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soaps-mohawk · 7 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 11: It's Coming

Summary: Things have begun to shift in your developing relationship with your pack. Unfortunately, nature has the worst timing in the world.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, medical stuff, plenty of fluff.

A/N: I wrote like 90% of this chapter on my phone so please forgive any weird typos. I'm super excited for this one and this whole part really. Lots of good stuff coming up!!

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At first you’re not quite sure what pulled you from sleep. You’re warm and more comfortable than you have been in a long time, despite the dull throbbing between your thighs. The pillow against your back shifts, a chill settling in as some of the warmth disappears.

You blink your eyes open, squinting against the harsh blue light of a phone screen. Price lets out a quiet groan, swiping at something before settling his phone back on the nightstand in front of you. His arms wrap back around your middle, his face pressing into the back of your neck as he settles against you again.

It was his phone vibrating that had woken you, pulling you from the gentle arms of sleep. It’s still dark out, far too early to be up and getting phone calls, especially on a Sunday morning. You wonder how often John actually gets to sleep, between his job and everything he does when he’s not away. You’re understanding the couch in his office more and more now.

“Go back to sleep.” He murmurs, a quiet rumbling vibrating against your back as he purrs.

You don’t need to be told twice, snuggling down under the covers again, letting your eyes close.

You wake a while later alone. It’s daylight finally, the sunlight coming through the window lighting the room. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling Price’s scent. It still smells a bit like arousal and sex in the room, both of your scents heavy in the air. They blend together surprisingly well, Price’s musky woody scent mixing with the sweetness of your own scent. It makes an intoxicating aroma of alpha and omega.

Price comes out of the bathroom, slipping back under the covers. You curl up against his side, laying your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

“Morning.” He murmurs, voice heavy with sleep still.

You hum in response, resting your head over his heart.

“How do you feel?” He asks, his fingers trailing your bare back.

“A bit sore.” You say, acknowledging the throbbing between your legs. “Not as bad as I thought I might.”

Price huffs out a laugh. “It shouldn’t hurt, not if you know what you’re doing.”

You hum again, the knowledge that he’s very experienced coming to the forefront of your mind. Even if it has been two years, you can imagine him when he was younger, the kind of experiences he must have had. Omegas and barrack bunnies and all sorts of women probably fawned over him.

“You’re thinking too much.” He says quietly, eyes closed as he lays there with you.

You’re starting to think he might be able to read your mind.

“Can I ask you something? Something...personal?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

He cracks an eye open to stare down at you. “Don’t think you can get much more personal than we already are.” His lips twitch up in a smile. “‘Course, you can ask me anything.”

“When was the last time you helped an omega through a heat?” You ask, listening to the steady thump of his heart under your ear.

“Years ago. Well over a decade ago.” He says, voice still thick and raspy with sleep. He clears his throat, a hand settling on your waist. “Back when I was still a Sergeant. I had the idea back then of settling down, finding an omega and having my own pack. Had a few on and off relationships. Then I started getting sent off on more and more dangerous missions. I realized my skill set and my purpose, and gave up the idea of having an omega. I couldn’t stand the thought of putting them through that, if something happened to me. I’ve seen what losing an alpha does to an omega firsthand too many times.”

A frown tugs at your brows as you lay there against his chest. You know the risk of them dying is high. The CIA had spent ample time warning you of that risk, telling you about how dangerous their lives are and how every assignment, every deployment, could be their last. They could be gone for weeks at a time, months at a time, and they could go and not come back. They know that every time they leave for an assignment it could be their last, and now you’ll be stuck behind knowing they might not be coming back.

You’ve heard about omegas that have lost their alphas, how damaging it can be. It’s not something you’re taught at the institute. That’s not something you’re supposed to think about, something you shouldn’t have to think about.

“What’s eating you?” Price asks softly, his finger stroking the pinched skin between your brows.

You shift against his side, leaning more on his chest as you look up at him. “What if you don’t come back?”

His smile is a bit grim as he stares up at you, his fingers trailing across your face. “I won’t lie and say that’s not a risk. There’s always a chance.” His fingers trail down your arm to rest on your hand where it’s pressed flat against his chest. “We’re here for a reason. We are the best at what we do.”

He pauses as your hand moves, your gaze lowering from his as you trace one of the scars on his clavicle. You can only imagine what caused it. A knife? Shrapnel? Where was he and what was he doing when he got it? You might never be able to know all the details. So many secrets, so much you can’t know.

