of your nipple, skimming the thrumming pulse in your neck, his thumb catching on the underside of your jaw as he cups your cheek. He closes those scant inches between you, and when the bulb of his nose nudges yours, your mouth falls open as your eyes slip closed.

He exhales, you inhale. When the warm rush of Eddie’s breath kisses your lips, you take it into you, your chest expanding as your lungs fill with smoke. The taste of him mingles with a heady rush of arousal, and you continue to take, even through the twinge of discomfort as your lungs stretch to accommodate it all. As Eddie gives you the last of his smoke, you close your mouth, keeping it all inside.

“Hold it,” he murmurs against your skin. His lips trail kisses along your jaw as you obey, fighting your diaphragm as it hitches, wanting to cough. You make a little noise in the back of your throat when he nips you, the brief sharp sting soothed soon after by the flat of his tongue. You hold as long as you can, and when you finally exhale, Eddie rewards you by taking hold of your hips, pulling you into a slow, sensual grind as he kisses you sloppy, wet lips wide and devouring. The friction and fervor crash over you in an intense wave of pleasure, one that has you whining, twisting your fingers in his hair, pressing your tits to his chest, ready to ignite—

The front door shakes with the pounding of a heavy fist.

#blueywrites #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine

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rodolfoparras · 29 days

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okay but what if i choked price with his own cunty scarf do you see what i see

Cw: 18+ forced orgasm, overstimulation, breath play, Price pondering over cnc play, dom top! Male Reader, sub bot! Price

Thinking about Price down on all four ass in the air head burried in the pillow, while you relentlessly bully your cock into his hole.

It’s too much, he thinks.

You’ve been going round after round to the point where his body is spent and he’s sure you’re shooting blanks but you don’t seem to care as you continuously fuck into him.

It’s too much, he squeaks, but you don’t seem to hear him as grunts and groans continuously tumble past your lips, determined as ever to finish.

It’s too much, he thinks and attempts to crawl away from your grip but he completely forgets about the scarf neatly tied around his neck, the one you’re using to keep him in place.

He moves so abruptly, the fabric practically digs into his skin, and for a moment it feels like the breath has been punched out of him, ears ringing loud as the world around him blurs out

But he’s quickly brought back to the present moment by the way continue to relentlessly fuck into him, grunts and groans escaping your lips muttering how you’re so close into his skin, using a big rough hand to fucking him back onto your dick, acting as if you couldn’t care less that he’s on the verge of passing out here

For a brief moment he wonders what you would do if he were to pass out. Would you continue fucking him? Using big rough hands to fuck his unconscious body back onto your dick? Filling him up over and over while he’s ever so oblivious to what you’re doing? The only sign of what you’ve done to him being the sore feeling and the cum trickling out of him?

The thought itself sends goosebumps running down his spine, toes subconsciously curling as he clenches down onto your cock.

And suddenly the obscene sound of your ballsack slapping his ass overtrumps the ringing in his ears ,and instead of focusing on his blurry surroundings all he can focus on is the way big rough hands are controlling every little movement of his hips, using him as if he‘s nothing but a mere a cocksleeve, a hole to use as you please and before he’s even aware of it he’s spilling ropes of cum all over the sheets

“That’s it, such a good boy for me,”

Jesus Christ

#John price #John price x reader #John price x male reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price x male reader #captain john price #dom male reader #top male reader #call of duty #bottom male character #sub male character

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greatstormcat · 7 months

Text

COD Omegaverse Part 2

Part 1 part 3

Alpha!Ghost x Omega!Soap x Omega!f!reader

TW: MDNI 18+, fluff and smut, double penetration, anal, threesome, angst, past trauma

Gaz looked at you, still smiling to himself as you stared at him in confusion. Who would be interested in you? Why even would they? As far as Omegas went you were not the perfect, dainty little specimen that Alphas craved and fought over. You didn’t cower and submit to stronger figures automatically, you only gave respect where it was due, when it was earned. Up until now you’d never even been with an Alpha, for fear they’d scent out your secret and tell the world. You’d put up strong walls around yourself, for your own protection, avoiding physical intimacy. That was, until you found your Pack with the 141.

the soft kindness in Gaz’s eyes, almost looking like pity now, made you start to wonder if those walls had been built too tall, too thick for your own good.

“I know you’re whole thing about hiding your designation,” he said quietly, “but have you considered you’ve gotten so good at it you’ve started losing who you are? Perhaps you’ve gotten so good at hiding you are missing out on something important?”

“Gaz, I’m scared if I let anyone close I will lose who I am anyway,” you reply.

“You have seen the other Omegas on base, they are in the same boat as you. You’re just as strong as any of them, I’ve even seen you take down Soap in drills. Just think about it, and open your eyes to what’s going on around you for fucks sake.” He grinned as he finished speaking, again hinting that you were oblivious to something everyone else saw.

Ghost was waiting outside the entrance to the Medbay, and looked up as you came outside.

“Wanted to check you were okay and take you back to barracks,” he explained, looking you up and down. “You’re still looking pale, you eaten yet?”

“Yes, I have Lt, just need some sleep now,” you reply, scratching at the raw mark where the IV needle had been taped into your arm. His eyes caught the movement and he took your arm in his hand to inspect the red skin, turning your arm gently side to side. As he did, you spotted that his gloves were rolled back slightly exposing his wrists. It was an odd habit he’d gotten into around you over the last few months and…

The realization hit you like a vengeful god had struck you with a thunderbolt. You suddenly thought of all the times Soap had found an excuse to hug you, put his arm around you, marking you with his scent. Ghost had a habit of being near you during exercises and drills involving other Alphas, always being teamed up with you or sudden switches happening bringing him nearer. Gaz’s words rang in your head, you really had been oblivious to something so clear.

Ghost stopped what he was doing and looked at you, eyebrow raised.

“Problem?” He rumbled.

“No, sir,” you replied but your face betrayed the mix of emotions you felt.

“Well, let’s get you back. You look like crap still,” he told you, and then wrapped his hand gently around your arm to move you along.

“Lieutenant, can I ask you something rather personal,” you asked.

“Yeah,” he replied simply, still guiding you along a route he knew that you knew perfectly well.

“You and Soap,” you started but didn’t know how to continue your line of questioning. What did you want to ask? Did you even really want to know the answer?

“You gonna finish the question or am I expected to guess?” He asked with a chuckle, looking down at you. The hand on your arm shifted and slid up to your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your neck very so slightly.

“Let me try again. I wanted to know if you were serious about what you said back in Price’s office, that you were fine with me going around with your scent on me?” The movement of his thumb was very light, enough that you were able to resist the sensation while still enjoying it.

“Sergeant, you are one of the smartest soldiers I’ve ever worked with,” he began, “but you can miss obvious so easily sometimes.” He didn’t make it sound insulting, like it was just an observation instead so there was no sting in his words. “Soap and I have been interested in you since before we even knew you were an Omega.”

He stopped walking, and you realised you were outside your door now. He stood in front of you, hand slipping from your shoulder to the back of your neck now, his eyes burning into yours.

“We’ve talked and, well, we’d like to court you, if you’d be interested?” There was your answer, and now your Lieutenant was waiting for yours while resting his hand on the back of your neck. There was nowhere to hide now, he knew you and knew you well, his eyes watching your face carefully.

“I’d like that,” you

A few days after your talk with Ghost, Soap caught up to you as you were heading towards the rec room. He approached carrying a paper bag in his hand as he called out to you. When you slowed to greet him, his smile warm and infectious, he held the bag to you unceremoniously.

“What’s this?” You asked, opening the bag and peering inside. You pulled out a soft, thick blanket and it smelled heavily of Soap, as though he had purposely scented it himself before giving it to you. You stared at it in shock and confusion. “It’s a blanket…”

“It’s a courting gift, for your nest,” he said with a confused frown which turned to concern when he saw no sign of understanding on your face. “You have a nest, dontcha?” You swallow back tears, despising the feel of the pain in your chest.

“I’ve never actually nested,” you admit, rubbing the soft material between your fingers and releasing more of the wonderful scent. “If someone found it…” your voice cracked and you stopped speaking, unable to meet Soap’s eyes as you knew there would be pity in them.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “That’s a powerful instinct to ignore. Even I’ve always made sure I have somewhere to go, even when I was hidin’ my designation.” He sighed deeply and leant his head against yours so he could speak as softly as possible. “Be honest with me, are you ashamed of yourself? Of being an Omega?”

The one question you had never wanted to be asked hung in the air before you, and there was nowhere to run from it. You clenched the blanket in your fists, tears burning your eyes worse than any chemical warfare agent you had ever experienced, and nodded once.

The hug Soap enveloped you in was tight and fierce, crushing the air from your lungs with its intensity.

“Right, how about this, I will help you build yerself a nest. Okay?” He looked you squarely in the eyes, palms pressed to the sides of your face. He blinked as a thought struck him and he got up, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind him. “Come on,” he said, as you were pulled down the hallway to the quarters he shared with Ghost. Soap opened the door and pulled you in, shutting it firmly behind you before turning to face you, his expression unreadable.

“This is to show you that I am serious about how I, we, feel about you and that you don’t need to be ashamed. Okay?” He said, resting his forehead against yours. The mixture of scents in the room were a symphony as Soap tugged your hand and led you to the far side of the bed. There, tucked into the corner was a collection of blankets, pillows and clothing. The smell rising from it was a strong mixture of both men and their bond, and it crept into your head teasing and calling to you.

“It’s okay,” he encouraged you, helping you take off your boots and easing you into the collection fabrics. You made sure not to disturb anything as you sat down, and Soap quickly joined you, pulling you down to curl with him against his chest.

The effect was immediate and intense. You relaxed, felt yourself let go of all tension and melted against Soap who held you gently in his arms, stroking your hair. Your eyes drifted shut as your heartbeat slowed, you allowed yourself to nuzzle against Soap, and that was when you felt the vibration in his chest begin low and gentle. It took longer than it should have to realise he was purring as he held you, and the sound drew you further into a state of contentment.