John wraps his arms around you, easing you off his chest as he rolls you onto your back. You stare up at him as he hovers over you, his hand brushing stray hairs from your face. “Don’t worry too much.” He says, his finger trailing the line of your nose. “We always try our best to make it home. Now we just have an even greater reason to.”

Your hand cups his cheek as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You hum against his mouth, pressing your body closer against his. You can’t help but smile against his lips as his cock hardens against your thigh.

“Again?” You murmur against his lips, making him chuckle.

“Can’t blame me when there’s a beautiful omega naked in my bed.”

Your face burns as he leans back down to kiss you, his hips moving against your thigh. Warmth spreads through your whole body from his scent thickening in the air, his arousal prevalent as he twitches against your leg.

“John.” You moan softly, hands grasping at his back.

You both pause as a door shuts in the hallway, the reminder that the others are just a thin wall away coming back to you. The moment is over as your stomach growls, also reminding you that you’ll need to eat eventually.

John chuckles quietly, leaning up to press a kiss against your forehead. “Come on, let’s get the day started and get some food into you.”

You frown a bit as he pulls away, cock still hard and angry looking as he stands from the bed. “John?” You call out, scrambling off the bed after him. “You’re just gonna...”

“Give it a minute and I’ll be fine.” He says, moving to his closet. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your frown only deepens and you step closer to him, catching him as he turns around. You stare up at him through your lashes, wrapping your hand around his cock. He pauses, letting out a little groan as you squeeze him gently.

“Let me help you.” You say, dragging your hand along his length.

His eyes darken as he stares down at you, the pants in his hand dropping to the floor.

Your face is still a bit flushed as you make your way to the mess. You’re hand in hand with John, dressed comfortably in one of his shirts and a pair of leggings. You can’t help but feel a bit bashful, as if they’re all going to know what you did, as if every soldier in the mess knows you and Price slept together last night.

They’ve probably been thinking that since you arrived.

Price leads you through the line, making your tray for you. You nearly beam with pride at him taking care of you, your omega preening with happiness as he carries your tray and his to the table. You take the spot next to Gaz as usual, still practically beaming.

“Have a good night, love?” Gaz asks, smirking a bit at your pleased state.

“Yeah.” You say, your face getting warm again at their stares.

“Practically glowing, kitten.” Johnny says, winking at you from across the table.

Your face flushes hotter and you quickly bury yourself in your porridge to avoid exploding at the breakfast table.

“Sounded like ye had a great time.” Johnny continues.

Christ, they probably heard the whole thing. You halfway want to sink down beneath the table to hide from their knowing stares. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, not really. They’re your pack, and eventually you’ll be in the same position with them too.

“Didnae know ye had it in ye, kitten.” Johnny continues. “We certainly enjoyed the show.”

You do start to sink down in your seat a bit, surprised steam isn’t rising off your skin from how warm you feel. Gaz’s hand on your leg stops you, his fingers squeezing your thigh gently.

“Don’t pay too much attention to him, love.” Gaz gives you a reassuring smile. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get to go first.”

“Am not.” Johnny whines, practically pouting.

You can’t help but smile a bit at his antics. You know from how much he bragged about getting to be your first kiss that he probably was rather put out that John got to be your first. It would have been that way regardless, but you know you asking John before your heat changed things a bit. It would have always been John, though.

It would have always been your alpha first.

Gaz’s hand doesn't move from your thigh, holding its place there as you all eat, Johnny still pouting a bit. You know they’ll want to pursue that sort of relationship with you after your heat, but now that John’s removed the barrier of the first time as well, you can only expect them to up the teasing tenfold. A shiver runs up your spine at the thought of Gaz sliding his hand slightly higher, fingers slipping between your legs.

You’re certain there has to be steam coming off of you now.

Your thighs squeeze together, trapping Gaz's fingers between them as you continue to try and act normally. Gaz turns his head just slightly, side eyeing you as you continue to try and eat your breakfast as normally as possible. Gaz's grip on your thigh tightens, fingers digging into your skin. You fight the noise threatening to come up as he holds his hand there, continuing to eat his breakfast as if nothing is happening.

You hold Gaz's hand as he walks you back towards the barracks, leaning against his side. His grip around your fingers is tight, not even the rain dampening the heaviness of his scent. It's deeper than usual, the musk of arousal tinging the edges.

Your back meets your door as soon as you're back in the barracks, Gaz pinning you against the wood. Your own breathing is heavy as you stare up at him, his eyes dark as he meets your gaze.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He groans, leaning down to kiss you. It's far more passionate than you've ever kissed him before, his hands sliding down your sides to grip your waist. “Making all those sweet noises last night.” He breathes against your lips. “Haven't seen Price that relaxed in a long time.”