The door opened and you flinched before Soap shushed you, a low chuckle sounding in his chest. You heard an audible inhale of breath as Ghost caught your scent in his private quarters.

“What the fu…” Ghost’s words died in his throat as he moved around the bed and saw Soap and you curled together in the nest. “Johnny, care to explain?” He asked softly, his eyes bouncing between the pair of you as slowly eased himself down to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t get too excited, Simon,” Soap chuckled, “just needed to show the lass what she’s been missin’. Ghost watched as you sat up, Soap continuing to lounge propped up on his elbow beside you but resting his hand on your knee.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Although you couldn’t see his face, his tone betrayed what you imagined would be a huge grin beneath his balaclava. You wondered if he would remove it if you accepted their proposal as mates.

You met Ghost’s eyes and gave a shrug.

“He’s going to help me build a nest. I’ve never had one before,” you explain.

“No nest?” Ghost repeated incredulously, his brows furrowing as he looked down at you and he took a deep breath then blew it out slowly as though controlling himself. “How have you ended up living like this? It’s more than just hiding your designation, something happened to you in the past...”

“My dad, he would rant about Omegas a lot when I was little,” you explained. “He said Omegas were attention seekers, whores or worse. When I started to present as one, he lost it and kicked me out,” As much as it hurt you to relive the memory, being able to share it was cathartic, especially whilst Soap cradled you against his chest.

The scent of Ghost’s anger cut through the air, his hands clenched until his knuckles went white and he growled low in his throat.

“Simon,” Soap warned his mate gently, recognising the protective edge of Ghost glinting through his outer calm. Ghost shook his head, running his head over the top of his head. “She knows she doesn’t have to live like that now, it’s okay.”

“I do, it’s okay. I know I’ve been living half a life up to now and you’re both helping. Honestly.”

You carefully got out of Soap’s nest and stood up, feeling content and more sure of yourself than you had in years.

“I should go,” you said with a smile, picking up the bag containing the blanket.

“I’d rather you stayed,” the Alpha said firmly, “but it’s up to you.” You walked to the door. “Wait,” came a firm command which stopped you in your tracks. Ghost stood and walked to you pulling his t-shirt over his head as he went, then held it out to you with a raised eyebrow. “Johnny gave you his gift. This is mine, maybe it can be the start of your first nest.” You hear Soap swear softly, and you accepted the warm fabric. You pressed it to your nose and inhaled, earning a satisfied hum from the Alpha, who nodded with approval.

“Thank you, both of you,”

It took a few days, a trip off base during some down time with Soap’s guidance, but you finally completed construction of your nest. Once you had allowed yourself to start the project you were amazed at how important the task became to you. The placement of each item was carefully scrutinised and adjusted, until you were happy with the outcome. Ghost’s t-shirt was given a prominent position, alongside the blanket Soap had given you at the start of the endeavor.

Eventually you felt comfortable enough that you decided to invite the other Omega to join you.

“You ready for that, hen?” He had replied after you made the offer in a break in training.

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t, would I?” You replied with a grin.

“Fair enough, it’s gonna drive Simon nuts you realize?” he smirked, nodding across at the Lieutenant who was busy across the training ground. “He’s dying to see what you’ve made, and if you’ll ask him to see it.”

“All in good time, you’ve both been patient with me and I can’t be grateful enough for that,” you said. “But between you and me, I promise he will very soon.”

Later that day, you opened the door to your quarters in answer to Soap’s knock. His gorgeous, smiling face greeted you, and you bite your bottom lip to fight the urge to kiss him then and there.

“Come on in,” you smiled, letting him step inside. He looked around happily wandering about the space, stopping only when he saw your nest.

“Looks good, you’ve done well for a first timer,” he said softly, giving you another beaming smile. You lowered yourself down into the comforting softness and beckoned him in with you. Soap moved gently beside you, slipping his arm under you and shifting you so he could spoon up behind you in the warmth of the nest.

This time, when you began to relax, it was you who purred. It was the first time in your life you had felt safe and happy enough to do so, and Soap kissed the back of your neck in response. His own purr started shortly after, and you wondered what Ghost’s response would be to having two mates with him just like this moment.

You felt Soap’s lips on the skin of your neck again, leaving a tingling wetness behind that cooled under his breath, and a rush of arousal coursed through your veins. It bled into your scent almost instantly in your relaxed and unguarded state.

“Soap…” you whispered, hips gently pressing back against his.

“I know, hen. Can smell it on ya,” he whispered against your neck and placed a firmer kiss. He slipped his hand down from your hip to your thigh and squeezed. “Not yet though, love. I promised Si I’d keep my paws to myself for now.”

You sighed with frustration. “I know, it’s probably best while we work out what we are doing. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck,” you pour playfully.

“Can’t be too careful now,” he agreed and placed another kiss against your neck despite the obvious effect it had on you.”how ‘bout I go and let you rest, rather than get you riled up?”

“Okay, and say goodnight to Ghost for me,” you say as Soap got up, cresting a cold space behind you that you instantly hated. “Actually, let him know I’d like him to come here tomorrow after training. If he wants to, that is.”

Soap grinned even wider than before.

“Aye, he will be here, trust me on that.”

Ghost looked down at the fabrics, eyes taking in the items from Soap and himself with pride, his chest swelling.

“That’s a good nest,” he said with a nod, and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a wad of black fabric. “Just needs one more thing though,” he unfolded the wad to reveal one of his balaclavas.

“Oh, yes that would be nice,” you reached out for it, but he pulled it back.

“No, that one's clean, no scent on it,” he said and reached up and pulled the one he was wearing off his face. He smiled at you, messy blonde hair ruffled by the mask, lips crooked with scars and a nose bent from too many breaks, but warm and beaming at you all the same. Your heart thundered in your chest as you looked at him. “You take this one,” he held out the mask to you, smirking at your shocked response. “The other ones for later when I leave.”

“Thanks,” you managed to say, and cracked a massive smile back at him before gesturing towards the nest.

He squeezed himself into the space with you, thick limbs adjusting with instinctual ease to surround you, protect you like any good Alpha should. Like you Alpha should, the thought came so easily now. His nose pressed against your scent gland and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, your body suddenly falling soft and limp. He felt your reflex, and chuffed against your skin.

“You’re a good Omega,” he said softly, lips just touching against your neck. “You shouldn’t feel you need to hide, be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you sir,” you whisper back.

“I think we can forget that ‘sir’ stuff for now. Simon will do just fine.”

“Thank you, Simon,” you grin. There was an answering growl from him as he heard his name leave your lips, and he kissed at your gland sending another wave of bonelessness through you which this time you managed to resist. He chuckled in response, a deep and wicked sound.

“Yeah, such a good fucking Omega,” he growled and kissed harder at the raise flesh to test you. This time a whimper escaped your throat as you fought the urge to submit, and Ghost pushed his hips against your backside, rubbing his hardening cock against you.

When his tongue ran over the sensitive patch of skin, you moaned openly and he pulled your shoulder back so he could kiss you. His tongue slid against your lips and you opened obediently for him, letting him taste you deeply. You curled your fingers into his hair and tugged, deepening the kiss and urging him on. The smell of arousal suffused the air around you, but he suddenly pulled back.

“Fuck, you’re delicious,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. “We’re not going any further though, just so you know.”

“Yeah, Soap said the same thing yesterday. Something about being careful until I decide what to do.”

“That’s right,” Ghost replied softly. “I don’t want you making a decision in the heat of the moment that you then regret. We want to be your mates, but only if you’ll have us.”

“Well, I accept you both.”

Ghost pulled off his mask the second the door his quarters shut and turned the lock. In a blur of movement he then had you pinned to the wall beside the door, caged with his arms either side of your head and his face close to yours.

“Say it,” he said. Soap had been lounging in his nest and sat bolt upright as he caught the scent rolling off the two of you. When he heard Ghost’s words he got to his feet quickly and moved closer.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked with an eyebrow raised as he looked between Ghost and you.

“Say it. Tell Johnny what you said,” Ghost rumbled, eyes never leaving yours as you chewed the inside of your mouth trying to hide your smile.

“I said that I accept you both,” you replied firmly. Ghost’s mouth crashed against yours in an almost violent kiss, his hands pulling at your clothes desperately. Soap swore under his breath and began to strip as well, knowing full well what would happen now.

The three of you tumble onto the bed, you pulled Soap towards you to kiss him as well, as Ghost kicked away the remaining items of clothing. For a moment he stood and admired the two Omegas in his bed, his Omegas, as Soap kissed you with equal ferocity to his current mate.

You felt Ghost’s hands skate along the inside of your bare thighs and glanced down, but Soap pulled your attention back to him by nipping your bottom lip. You tried to cry out when Ghost’s tongue pressed against your slit but Soap swallowed the sound with his persistent and demanding mouth.

Ghost’s tongue worked up and down your slit, drawing out your slick with each pass until you were moaning and writhing with the need for more.

This was nothing like before, they were taking their time with you, there was no burning pain this time, just the pleasure of the three of you being together because you chose to be. This was happening because you wanted it to.

Soap kissed along your jaw, neck and then collarbone before running his tongue across the swell of your breast. As Ghost began to tease your clit with his tongue, Soap flicked at your nipple with his tongue. The dual sensations caused you to shudder with pleasure, eager to see where this would lead.

With a rumbling moan Ghost pressed his mouth against your pussy and licked deep into you, pushing as far inside as he could go, causing your back to arch up off the bed.

“Oh fuck!” You gasped out as you felt his tongue moving in and out of you, his hands gripped your thighs to keep them spread open for him.

Soap watched with a lax mouth, mesmerized by the sight before him, his hard cock straining with need. You reached out and wrapped your fingers around Soap’s length and began to pump it, drawing a guttural moan from deep in his chest and his head fell back on his shoulders in ecstasy. You felt the huff of air leaving Ghost’s lungs as he watched you and Soap, but his tongue never stilled. As Ghost pushed you closer to orgasm, your hand worked Soap feverishly, your combined moans music to his ears and precum dribbled along the hard shaft of Soap’s cock.