Your face warms at his words, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He presses harder against you, pinning you against the door as his tongue prods at your lips. He tastes like the tea he drank with breakfast, herby and earthy.

“Has us all worked up last night.” He groans against your lips. “Hearing you, knowing our alpha was treating you nice.”

He presses his forehead against yours, staring down at you. You meet his gaze, shivering under the intensity in his deep brown eyes.

“Johnny bout cried he was so worked up.” Gaz's lips twitch in a smile. “Simon left for the gym bout halfway through, had to work out his tension.”

Your brows raise at the news about what Ghost had been up to last night. You figured he might join Johnny in his room, or perhaps head somewhere so he didn't have to hear you. Not that he would leave because he was being affected by you.

“Johnny was being such a whiny little bastard. Had no choice but to take pity on him.” Gaz nips at your jawline playfully. “I fear he's going to be unbearable until he gets his chance.”

“Well, he'll just have to wait his turn.” You say.

Gaz laughs, kissing you again before he takes half a step back, leaning his arm on the door above you. “Any plans today?”

You shrug, still leaning against your door. “Might read, or nap. Maybe both.” You sink your teeth into your lip, reaching back to put your hand on the door handle. “You wanna come in?”

Gaz's grin widens into a smile, his eyes practically sparkling. “Sure.”

You open the door, stepping into your room. It's a bit of a mess from you preparing for your date last night. You toss the clothes from your bed onto the floor haphazardly before pushing Gaz onto the mattress. He kicks off his shoes before making himself comfortable. You toe off your slippers, grabbing your book before joining him on the bed. He pulls you against his side, pulling his phone out of his pocket as you settle against his chest. A quiet content purr begins rumbling in his chest, easing the tension in your body as you relax against him.

You stay like that, reading while cuddling Gaz, for quite a while. Your door is wide open still, the others coming and going as they do on the weekends. Gaz keeps your back to his chest, arm wrapped around his middle as he scrolls on his phone while you read.

Slowly his head starts to droop until it's resting against the top of yours. You can feel the content sleepiness settling into your bones as well, the words on the pages starting to swim a bit. You mark your place, moving just enough to set your book on your nightstand before you curl up against him, letting his even breaths lull you to sleep.

You jolt awake suddenly as Gaz's arms tighten around you, keeping you from flying off the bed. You blink open your bleary eyes, squinting at Johnny's grinning face inches from yours. His body is draped over both yours and Gaz's, a solid weight against you both.

“C'mon ye lazies. Gotta eat lunch eventually.” He says, sounding far too chipper for a Sunday afternoon.

“Fuck off mate.” Gaz says, shoving at Johnny's shoulder. “Was comfy.”

“Yer hogging the omega!” Johnny says, poking Gaz's side. He pushes himself up, scooping you into his arms and lifting you. “Some of us would like tae spend time with ‘er too.”

You yelp at being lifted suddenly, wrapping your arms around Johnny's neck to hold on for dear life.

“Well, maybe you just need to be a little bit faster.” Gaz says, standing from the bed.

“I'm plenty fast.” Johnny almost whines. “Close to beating your time on the course.”

Gaz smirks. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

You look back and forth between them as Gaz steps closer to Johnny, caging you between them.

“And ye will see it.” Johnny says.

“Cheeky.” Gaz murmurs, closing the distance between them.

You stare wide eyed as they kiss just inches in front of your face. It's all tongues and teeth, Soap's chest rumbling against your side as he purrs. A quiet whimper leaves your lips as you watch them, your body starting to get warm again.

They break apart, both turning to look at you. Gaz's lips turn up in a smirk, Johnny's eyes sparkling.

“Look at you, kitten.” Johnny smirks. “Ye like watching us?”

You make another quiet noise, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Johnny slowly lowers you until you're standing between them, Gaz not moving an inch as they trap you in a beta sandwich. Their bodies are warm and solid as you stand there, back to Johnny's chest. You can feel the bulge in his jeans pushing against your ass, Gaz's body a solid weight against your front.

You can imagine it, naked between them, skin against skin with hands everywhere. A quiet purr begins in your chest, eyes dilating as you stare up at Gaz. He smirks down at you, leaning down towards you. He skirts to the side at the last minute though, kissing Johnny behind you.