Without warning Ghost sat back on his heels, chin and mouth coated with your slick as he watched Soap tremble, nearing orgasm at your ministrations.

“Johnny, I want you here, now,” Ghost ordered, pulling the Omega to position himself between your shaking thighs, and then pressing between his shoulders so he was on top of you. “You can come after when she does, not before.”

Soap lined his leaking cock up with your entrance and pressed in, hissing at the tight heat as it surrounded him, and you moaned wantonly as he began to thrust into you slowly taking you closer to your orgasm. There was movement on the bed, and Soap suddenly stilled and shuddered.

“Fuck… Si, what are you… ah!” You felt Soap’s cock twitching inside you, and you realised that Ghost was behind him sinking his cock into the other Omega’s slicked hole. When Ghost thrust into him, you felt the force through Soap’s cock and gasped.

“Remember Johnny, not before she cums,” Ghost growled and began thrusting. You were already teetering on the brink of orgasm, but the sight and feel of Ghost fucking Soap into you pushed you quickly over the edge and you orgasmed hard clutching onto Soap’s shoulders. Your inner walls clenched onto Soap’s straining length as Ghost pounded into him, and he followed you over the edge quickly, gasping and whimpering with the sensations.

Soap carefully moved off of you, kissing you tenderly, and you felt Ghost move himself into position. His cock glistened with Soap’s slick as he teased it against your sensitive flesh until you rolled your hips, chasing the blunt head as he collected Soap’s seed as it leaked from you.

With one smooth thrust Ghost pushed into you, the ripples of your first orgasm merging into a new wave of pleasure, building towards another quickly. Ghost leant down to you, his breathe coming in harsh pants until he latched onto the side over your neck, drinking in your scent and you felt his knot growing and catching. The pressure when it finally caught made you cum again.

As you orgasmed again Ghost sank his fangs into your gland, marking you as his mate, and you fell completely limp in his arms as he came, painting you inner walls with his cum. The mark throbbed, but in a wonderful way, and Ghost lay you carefully on the bed, your back against Soap. Both men, your mates, pressed themselves against you, damp with sweat and scents mingling into one beautiful bonding scent, along with the combined purrs of both Ghost’s Omegas.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months

Text

Housing is a labor issue

There's a reason Reagan declared war on unions before he declared war on everything else – environmental protection, health care, consumer rights, financial regulation. Unions are how working people fight for a better world for all of us. They're how everyday people come together to resist oligarchy, extraction and exploitation.

Take the 2019 LA teachers' strike. As Jane McAlevey writes in A Collective Bargain, the LA teachers didn't just win higher pay for their members! They also demanded (and got) an end to immigration sweeps of parents waiting for their kids at the school gate; a guarantee of green space near every public school in the city; and on-site immigration counselors in LA schools:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Unionization is enjoying an historic renaissance. The Hot Labor Summer transitioned to an Eternal Labor September, and it's still going strong, with UAW president Shawn Fain celebrating his members victory over the Big Three automakers by calling for a 2028 general strike:

https://www.teenvogue.com/story/uaw-general-strike-no-class

The rising labor movement has powerful allies in the Biden Administration. NLRB general counsel Jennifer Abruzzo is systematically gutting the "union avoidance" playbook. She's banned the use of temp-work app blacklists that force workers to cross picket lines:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

She's changed the penalty for bosses who violate labor law during union drives. It used to be the boss would pay a fine, which was an easy price to pay in exchange for killing your workers' union. Now, the penalty is automatic recognition of the union:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

And while the law doesn't allow Abruzzo to impose a contract on companies that refuse to bargain their unions, she's set to force those companies to honor other employers' union contracts until they agree to a contract with their own workers:

https://onlabor.org/gc-abruzzo-just-asked-the-nlrb-to-overturn-ex-cell-o-heres-why-that-matters/

She's also nuking TRAPs, the deals that force workers to repay their employers for their "training expenses" if they have the audacity to quit and get a better job somewhere else:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/14/prop-22-never-again/#norms-code-laws-markets

(As with every aspect of the Biden White House, its labor policy is contradictory and self-defeating, with other Biden appointees working to smash worker power, including when Biden broke the railworkers' strike:)

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

A surging labor movement opens up all kinds of possibilities for a better world. Writing for the Law and Political Economy Project, UNITE Here attorney Zoe Tucker makes the case for unions as a way out of America's brutal housing crisis:

https://lpeproject.org/blog/why-unions-should-join-the-housing-fight/

She describes how low-waged LA hotel workers have been pushed out of neighborhoods close to their jobs, with UNITE Here members commuting three hours in each direction, starting their work-days at 3AM in order to clock in on time:

https://twitter.com/MorePerfectUS/status/1669088899769987079

UNITE Here members are striking against 50 hotels in LA and Orange County, and their demands include significant cost-of-living raises. But more money won't give them back the time they give up to those bruising daily commutes. For that, unions need to make housing itself a demand.

As Tucker writes, most workers are tenants and vice-versa. What's more, bad landlords are apt to be bad bosses, too. Stepan Kazaryan, the same guy who owns the strip club whose conditions were so bad that it prompted the creation of Equity Strippers NoHo, the first strippers' union in a generation, is also a shitty landlord whose tenants went on a rent-strike:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/20/the-missing-links/#plunderphonics

So it was only natural that Kazaryan's tenants walked the picket line with the Equity Stripper Noho workers:

https://twitter.com/glendaletenants/status/1733290276599570736?s=46

While scumbag bosses/evil landlords like Kazaryan deal out misery retail, one apartment building at a time, the wholesale destruction of workers' lives comes from private equity giants who are the most prolific source of TRAPs, robo-scabbing apps, illegal union busting, and indefinite contract delays – and these are the very same PE firms that are buying up millions of single-family homes and turning them into slums:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Tucker's point is that when a worker clocks out of their bad job, commutes home for three hours, and gets back to their black-mold-saturated, overpriced apartment to find a notice of a new junk fee (like a surcharge for paying your rent in cash, by check, or by direct payment), they're fighting the very same corporations.

Unions who defend their workers' right to shelter do every tenant a service. A coalition of LA unions succeeded in passing Measure ULA, which uses a surcharge on real estate transactions over $5m to fund "the largest municipal housing program in the country":

https://unitedtohousela.com/app/uploads/2022/05/LA_City_Affordable_Housing_Petition_H.pdf

LA unions are fighting for rules to limit Airbnbs and other platforms that transform the city's rental stock into illegal, unlicensed hotels:

https://upgo.lab.mcgill.ca/publication/strs-in-los-angeles-2022/Wachsmuth_LA_2022.pdf

And the hotel workers organized under UNITE Here are fighting their own employers: the hoteliers who are aggressively buying up residences, evicting their long-term tenants, tearing down the building and putting up a luxury hotel. They got LA council to pass a law requiring hotels to build new housing to replace any residences they displace:

https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-11-28/airbnb-operators-would-need-police-permit-in-l-a-under-proposed-law

UNITE Here is bargaining for a per-room hotel surcharge to fund housing specifically for hotel workers, so the people who change the sheets and clean the toilets don't have to waste six hours a day commuting to do so.

Labor unions and tenant unions have a long history of collaboration in the USA. NYC's first housing coop was midwifed by the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America in 1927. The Penn South coop was created by the International Ladies Garment Workers’ Union. The 1949 Federal Housing Act passed after American unions pushed hard for it:

http://www.peterdreier.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Labors-Love-Lost.pdf

It goes both ways. Strong unions can create sound housing – and precarious housing makes unions weaker. Remember during the Hollywood writers' strike, when an anonymous studio ghoul told the press the plans was to "allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses?"

Vienna has the most successful housing in any major city in the world. It's the city where people of every income and background live in comfort without being rent-burdened and without worry about eviction, mold, or leaks. That's the legacy of Red Vienna, the Austrian period of Social Democratic Workers' Party rule and built vast tracts of high-quality public housing. The system was so robust that it rebounded after World War II and continues to this day:

https://www.politico.eu/article/vienna-social-housing-architecture-austria-stigma/

Today, the rest of the world is mired in a terrible housing crisis. It's not merely that the rent's too damned high (though it is) – housing precarity is driving dangerous political instability:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

Turning the human necessity of shelter into a market commodity is a failure. The economic orthodoxy that insists that public housing, rent control, and high-density zoning will lead to less housing has failed. rent control works:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/16/mortgages-are-rent-control/#housing-is-a-human-right-not-an-asset

Leaving housing to the market only produces losers. If you have the bad luck to invest everything you have into a home in a city that contracts, you're wiped out. If you have the bad luck into invest everything into a home in a "superstar city" where prices go up, you also lose, because your city becomes uninhabitable and your children can't afford to live there:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/27/lethal-dysfunction/#yimby

A strong labor movement is the best chance we have for breaking the housing deadlock. And housing is just for starters. Labor is the key to opening every frozen-in-place dysfunction. Take care work: the aging, increasingly chronically ill American population is being tortured and murdered by private equity hospices, long-term care facilities and health services that have been rolled up by the same private equity firms that destroyed work and housing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

In her interview with Capital & Main's Jessica Goodheart, National Domestic Workers Alliance president Ai-jen Poo describes how making things better for care workers will make things better for everyone:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-12-13-labor-leader-ai-jen-poo-interview/

Care work is a "triple dignity investment": first, it makes life better for the worker (most often a woman of color), then, it allows family members of people who need care to move into higher paid work; and of course, it makes life better for people who need care: "It delivers human potential and agency. It delivers a future workforce. It delivers quality of life."

The failure to fund care work is a massive driver of inequality. America's sole federal public provision for care is Medicaid, which only kicks in after a family it totally impoverished. Funding care with tax increases polls high with both Democrats and Republicans, making it good politics:

https://www.dataforprogress.org/blog/2021/4/7/voters-support-investing-in-the-care-economy

Congress stripped many of the care provisions from Build Back Better, missing a chance for an "unprecedented, transformational investment in care." But the administrative agencies picked up where Congress failed, following a detailed executive order that identifies existing, previously unused powers to improve care in America. The EO "expands access to care, supports family caregivers and improves wages and conditions for the workforce":

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2023/04/18/executive-order-on-increasing-access-to-high-quality-care-and-supporting-caregivers/

States are also filling the void. Washington just created a long-term care benefit:

https://apnews.com/article/washington-long-term-care-tax-disability-cb54b04b025223dbdba7199db1d254e4

New Mexicans passed a ballot initiative that establishes permanent funding for child care:

https://www.cwla.org/new-mexico-votes-for-child-care/

New York care workers won a $3/hour across the board raise:

https://inequality.org/great-divide/new-york-budget-fair-pay-home-care/

The fight is being led by women of color, and they're kicking ass – and they're doing it through their unions. Worker power is the foundation that we build a better world upon, and it's surging.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/13/i-want-a-roof-over-my-head/#and-bread-on-the-table

#pluralistic #labor #hot labor summer #eternal labor september #jane mcalevey #los angeles #weaponized shelter #housing #airbnb #equity strip noho #tenants unions #red vienna #jennifer abruzzo #nlrb #the rent's too damned high

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soaps-mohawk · 4 months

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 6: One Step Closer

Summary: You're all trying to adjust to the changes happening between you and the members of your pack.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, some Price x Gaz

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, suggestive content, handjobs, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language

A/N: I'm not entirely happy with this one and might come back when I feel better and do some changes, but for now, it's fine. Mostly just a filler chapter more than anything. Some sweet moments, some maybe steamy...Building up for some more exciting things coming in the next parts. Also I just wanted to clear something up, pretty much everyone in this universe is at least a little bisexual. That will make sense once you read the chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

(Gif found on Google)

He curses the click of the door as it opens, making sure to go slowly so it doesn’t squeak as it’s prone to when it rains. His lips turn up in a smile as he catches a glimpse at the sight on the couch, no more than half a moment before Price’s honed senses cause him to wake at the change in atmosphere.

He blinks tired eyes at Gaz, head lifting from where it had drooped to his chest in his sleep. He adjusts his hold on you, still asleep and unaware in the safety of your alpha’s arms.

“Sleeping in your office again, sir?” Gaz says quietly, stepping closer to the couch.

Price grunts quietly, shifting his hold on you so he can lift a hand to rub at his eyes. His voice is thick and gravelly with sleep as he answers. “Didn’t mean to.”

Gaz hums, running a hand through Price’s hair as the air between them changes from Captain and Sergeant to alpha and beta. “Should get you both to bed.”

“You take her.” Price murmurs. “She’ll forgive you easier for invading her space.”

Gaz knows he’s right. He’d already been invited in once. His scent in your space would be less jarring than Price’s. Price carefully unravels your arms from around his neck, letting Gaz slip his arms under you to lift you off his lap. You stir slightly at the movement, letting out a quiet grumble.

“Shh pretty girl.” Gaz shushes you, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “Just taking you to bed.”

Price follows behind him as he carries you through the halls to your room. You’re asleep by the time he reaches your door, Price opening it for him. Gaz slips in, carrying you to your bed. He makes sure you’re comfortable, tucking the blanket around you before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

He spares one last glance at you fast asleep before he closes the door, turning to Price. “Your turn.”

“You gonna carry me too?” Price asks, a playful glint shining in his eyes despite the obvious exhaustion.

Gaz huffs out a laugh. “You wish.” He puts a hand on his back, guiding Price down to his door, closest to the entry to the barracks.

He follows the alpha into his space, meticulously clean and tidy as usual. They both blink against the harsh overhead light, Gaz leaning against the door as Price begins emptying his pockets, getting settled in his space.

“She knelt for me tonight.” Price says as he sits at his desk to unlace his boots.

“She’s making headway.” Gaz replies, surprised that you asked to kneel so soon. He knows how meaningful kneeling is to both alpha and omega, how intense it can be, how much trust there is involved.

Price hums, standing to remove his pants. “I fear Laswell was right. She’s turning out to be a good fit.”

“She’s already got Simon worked up.” Gaz smiles, moving to the dresser to fish out clean sleep clothes. “I fear she may be taking a page out of Johnny’s book.”

“Well, if it gets him to stop torturing himself, then I can’t say I’ll complain.” Price says, pulling his shirt over his head. “You know how he is.”

“I know.” Gaz says, holding out the clean shirt and sweatpants. “Can’t say I blame him entirely. Not after what he’s been through.”

Price slips on the clean clothes, stepping closer to Gaz. “He’ll warm up to our girl eventually.”

“‘Our girl?’” Gaz’s eyebrows lift as Price steps in even closer, their noses brushing. “That’s quite the jump.”

“She’s been our girl from the start. As soon as those papers were finalized, there was no sending her back.” Price says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Gaz’s lips. “I wouldn’t put her through that. Not after everything.”

Gaz pulls back, Staring at Price’s face. “You know something.”

“I wouldn’t say I know anything, but I have my suspicions.” He moves past Gaz, turning off the overhead light. “I know we all do.”

“You think she’ll tell us?”

“I think she will, with time. I don’t want to push her into too much too soon.” He pats Gaz on the ass. “Come on, in bed.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Gaz smirks, Price giving him a look as the beta pulls down the covers, crawling into the bed.

Price groans internally, trying to calm the twitch in his pants at the mental picture of you, those big puppy eyes shining playfully as you saluted him. The small spark of excitement every time you call him “sir.” How easily you relaxed for him while you knelt, giving over complete trust and control to him for an hour.

He crawls under the covers, tossing an arm over Gaz, trying to block out all the mental images flashing through his head.

“Forget something in your pocket, sir?” Gaz says, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Shut it, Garrick.”

You’re jarred awake by the sound of movement in the hallway. You let out a quiet noise of indignation, letting your eyes close again. It’s too early, around the time the boys leave to go workout. You’ve been graciously given a couple days off to rest and recover, likely Price’s recommendation. You knew if it were up to Ghost, he’d force you to work through the pain. You’re glad for the break, though, and you would be even if you weren’t horribly sore.

Your head is still spinning a bit from last night. You’re not quite sure how you made it to bed, but the faint scent of clean linen and the sea gives you an idea. You bury your face in your pillow, letting out a groan. You knelt for Price last night. You opened yourself up to that vulnerability, and he had graciously guided and supported you through it. He didn’t scruff you, even though he could have, nor was there any demand for control in his grasp, he could have easily taken it.

He’d been a good alpha, helping you relax and destress. You feel lighter for the first time in weeks, since you found out where you were going and who your new pack was going to be. You feel lighter than you have in your entire time on this base, though that could just be the endorphins still flowing a bit from kneeling for your alpha.

It’ll be easier to come down from it once you’re bonded, you know that. Once there’s that connection between you, and you’re around him all the time. You’ll be moving into his room, or at least you’ll spend most of your time in there. You’ll sleep in his bed with him. You wonder if he’s a cuddler, or if he prefers personal space. Would Gaz join you sometimes? You can practically feel the warmth of being sandwiched between them, battle hardened hands trailing along your bare body because you’ll be naked and well bonded with both of them.

You bury your burning face in your pillow letting out a muffled, quiet scream at the thoughts your mind is conjuring. You feel hot, warmth pooling in your stomach. There’s no going back to sleep now, you know that.

You get up, rushing to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face and erase the thoughts in your head. It’s entirely natural, having these thoughts. You will get to that place, very soon, with Price. The others could pursue that sort of relationship with you as well, if they wanted to. It will likely happen naturally with Gaz, given his bond with Price, and after your kiss with Soap...

You’re not sure if it would happen with Ghost, or if he would allow it. You can’t help but think about yesterday, how easily he had overpowered you with just his scent. You had been scared, as it was your nature to be when an alpha was posing a direct threat to you, but the way he had looked hovering over you, the feeling of him pressed against you when he’d pinned you to the floor. How easily he got you into that position. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of him pinning you down like that, or better, pinning you against Soap, his hand on the back of your neck.

You splash cold water on your face, holding your breath until your lower body stops pulsing in time with your heart. You let out a quiet curse, focusing on getting ready for the day before grabbing your book and heading for the rec room to try and calm yourself.

“You’re up early, love.”

You jump at the voice, lowering your book as you look up from your spot stretched out on the couch. Gaz is standing there, skin dewy with sweat. They must have just returned from their morning workout, heading in to shower and get ready for the day. Gaz must have noticed your scent and followed it.

“Couldn’t get back to sleep.” You explain as he moves closer to the couch. “Gaz!” You shriek as he crawls over you, dropping his body on top of yours. “You’re all sweaty!”

“You can shower later.” He says, resting his face against your chest, his elbows pressed into the cushions so he’s not completely squishing you with his weight.

“You should be showering now.” You say, trying not to breathe in too much of his scent. It’s heavily tainted with the scent of sweat and musk.

“Then we can shower together.” He murmurs, nuzzling his face further into your chest.

Your face warms, your heart rate picking up at his teasing. The thought of being enclosed in the shower with him, such a small space, packed in together. Skin to skin, bare before each other. You might implode beneath him, warmth beginning to travel down your spine after your thoughts earlier.

“Relax.” He murmurs with a grin, obviously picking up the quickening of your heart rate and the change in your scent. “I’m teasing.”

He’s just as bad as Soap, but not quite as blatant with it. While Soap would tease at any open opportunity, Gaz tended to choose his moments wisely, slipping some teasing remark in when you least expected it.

Gaz goes quiet as he lays there, his breathing steady. You mark your page before reaching up to set the book on the arm of the couch. You can’t help yourself as you run your fingers through his short cropped, damp curls, gently scratching at his scalp. He makes a quiet noise, his body getting heavier.

“Gaz?” You murmur, earning a grunt in response. “Are you falling asleep?”

“Can’t help it.” He murmurs. “So comfy.”