You can't see them this time but lord can you hear it. Johnny is still purring, the sound vibrating against your back. Gaz let's out a quiet sound, his hand dropping to squeeze your waist.

Johnny pats your side before pulling away. “Should get ye some lunch.”

Your head is still spinning as Gaz hums his approval, stepping away as well. You stand there blinking for a moment at the sudden loss of contact, the sudden shift in energy.

“C'mon, get yer shoes on, sunshine.” Johnny says.

You move half in a daze still towards your bed, your body tingling a bit still from the many thoughts that had been racing through your mind.

Something in the back of your mind begins to itch as you stare down at your bed. Your brows pinch in a frown as you stare down at the mess of blankets and pillows.

It's not right.

Your fingertips twitch as you stare at the mess in your nest, your mind taking over as you begin to rearrange the blankets and pillows. You forget you're not alone in the room as you fuss with the blankets until the itching begins to lessen a bit. You fiddle with the pillows, moving them around over and over again until you're happy with how they're organized, the quiet humming in the back of your mind fading away to nothing.

You sink down on the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath. You feel tired and almost winded after your effort to make sure your nest is just right.

Nest.

You're nesting.

You blink up at Johnny and Gaz, suddenly aware of their presence in your space again. Johnny is staring at you wide eyed, mouth slightly parted in wonder. Gaz has a sparkle in his eye as he grins at you.

You've just built a nest.

“Feel better, love?” Gaz asks, still almost beaming from witnessing you make your nest.

You nod, a sudden weight lifting from your shoulders. You've nested. You're nesting. Everything is going to be okay.

“C'mon.” Johnny says, slipping your slippers back onto your feet. “Let's get lunch in ye.”

You let him help you up, holding both their hands as you make your way from the barracks, a small, relieved smile on your face.

You wake up nauseous.

There’s a clawing feeling in your stomach and you’re not sure why.

It’s early, too early to be up. The sky outside is still dark, and the barracks are quiet. You get up, heading for the bathroom, the gnawing feeling still plaguing your stomach. Cold water on your face doesn't help the light-headedness or the dizziness you’re beginning to feel.

You can’t possibly be sick. You haven’t been around anyone that’s sick. You know heat sickness isn’t a threat right now. There’s no warnings out about possible exposures. It couldn’t be food poisoning. You eat the same things they do.

The gnawing intensifies, your stomach rumbling a bit.

Realization dawns on you suddenly.

You’re hungry.

You’re very hungry.

You check the time on your phone. Three a.m. Still too early for any of the boys to be up, and still a couple hours from when the mess would start serving breakfast. You head for the rec room, hoping there’s at least something in there to tide you over until breakfast.

You dig through the cabinets, plenty of tea and a couple packets of instant coffee you know belong to Johnny. You dig out a couple protein bars, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge before taking a seat on the couch.

The protein bars aren’t great. They don’t taste good, but you’re so hungry you don’t care. You down them quickly and the entire bottle of water. For a moment you feel relief, the gnawing in your stomach easing. You head back to bed, slipping back into your room quietly.

You toss and turn, unable to go back to sleep as the gnawing begins in your stomach once more. You let out a quiet sound, muffled by your pillow as you lay there, knowing you still have a long time until they’ll come and get you for breakfast.

The thought makes you almost want to cry.

You’re waiting as soon as they knock, narrowly avoiding Johnny’s hand as you open the door mid-knock. The bright look in his eyes fades as he stares at you. You know you look miserable, maybe a little sick, even. You feel worse, your stomach twisting and gnawing. Those protein bars four hours ago hadn’t been nearly enough.

“Ye alright, kitten?” He asks, a frown marring his face.

“Hungry.” You all but whine, slipping out the door, closing it behind you.

“Ye hungry, kitten? Ye could have said somethin’ sooner. Coulda brought ye somethin’.” Johnny says, following you down the hall.

You’re determined to get real food and you’re not about to let anything get in your way. You feel ravenous, despite the fact you’d had a good dinner the night before.

Maybe it hadn’t been enough.

You make your own tray this time, loading on more than you usually do. You take your normal spot between Price and Gaz, all four of them eyeing your tray as you happily dig in.

“Hungry, love?” Price asks, watching you spoon huge mouthfuls of porridge into your mouth.

You nod, chewing quickly before spooning more in. It tastes delicious, something you never thought you would say about British food.

They all watch in awe as you clear your tray, eating every last crumb, having to refrain from licking it clean. Finally, for the first time since you went to bed last night, you feel full and satisfied.

“Damn. Putting us to shame.” Gaz says, staring at your empty, nearly clean tray.