Your cheeks warm as he nuzzles into your chest, letting out a content sigh. You fight the urge to release one of your own, feeling warm and content even pressed against the lumpy cushions of the couch. How easy it is to find comfort even in the most uncomfortable places.

It doesn’t have to be uncomfortable.

Your heart rate kicks up again, hand stilling where it had been scratching Gaz’s scalp. You’re allowed to want. You asked yesterday and nothing bad happened.

“Gaz?” You murmur, trying to fight the nervous twisting of your stomach. “Would you...if I wanted something, would you get it for me, even if it’s stupid?”

Gaz shifts on top of you, knees pressing into the couch as he pushes himself higher so you’re face to face. One of his legs is between yours, holding him up so he doesn’t squish you under his weight.

He stares down at you, blinking the haze of sleep from his dark eyes. “Babygirl, I’d take over the world for you if that’s what you wanted.”

Your lips part in surprise at his answer. You’re not entirely sure he’s allowed to say something like that, even as a joke. The sentiment of it is not lost on you, and you find tears prickling the backs of your eyes.

His arms shift beneath you, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “Tell me what you want.”

You stare up into those big, sweet, dark eyes. Gaz radiates a kindness and calmness like you haven’t felt in a long time. Not that the others aren’t kind, even in Ghost and his aggressiveness, you’ve felt the protective drive within him. It wasn’t based on any claim or sense of ownership, even a sense of duty couldn’t bring forward that kind of reaction. But Gaz...there’s just something so soft and gentle despite the danger he could pose.

“Kiss me.” You blurt out, realizing you’ve been staring for far too long.

Gaz stares down at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Just that? Here I thought you were gonna say something impossible like world domination.”

“Well, if you’re offering...” You shrug.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Probably shouldn’t be making those jokes.” He leans down closer. “Though, if you asked nicely...”

You let out a quiet sound as his lips press against yours. They’re just as soft as they look, pressing against yours so gently and softly. Your arms lift to his shoulders, curling into the fabric of his shirt. He coaxes your lips to move with his, copying his movements as he tilts his head slightly.

Warmth blooms beneath your skin as he kisses you, your head spinning. His scent invades your nose, seeping into your very being. You want to curl up in it, let it surround you like a warm blanket. You catch the whiff of something deeper, the scent of damp earth. Price. You have a sudden urge to pull his shirt collar to the side, to stare at the mark that decorates his scent gland at the base of his throat, a mirror of the one you’ll carry in a few short weeks.

“Ye didnae tell me ye were startin’ a cuddle pile!”

An excited voice causes you both to separate, Gaz barely managing to lift himself up enough so that you don’t get squished when Soap practically jumps on his back.

“Bloody hell, mate,” Gaz grunts. “Tryna squish our poor omega?”

The weight above you shifts before Soap’s head appears over Gaz’s shoulder, a wide grin on his face. “Mornin’ hen!”

“For someone so small, you weigh a ton.” Gaz says with a strain to his voice as sweat breaks out across his forehead from keeping his weight and Soap's off of you.

“I'm no that small.” Soap says, an offended tone to his voice as he goes limp on top of Gaz.

You can't help but giggle at their antics, especially as Gaz pushes himself up to a kneeling position, nearly sending Soap rolling to the floor. Your face is warm from your giggling as they both stand, playfully pushing each other.

“Alright, enough you two.” Price's voice cuts through their playful arguing, amusement shining in his eyes as he leans on the doorframe. “Almost time for breakfast.”

“Come on.” Gaz says, taking your hands and helping you up. “Let's get some pancakes in you before you turn into one.”

“You should try courting her.” Kyle says, scrolling through his phone as he lounges on John's bed. “Like old-fashioned courting.”

“What are you on about?” John grumbles, drying his face with a towel.

“Our little omega. You should try courting her.” Kyle repeats, looking over his phone at John.

John tosses his towel into his hamper before approaching the bed. Kyle lets his eyes rake over his form, his strong arms and soft stomach, thick, strong thighs and the prominent bulge at the front of his briefs.

“It would be worth a try.” Kyle continues, letting John pull the phone from his hands. “Omegas love that shit.”

“And what prompted this thought?” John asks, laying down on his side next to Kyle, pulling the younger man closer.

“She's getting all worked up by us now.” He says, biting back a groan as John trails a hand over his side. “She's kissed Soap and I so far. Got all worked up when I teased her about showering together this morning.” His hand trails through John's short hair as John licks at his throat. “I think she'd enjoy a little attention from her alpha.”

“What do you have in mind?” John murmurs before sinking his teeth into the soft skin of Kyle's throat.

Kyle shrugs, letting out a gasp as John bites at his throat. “Take her out for dinner? Buy her some things for her room? Give in to those alpha cravings a bit.”

John lets out a low growl, pinning Kyle on the bed beneath him. Kyle's lips lift in a smirk, fingers lifting to run through John's beard. His thumb drags across John's lower lip, gaze soft as he stares up at the alpha.

“You won't ruin anything by doing it. There's only so much time until her heat. If I were an alpha, I'd want her to be as comfortable as possible before then. Makes the shift into bonded pack life much easier.” Kyle says.

John leans down until their noses brush, groaning softly as Kyle digs his fingers into his shoulders. He knows Kyle is right. He should make an effort with you, at least try to ensure you're as comfortable around him as possible before he claims you. Most alphas wouldn't have waited for the first heat, wouldn't have even waited a week before claiming, before taking their omega to bed. He doesn't want to be like those alphas. He doesn't want to force you into more than you already have been, more than you will be.

He wants things to happen as naturally as possible, but that doesn't mean he can't try.

Kyle leans up, closing the distance between them and kissing him. He presses his beta back into the mattress, nipping harshly at his lips. Their tongues tangle together, tasting like peppermint toothpaste and something distinctly alpha and beta.

John presses his body closer to Kyle's groaning as his half hard cock drags against Kyle's. Kyle moans into his mouth as John begins grinding against him. Their bodies move together, a familiar dance they've both memorized the steps to.

John groans as Kyle's fingers trail down his back, blunt nails biting into the skin. Breathy moans slip from kiss-bruised plump lips as John kisses down Kyle's throat. Calloused fingers slip under the waistband of John's briefs, teasing the soft supple skin beneath. John grinds down against him harder, dragging his leaking cock against Kyle's twitching one.

“Fuck, Cap.” Kyle groans, bucking up against his alpha. “Lemme feel you.”

John wraps his arms around Kyle, flipping them over so he's on top. Kyle makes quick work of his boxers, tugging John's briefs down roughly. He groans, licking his lips at the sight of his alpha's leaking cock.

“Like what you see, pup?” John asks, lips lifting in a smirk.

“Fuck yes.” Kyle breathes, settling himself on John's thighs.

He leans down, wrapping a hand around both his and John's cocks. John groans as Kyle begins stroking them both, his cock twitching as more precum slips from his tip. He's close, the pent up frustrations from the last couple days along with the tantalizing scent of omega driving him to near insanity.

He feels like he might pop a knot as Kyle picks up the pace, one hand braced against his chest, his hips rocking in short thrusts. His head falls back as his orgasm slams into him, hit cum spurting across his stomach. Kyle groans loudly, frantically pumping his own cock as he reaches his peak, spurting his spend across his alpha's stomach too.

“Made quite the mess, Sergeant.” John says, trailing his fingers through the mix of cum on his stomach.

“Would you like me to clean it up, sir?” Kyle smirks, opening his mouth to allow John's fingers to push in.

His tongue swirls around his thick fingers, lapping them clean. Kyle shifts on top of him, bending down and trailing his tongue across John's stomach, licking up their mess.

“Good boy.” John hums, gently cradling the back of Kyle's neck.

The sky is dark as you make your way from your room. Gaz and Price are nowhere to be found, your cheeks warming at the thought of where they could be and what they could be up to. You take a breath to steady yourself, and your scent, before you head into the rec room. Soap and Ghost are there, Soap on the opposite end of the couch as usual, and Ghost in the chair next to the couch that faces the door.

He sees you first, his shoulders squaring just a bit. Soap turns to the doorway, a typical grin splitting his face when he sees you. It’s been a while since you’ve seen anyone be happy to see you, and you can’t deny that Soap’s joy is a bit contagious. He’s like an excited puppy. You can imagine if he had a tail, it would be wagging non-stop.

“Come tae join us, hen?” He asks, holding out a hand.

Ghost’s eyes are sharp as they stare at you, the silent warning not lost. You’re infringing on their space, infringing on his protective circle around his beta. You’re pushing a boundary and that could be dangerous.

It could be.

You move forward, taking Soap’s hand, letting him tug you down next to him on the couch. You ignore the eyes burning into you, boring holes into your skin as you settle in as close to Soap as you can. You almost smile in victory as Soap drapes his arm across the back of the couch, your attention turning to whatever is playing on the TV.

Ghost and Soap continue their conversation, Soap's fingers brushing your arm every so often. You can feel every time Ghost's burning gaze turns to you, every time he glowers at you for being so close to his beta. You can't help but wonder what's going through his mind, what he's thinking, what he's imagining.

You'll pay for this later.

You can only imagine how he'll punish you in your training for boldly breaching such an obvious boundary.

Soap doesn't seem to notice, or perhaps he simply doesn't care. It's not like you're not allowed to be close to Soap. As a member of your new pack, he had every right to pursue a bond with you if he wanted, regardless of how Ghost felt. Even though they're bonded, Soap is still his own person.

It's almost ironic.

You're starting to feel the exhaustion of your early morning as the night drags on, your head getting heavier and heavier. Ghost's need to glower at you has lessened a bit, his eyes only on you whenever you shift or move. Your head has drooped onto Soap's shoulder, an idea forming in your mind. You're sure it's the exhaustion making you so bold, or perhaps your new belief that the only way you'll even stand a chance at getting through to Ghost is to push those boundaries and stand up to him.

You lift your head, shifting your body until you're laying on the couch, resting your head on Soap's thigh. You watch Ghost's hands curl into fists where they rest on his lap, his eyes burning through your head as you make yourself comfortable. Soap's hand sinks into your hair, massaging your scalp as you lay there, your lips curling into a content smile.

You know it has to be eating at him just a little. A content beta and a preening omega, an image of what he could have if he simply got over whatever is keeping him from accepting you.

“Tired, lass?” Soap's gentle voice pulls you from your thoughts. Your mind had started to doze a bit, trailing off with your thoughts.

You make a quiet noise in agreement, nuzzling against his thigh.

“Let's get ye tae bed.” He says, squeezing your arm.

You're not expecting Ghost to follow as Soap leads you from the rec room, your fingers entwined with his. Even in your tired state you can feel the icy stare at your back, the looming presence of the alpha behind you as Soap walks you to your door.

“Night, hen.” Soap murmurs softly.

You're sure it's the exhaustion making you delirious as you stand on your toes, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. Soap hums against your lips, bending down to follow you as you go to pull away. You ignore the tickling at the back of your neck as he presses another kiss to your lips, your hand reaching for your doorknob and the security of your room.

“Night, Soap.” You murmur, slipping into your room before Ghost makes a rash decision.

You're going to regret it later, but you certainly don't at this moment.

The fabric isn’t as soft as it used to be. It’s been worn too much, washed too many times. You’ve stitched the ripped seam back together, a bit sloppy but you can hardly tell thanks to the luck of finding thread the same color as the sweatshirt. You hold it in your hands, staring at the frayed edges, the loose strings. Well loved, some might call it. Garbage, others might think.

“Finally fixing the holes?”

The voice cutting through the silence makes you jump, your head whipping around to the door. Price is standing there, leaning against the doorframe.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He says.

“It’s alright, sir.” You say, calming your racing heart. You hadn’t even heard him approach. “I thought you were all at training.”

“I had a call I had to take.” He says, entering the room now that you’ve calmed. “Was heading back out when I caught a whiff of your scent.” He lowers himself onto the couch with a quiet groan, staring softly at you.

“I know it’s stupid, holding onto it when I could just ask for a new one.” You say, staring down at the sweatshirt in your hands.

“But it’s more than just a sweatshirt.” He says, tone soft and understanding.

You sink your teeth into your lip, fingers curling into the fabric in your hands. “One of the omegas at the institute gave it to me.” You say, holding the sweatshirt to your chest. “We were the same age so we were grouped together a lot and we got really close. She gave it to me when we reached selection age, since we both knew we were likely to get chosen fast and she wanted to give me something to remember her by. It’s a good thing she did too, because she did get chosen almost immediately.” You let out a quiet laugh, blinking back tears. “I’ve held on to it ever since. It doesn't even smell like her anymore. Hasn’t for a long time.”

Price is quiet for a few moments, his eyes on your face. You can’t look at him, your gaze on the sweatshirt in your lap. “You loved her.” He finally says, his tone not accusing or even disgusted.

It’s understanding. Knowing.

You take a shaky breath, hands closing into nervous fists around the sweatshirt. “Institutes try everything they can to prevent omegas from bonding with each other. Makes it too hard to separate us once we come of age. Alphas don’t want a distressed, unhappy omega, they’re expecting an eager, willing addition to their pack. It’s hard though, when you spend literal years together experiencing the same thing to not form bonds with each other.”

Price huffs quietly. “My grandfather used to tell me about the traditional pack boom after World War 2. When militaries across the world began to forbid bonding and pack formation within ranks. They were spending more time and money on preventing it from happening than anything else. It didn’t take them long to realize it was easier to allow the organic bonds to form. It made soldiers stronger, gave them purpose. It’s easier to look away than to fight what nature intends sometimes.” He smiles at you, stretching his arm across the back of the couch. “We are the last people that will judge you for it.”

You know that. You've known that from the start. The way their scents mingle, their bonds. They're a bonded pack for a reason.

“She never knew. Or, I never told her. I don't know where she ended up or where she is now.” You shrug, letting out a sardonic huff. “It's a lonely existence sometimes, being an omega.”

“I can only imagine.” Price says, giving you a sad smile.

“I suppose I should just get rid of it.” You say, staring at the sweatshirt. “No use holding onto something that could have never been.”

Price squeezes your shoulder gently. “Wait here.”

He gets up, leaving you alone in the rec room. You wait patiently for him to return, growing a bit nervous. What was he doing? Was he telling someone about your confession? Was he going to send you back because of it? You know your worries are unwarranted, but you can't stop them.

He returns a few moments later, a sweatshirt in his hands. “Here.” He says, holding it out to you. “They're standard issue, but I've never been one for sweatshirts. It's just been sitting in my closet.”

You take the sweatshirt, soft and new in your hands. It hardly smells like him, only the light residual scent from being in his room. “Thank you, sir.” You say, rubbing the fabric against your cheek.

He nods at your old sweatshirt. “This way you can save that one, and start picking this one apart.”

Your face warms at his cheeky comment, your head turning down bashfully. “It means a lot, sir. Really.”

“You'll get better use of it than I did.” He glances at his watch. “I best be getting back to the boys. We'll be back before dinner.”

“Wait-” You get up before he can leave, slowly approaching him with the sweatshirt in hand. Your face is burning as he stares down at you, eyebrows raised in waiting. “Will you...scent it?” You hold the sweatshirt out to him.

He looks surprised for a moment before he takes the fabric, rubbing his face and neck against it. He coats the sweatshirt in his scent, the smell of trees and petrichor filling your nose as you watch him. The back of your neck begins to prickle, the desire to roll in his scent getting stronger.

“Thank you, sir.” You say as he hands the sweatshirt back to you. “I'd...I'd also like to kneel again tonight, if that's alright.”

He smiles softly down at you. “Of course. I'll come and get you when I'm ready.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your head before he takes his leave.

You pull on Price's sweatshirt, burying your nose in his scent for a moment. A smile pulls at your lips as you grab your old sweatshirt, making for your room.

You can't wait for tonight.

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod #cod fic #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha beta omega dynamics

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darlingdekarios · 8 months

Text

hide and seek.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,555 content: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader, reader is referred to as a codename "Freya" and related nickname from Ghost, smut [fingering - receiving, unprotected p in v, mentions of stomach bulge, creampie, oral - receiving], kink(s) [size, outdoors, slight degradation, praise, squirting, cum eating], not beta/proof read deal w/ it

during a training exercise, the lines between hunter and hunted become blurred, and the feelings that have been buried inside claw their way to the surface.

"You can't hide forever, Freya."

Eight hours and fourteen minutes into a training exercise with Taskforce 101, and the two men who remained were starting to question if the words rumbling through their ear piece were correct. Dropped in the mountains within a ten mile radius of one another, it was a game of hide and seek … each of you taking on both roles simultaneously as you tried to remain hidden while taking out your opponents.

It was an honor system - survival of the fittest. Price, of course, at a camp at the base of the mountain, sending a team out to retrieve those who were picked off. Now it had dwindled - only the three of you remained, and the comms channels had been particularly quiet as time ticked by, each of you convinced you'd prove yourself top of the food chain eventually.

But Ghost's voice had interrupted the quiet, your focus broken for a moment as you halted all of your movements, waiting for the forest to respond to his voice. When nothing close to you alerted you dropped your own voice lower to quip back at his taunting, adjusting your position where you currently crouched.

"Just have to outlive you, LT."

"And Gaz. Don't forget about Gaz."

A smile spread across your lips, backpack sliding off your shoulders and to the ground quietly in an effort to increase your movement radius. Your target was well within sight now, the figure hunched over a jet boil that was working to make him a hot meal without smoke.

"Oh, don't worry. I didn't forget about Gaz."

"Well, I'm still here, so you've still gotta worry about me finding you first," the named man finally responded, his voice echoed from the earpiece and from the figure in front of you, carried between the trees as he gave no effort to hide himself, thinking he was without company.

You were moving forward now, using trunks and bushes for cover, stalking toward prey that remained blissfully unaware that its downfall was close enough to see puffs of cold breath from them.

"Not for long."

From there, it was silence from you, any further conversation a threat to giving away your location the closer you drew to him. You could hear the uptick of worry in his voice immediately when he responded, his focus on dinner shattered as he stood again. There was no possibility of him fleeing now, not with hot equipment to turn off and put away. Instead, he'd have to wait for the inevitable.

"What's that mean?" he questioned, head searching around his perimeter desperately in hope to find you before you could reach him. When his question went unanswered the frustration in his voice increased, a subtle shake indicating he was aware of his mistakes. This game was over for him … now he only needed to wait. "Hey, what's that mean?"

"That doesn't sound good, Gaz."

You were trying to ignore the tone Ghost used now as he spoke … the subtle amusement lingering under his tone only spurring you along more. It was over for Gaz before he had a real chance to react.

"Freya, what does that … FUCK!"

His shout was muffled into your hand as you slid up behind him and covered his mouth, a victorious smirk covering your face. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket you activated a GPS tracker to signify his pickup location, moving around him to look him face-to-face. He gave you a nod of respect before you hurried back to the trees, replacing your equipment and setting off on your next target.

"That's Gaz out," Price's voice was smooth in the comms, ready to set the match into its final round. "Ghost, Freya, you're all that's left. Try not to play with your food too much."

"Hmm."

You wondered if Ghost had an advantage position now, if he was looking to the trees for evidence of Gaz's retrieval, perhaps hopeful for a tip toward your location. You were eager to ensure he'd receive none.

"No promises."

"Once the sun goes over the mountains, you're alone for the night. No comms. It becomes true survival. Understood?"

"Copy," the two of you spoke in unison and Price dropped out again, returning the two of you to your isolated setting. As you hiked forward you found an eagerness filling your stomach … butterflies fluttering around as the prospect of facing Simon in this setting as the victor for this game set in on you. He could hear the smile you wore on your face as you all but purred into the comms.

"See you soon, Ghost."

The confidence in your voice sent a shiver down his spine - something he found becoming a common occurrence whenever you were around. From behind his mask his lips curved into an amused smile, though his tone indicated no such thing when he spoke.

"We'll see about that."

"It'll get cold soon, Frey. Once the sun drops over those mountains …"

It had been just under two more hours since you'd taken Gaz out, and things had mostly been silent. Neither of you wanted to outright give away your locations by something as easily avoidable as not remaining silent, so for the most part you had, only responding to Price quickly when he provided time updates.

"If you're worried about a little cold you could always forfeit, Ghost."

The laugh that rumbled in him came through even lower through a microphone like the one you wore now, and while the sound still set all of your nerves ablaze, you wished you could hear it in person. It was a ridiculous offer - Simon Riley had never forfeited in his life and he wouldn't start now, even if it meant sleeping beneath a layer of snow tonight. It was something about him that pulled you in like a magnet, his proven results time and time again securing your unspoken feelings for him.

Feelings you now couldn't afford to focus on with bragging rights of this size at stake. You were well aware of the possibility that Ghost had an eye on you through a scope - he could already be tracking your every move. You were certain that, knowing him, he would be close - he wouldn't allow his last remaining enemy to stray too far.

You still hoped to use that to your advantage, opting to ignore the cockiness in his words.

"Not a chance."

It was only an hour later that the sun was no longer offering any amount of warmth, the last of its gold and orange hues diluted by the beginnings of the night sky.

"Price did say if we're out past sundown we're out for the night."

"You sound scared, Frey. Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark?"

"Not a chance."

Really, you weren't…not now, anyway with every inch of your body burning with the desire to win. You echoed his earlier words to initiate a playful banter the two of you ever really enjoyed alone, inviting him in to another game with the reminder that now, only the two of you remained on the line. Thankfully he took the bait, catching on quickly to what you silently offered.

"You should be…never know what's lurking about…hiding behind a tree, in the shadows."

To his own internal pleasure, the quiet laugh that he allowed to rumble through his chest was joined with your own, the soft sound sending a rush of warmth through his body. Though he'd never admitted aloud - maybe not even fully to himself mentally, in truth - he craved moments like this with you, where your laugh and your casual tone fell easily on his ears like the chirp of birds in the morning.

Instead, he enjoyed his time with you selfishly, the need he felt within him to enjoy more of you buried inside where it would never see the light.

"Could say the same to you, big guy. What's lurking in the shadows around you?"

There was something in your voice that made the hair on his neck stand, something to the tone that piqued his interest further. You were almost purring - he was starting to wonder if Price's request not to play with food was directed entirely at you now. As he focused on your tone, on his surroundings, on taking in the trees around him and desperately trying to ignore the new tightness in his pants, your eyes were on the finish line.

You had slipped free of your boots and socks again, suffering through the cold ground in an effort to quiet yourself further as you stalked your way to him slowly under the cover of darkness. When you could begin to make out details - the pockets on his jacket and pants, the glimmer of zippers as they caught the remaining light, every curve his silhouette offered…you stilled, enjoying the moment.

His breath was visible - heavier than usual. You couldn't help the rush of pride that filled you at even the slightest hint that you had his nerves alight. How many people could say that about Simon Riley? It was a feeling so fulfilling you were almost tempted to bask in it longer, to savor every microsecond it lasted.

But the promise of his reaction was far too enticing to stay hidden for too long, a fact you succumbed to as you silently took more steps toward him.

"Hey, Simon?"

"Hmm?"

"Boo."

Fortunately the ground was soft enough to aid in the jump you sprung into to wrap your legs around his waist from behind, your arms wrapping around his neck and giving the slightest squeeze to accentuate your point. He'd lost.

"Fuck."

"Concede."

When the order was not immediately fulfilled you squeezed ever so slightly harder, only enough to drive it home. This was a fair win. One you'd earned.

But he wasn't hesitating to find a way out…he'd taken an intentional moment to allow you time to bask in your glory - at least, that was better than admitting he just wanted to feel you closer for a moment longer…for as many moments as you'd allow. Regardless of his own wants and completely focused on what would make you happy (though he could already feel it radiating from you), he forced himself to not, a deep breath filling his lungs as you released him.

When you climbed down and he turned to face you, the grin that had spread across your face fell open. In preparation for the dark Simon had already removed his glasses, leaving his sparkling eyes bare for you to see, more of his face exposed now in his balaclava than you'd ever been treated to before.

(Though it was hardly enough. Your curiosity about what would greet you beneath the black fabric grew by the day…by the second now as you made eye contact like you'd never been able to before.)

In the depths of his eyes your own pride was matched, telling you enough about his thoughts on your win that the words could truly go unspoken. He studied you carefully, enjoying the curve to your lips as a coy smirk and how somehow still, despite the pride, a neediness flooded behind it all, something as primal and feral as the forest's inhabitants.

"How long have you been on me?"

"Right after I picked up Gaz, he was trailing you from the southeast."

The mask's fabric shifted confirming the light smile that played on his lips, his eyes burning into yours now. As intense as his gaze was (it always was, why should now be any exception?) you were lost it in, searching for a hint of what he was thinking…what he was feeling. He was an expert at this - at hiding, at interrogating, he could easily pick you apart and have the answers he wanted flowing from you with only a little more effort.

With you, however, it required no intimidation to coax what he wanted from you.

"You could've caught up before sundown, then," it was a simple statement, his eyes not leaving yours as he took a knee on his sleeping pack before you, digging in his bag for a small towel and a fresh pair of socks. He motioned for you to take a seat on the rock he'd set up camp next to, nodding in appreciation when you adhered. "Your pace is faster than that."

You hadn't known him very long - you weren't even technically part of the task force as it stood. It has been almost a year, however…nearly twelve months of knowing the man who now knelt before you, carefully wiping mud from your feet and handling you like you would shatter if he wasn't softer than a hummingbird's feather. You didn't know what to expect of physical contact from him…but this degree of gentleness was certainly not it until this moment.

You thanked him for his delicacy by ensuring your eyes never left his face, eager to meet his gaze again whenever his found you again.

"Could've, yeah," you confirmed when he started to slip the warm socks onto your feet, his attention now nearly fully returned to maintaining eye contact with you. You were aware that with each passing moment your heart was beating faster…even more aware that you couldn't stop it even if you tried. "You could've tried to track me."

"Could've done."

"Why didn't you?"

He was still on his knees in front of you - in fact, there was no sign he intended to move now.

"Wanted to see how long it took you to find me. Wanted to see how you'd approach."

You'd never heard his voice like this - so quiet it offered no disruption to the peaceful mountains around you. Not quiet like he normally was to avoid an enemy, quiet to pinpoint that the words were only for you. As if you needed another reason to be attracted to him - as if the very definition of perfection could get any better.

"Did you find my methods satisfactory?"

The longer his eyes burned into yours the easier it was to ignore the dropping temperatures in the air around you.

"I did."

His praise - even just that was enough to be considered such - struck you to your core. You found yourself speechless, your face burning. Unaware for a moment as one of his hands rested against your knee, uncaring that you probably looked foolish as all you could do now was stare. He was willing to hold your gaze for as long as you offered it - a dangerous fact.

"If you're trying to prove yourself to Price, you don't need t' put yourself at more a risk of injury to do it. Proper footwear is important."

"I'm not proving myself to Price. I'm proving myself to you."

He'd been choosing to ignore the signs from you - opting for the safety of denying what was transpiring between the two of you now for the security it provided. It seemed those days were gone - even the air around you seemed to be pushing the two of you together.

Still, this was a territory he'd convinced himself was forbidden, and in his internal fight as to how to move forward it allowed you a moment of doubt. It was you who spoke again before he got the chance, eager to explain your actions further.

Not that you owed it or he expected it…you needed it now to fill the silence.

"I wanted to hear it from you…that I bested you," he could hear the doubt blossoming on the back of your words - it wasn't like you to share like this, it was much safer to keep things to yourself. But if you did that forever, he would as well…and the reality was, you were more willing to break the unspoken rule with yourself before he was. "I wanted to hear the pride in your voice. To see it in your eyes."

His eyes found yours again as he reached a hand toward your face, hesitating for a moment just centimeters away to give you the chance to slap his hand away, waiting for any action from you that confirmed the doubts ever-present in the back of his mind. Instead, ever so subtly your head leaned closer to his hand, inviting the distance to be closed.

All the signs were there, and now he just had to read them.

He grasped your chin between his fingers and held you gently as he drew closer to you, his free hand reaching up to push the bottom half of his mask up. His lips were more inviting than any you'd seen before - it was a cruelty that he covered them, a gift at the same time to your focus.

(For the record - you'd gladly sacrifice your focus if it meant watching his tongue run across his bottom lip. A momentary lapse of your attention was well worth witnessing the way he invited you in now.)

"Who knew you could be so needy?" he questioned, his tongue swiping across his lips again, finger tapping your chin playfully. That alone sent you clenching around nothing - just that taunting question was enough to fully spiral you into desire. "Why don't you tell me why you kept us out here after dark first?"

Your face was burning - every inch of you was burning. Simon was an intelligent man - your plan to string the game along longer hardly a secret now. It was your turn to concede - he'd found you out. Somehow, you couldn't even begin to remotely care.

"For this. This moment alone."

He had come so close now that the distance between your lips could hardly be considered decent. With the smallest movement either of you could have closed it - a kiss both of you had long awaited in silence a promise now.

"Are you hoping for a reward?"

Your mouth had never been this dry and you could only nod, savoring the way his free hand now ran up your side, urging you forward slightly. He began to lean closer, slower than you'd ever seen him move before, to demonstrate where he intended to go, hoping you would follow his lead - hoping you could be the one to initiate what was to come.

"Use your words."

"Yes."

Like a flock of birds startled by a sound too loud cracking in the night like thunder you came crashing together like lightning, his lips finding yours like they'd already done so a thousand times before now. With his strength he had you on your feet and against a tree in the time it took for a gasp to fall from your mouth. He paused, dark gaze softening briefly as he waited for you to give any sort of show that you wanted him to stop. When you didn't, his lips finally claimed yours as your hands pulled him in firmer by grasping his collar.

It was heated - both of you had waited for this moment while simultaneously avoiding it since you'd met, but now that it was here it demanded everything from you - the kiss itself was all-consuming. As your lips and tongues danced together both of you allowed your hands to explore under shirts as best you could. His hands engulfed you - any part of you he grabbed was with as much as he could possibly get his hands on, noticeably holding himself back from grasping tighter in an effort to spare you from bruises.

Until your nails ran down his abs hard enough to leave red trails in their place and he took the unsaid words as further permission, his finger tips digger into your hips harder as he leaned more of his weight against you, truly pinning you to the tree. He gave you a moment to breathe - your vision blurred as you blinked up at him, eager to see the swirls of color in his eyes this close but still hopelessly wanton for his mouth on you some more.

A light smirk played on his lips at your expression - pupils and eyes wide and your already swollen lips remained parted, desperate and shallow breaths falling from your lips. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips to your jaw, dragging them back until he reached your ear with a gentle nip at the lobe.

"'s this what you wanted, dove?"

You could hear the desire fueling his words and could only whimper and nod in response as his lips connected to your neck, one of his hands releasing its hold on your hip to unhook the button of your pants. His lips reached lower, beneath where a collar would normally sit on you to suck a spot that raised goosebumps all across your skin as your zipper was undone. You realized you'd yet to give him the verbal response he probably required and it came from your chest as a broken moan as his hand slipped into your pants, pushing your underwear to the side.

"Y-yes, sir."

It was his turn to groan now, his fingers spreading your folds to spread the slick that had already started to leak from you. He bit into the spot he'd been paying attention to, uncaring if it left a mark for others to see in more casual settings, savoring the gasp and moan that fell from your lips and the way your hands desperately clawed at his sides to hold you to earth as your hips bucked forward, his fingers teasing your entrance as they did.

"Fuckin' soaked already, eh, love?" his taunt was directly below your ear followed by a loving swipe of his tongue, uncaring of the sweat that had gathered on your skin throughout the day and cherishing everything you had to offer. His fingers traced your hole slowly, teasing you with the slightest entrance several times before he continued. "I've barely touched you, y'filthy girl…"

You could once again only whimper as two of his fingers slipped inside of you with a quiet 'tsktsktsk' sounding against his teeth, his muttered words of praise and degradation muddled by your hazy mind as he stretched you open. He was well attuned to what your body responded to, pumping the thick digits into your tight sex with the perfect speed, rubbing against the most sensitive and velvet part of your walls perfectly each time to pull more moans from you.

His lips found yours again when he was satisfied you'd finally caught your breath enough to meet you in another bruising kiss, his hand that wasn't focused on fucking your cunt reaching to work his own pants partially down his thighs, freeing his throbbing cock with a grunt. You could tell by the speed to which his fingers entering you picked up and the rough grasp on one of your hands that he needed you just as desperately, guiding your hand to his cock and groaning again into your mouth as you wrapped your hand around his thick shaft, stroking his length tenderly.

As you continued to ensure your hand paid attention to every inch of him available he worked your pants down, making sure to quietly ask you if you were too cold in doing so and rewarding you with a gentler kiss and pressing closer to you when you shook your head. You could feel an orgasm building in you heavily and he picked up on the cues your body provided like it was something he'd been doing for a long time already, pumping his fingers faster as he continued to relentlessly kiss you.

"Go on, then," he coaxed against your lips, still not pulling away enough to give you a chance to suck in a full breath. You were dizzy, vision blurred already as every cell in your body focused on finding release. "Get nice and messy for me to fuck you."

It was that promise that sent you over the edge, the first wave of euphoria crashing over you and blinding your vision as you gushed around his fingers, the sloppy sounds of them entering your spasming repeatedly bringing a smile to his lips. He gave you the chance to breathe finally, releasing you from his kiss as his fingers abandoned your white hot core, hands grasping your hips to lift you upward. You realized your hand had fallen away from his cock as you'd worked through the initial hit of your orgasm and reached for it again, guiding it between the folds of your pussy and guiding it back and worth as he situated you between him and the tree, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You were closer to his face now and could see the emotions in his eyes more - the hunger and need that filled him pouring from his expression and accentuated by a groan as your slick was spread over his cock. His words were barely more than a growl - the conflict deep behind each one only evident because you understood him. "Shouldn't…fuck you raw, dove. Such a bad fuckin' idea…"

You whined to communicate your dissatisfaction, already desperate to feel every inch of him buried in you and logic chased from your mind this soon after one orgasm had rushed through you. You reached between your bodies to rub your thumb over the pre-cum leaking from his swollen cock, grinding against him more. He was coated in your slick already - the fact he could slip into you with enough aid from just that unfocusing his mind.

"Need you, Simon…"

Of course it was his name on your lips that silenced his worries - that completely erased them. He adjusted quickly and with one swift movement his cock was stretching you, splitting you open on inch after inch as his lips found yours again. It was a fact that his length was too much for you to take in full, one you ignored happily and in a moderate state of drunken bliss until he'd bottomed out in you, tip pushing against your cervix. One of his hands remained attached to your hip and the other reached to press against your stomach and the bulge, adding to the pressure seated in your core so much you already started seeing stars again.

"Y'okay, princess?"

Any other time you'd have snipped at him not to call you that, but now as he muttered it in a slightly higher pitch, his whisper desperate and light against your lips you couldn't bring yourself to mind the name - with his cock buried in you you only nodded in response. His eyes met yours again before he leaned his forehead against yours, giving you a moment to focus on the feeling of his pulling his cock out from your velvet walls slowly.

He waited for a moment, teasing you with a delicate kiss to your bottom lip before he sheathed himself into you fully again with one swift thrust, hand pressing down against your stomach again. The sound of your pussy accepting him in with a squelch combined with the moan that ripped from your chest was pornographic and addicting, and he immediately entered a bruising pace to repeat it as much as he could - greedily working for another release from you.

You were thankful that his resolve had completed melted away as he got lost in the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock on each entry, moans and grunts repeatedly falling from his lips as he fucked into you. While most of his hand stayed pressed against his own bulge inside you he reached his thumb down to your clit to rub the swollen nub, eagerly claiming your mouth again with his tongue when a moan erupted from it.

He continued his efforts relentlessly but gave you another break to breathe to lower his head to your neck again, kissing a trail down to your collarbone where he nibbled lightly, testing how the added stimulation would effect you. Despite the repeated moans and whimpers falling from your lips - it wasn't enough from him, the need to push you over the edge and prove to you the months of this building was worth it fueling his movements with primal need.

His hold on your hip became harder as his speed increased, thrusting into you desperately and rough. Distantly you could hear him praising you repeatedly as your walls began to squeeze his length tighter, mumbling quiet words of appreciation into your skin interchangeably between biting and licking and sucking. When your legs began to shake around him, he knew you were close and while he could've continued on just how he was he pressed for more, fucking into your harder with bruising thrusts into you.

(In the morning you'd remark that he could've taken it easier on you considering you had a hell of a hike back to camp and it would only be worse with a bruised cervix and hips. He'd only offer you a smirk as he remarked the pain would be good for you.

But he'd carry you for however long you asked him to if it was too much.)

"That's it, dove," he cooed, adjusting to look into your face again. "Want you to cum on my cock…want to see how messy we can make you, yeah?"

You nodded, vision blurred as you met his eyes again, eager to see the gaze of adoration he was now offering to you. His lips twisted into a smirk at the sight of your mouth hanging open, a bit of drool running down your chin - something you hadn't noticed and would've felt embarrassed over if he hadn't leaned forward and greedily swiped at it with his tongue, kissing you deeply again.

It was then that a second orgasm was pulled from you - but between the stimulation of the head of his cock rubbing against the perfect spot inside you, his thumb circling your clit, and his lips kissing you as though it was life sustaining this time your release squirted from you, your release coating his cock, waist, and thighs. A low groan rumbled in his chest and his speed picked up again, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around him and milking his own release from him.

He opened his mouth to try to warn you it was coming - a lost cause when you abandoned his kiss to attach your lips to his neck and jaw, lightly nipping and licking at several sensitive spots that were typically covered to the world. He grasped your hip tighter and stilled his movements otherwise as he filled you with his release, his hot seed creating such a large load that it was already leaking from you around him.

You continued to kiss on his jaw as you both came down again, Simon waiting until he was certain you wouldn't fall before he removed his length from you, gently lowering you back to the ground. His eyes remained transfixed on your combined releases leaking down your thighs for a moment, conflicting emotions once again flooding his expression as he gazed at you. Just as you opened your mouth to ask if he was okay he dropped to his knees, using one hand pressed against your stomach to pin you to the tree again as the other lifted one of your legs over his shoulder.

He leaned forward to lick each of your thighs clean - you wished he'd removed his mask briefly so you could tangle your fingers in his hair, the thought was abandoned when he leaned forward fully to connect his flattened tongue to your folds, licking a slow stripe through them gently. You gasped and grasped at what you could, landing on holding the hand over your stomach and the back of his head, anchoring him to you.

He was happy to accept the way you pulled his head forward, burying it into your cunt more until his nose was pressed to your clit. His tongue found your hole and fucked into it, greedily slurping in as much of your releases as he could. It was entirely too much the way he swirled his tongue and sucked against you hungrily, but you still couldn't silence the loud cry of disappointment when his mouth abandoned you only to stand and kiss you again, silencing your whine with his tongue sharing what he hadn't swallowed for himself already.

When he released you again he leaned his forehead against yours, a lazy smirk spread across his lips that matched the smug energy radiating from him. With a shaking voice you quipped at him, unashamed of what he'd reduced you to and completely pleased with how your plan had come to fruition.

"Price told us not to play with our food."

The way his laugh huffed from him in his breathless state was intoxicating, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip briefly catching your gaze and transfixing you again.

"What Price doesn't know won't hurt him.

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