You grow bashful under their stares, realizing you not only out ate them, you also finished first. “I was hungry.” You say, fiddling with your fork.

“No kidding.” Ghost huffs out, all of them finishing up their trays.

You’re in a far better mood leaving the mess than you were entering it, the sweet relief of being full after hours of gnawing hunger making you feel almost giddy. Ghost walks you back to the barracks, walking slow enough you can easily keep up with him. So slow, your arm brushes his as you walk next to him.

“Sorry.” You say, moving a step away from him. You’re so used to standing directly next to the others, you’ve forgotten Ghost prefers his personal space.

He stares down at you for a moment but doesn’t say anything, holding the door to the barracks open for you. He stands just inside the door, watching you make your way down the hallway to your room. He waits for the click of the lock before he turns, leaving you alone in the barracks again.

You settle into your usual routine of laying in your nest and reading, the giddiness starting to wear off as the time passes. You make it until ten a.m. when the gnawing hunger begins to return. You let out an annoyed whine, dropping your book to the floor as you roll onto your stomach.

You want to cry and scream at the same time, watching the clock tick by on your phone. You’re tired of being so hungry, and what’s worse, you don’t even know why. You’re just ravenous and you can’t think of a reason.

Lunch can’t come soon enough, and you find yourself struggling through the afternoon just as much. It’s almost like your body is on a timer and every two hours you’re suddenly starving, as if you haven’t eaten all day. You eat just as much as you did at breakfast, scarfing down food like you’re a starving animal.

You certainly feel like one.

You head to the rec room after dinner, Ghost and Johnny joining you. Johnny takes the seat next to you on the couch, draping his arm behind you as Ghost takes his usual spot in the chair.

You curl up against Johnny’s side, watching whatever he decides to put on TV half-heartedly. You’re waiting for the inevitable, the gnawing hunger to creep up on you again.

It does, roughly two hours into your time in the rec room.

You shift against Johnny, pressing against his side more as you try to ignore the hunger burning through you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, holding you against him. You breathe in his scent, letting the citrusy scent of him wash over you.

It only serves to make you more hungry.

You let out a quiet whine, trying to get closer to him. Tears prick at your eyes as you know there’s no relief coming. There’s no more meals until tomorrow. You’ll have to go all night before you can eat again, before you can relieve the hunger. You’re not sure you’ll make it that long. You might perish in the middle of the night, or become violently ill. Perhaps both.

You let out another quiet whine, standing from the couch. You can’t take it anymore, both Johnny and Ghost watching you as you head for the cabinets, kneeling on the floor and rummaging through everything, desperate to find another protein bar or anything.

“What are you doing?” Ghost asks, staring at you as you’re halfway in the cabinet, checking every last corner.

“Hungry!” You snap, half considering eating one of the tea bags just for something.

You’ve just closed the cabinet door in irritation when an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you from the floor. You let out a yelp, Ghost carrying you easily back to the couch.

“Stay.” He says after dropping you back next to Johnny. “I’ll be back.”

Johnny wraps his arms around you as you pout, nearly in tears from how frustrated you are. You’re just so hungry.

“Easy, kitten.” Johnny says, pulling you back against his chest.

You nuzzle into him, curling up into a ball against his side. He starts purring quietly, trying to soothe you while you wait for Ghost to return. You can’t pay attention to the TV, Johnny trying to change the channel every time a food related commercial comes on.

You’re nearly shaking when Ghost returns, arms full of snacks. Your eyes widen as he dumps them on the coffee table, pushing yourself up from Johnny’s chest.

“Where did you get these?” You ask, dropping to your knees on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“Vending machine in the mess.” Ghost answers, sitting back down in his chair.

You stare at him teary eyed, sniffling a little. “Thank you.”

He grunts in response, turning his gaze back to the TV as you reach for a bag of chips.

You can barely even taste it as you kneel there on the floor, basking in the first taste of sweet relief from a bag of salt and vinegar chips. You grab them by the handful, burning through the small, snack sized bag quickly.

You’ve barely finished chewing when you’re reaching for a candybar, a sudden realization striking you as your brain begins to regain the ability to think now that it knows relief is coming. You stare at the purple Cadbury on the front of the packaging, your fingers trembling as you hold the candybar.

You take a deep breath, quickly opening the wrapper before taking a bit, sitting back on your heels as you chew. “Well, shit.”

“I know, I hate the exam rooms too.” Dr. Keller says, flipping through her clipboard. “Too clinical and sterile looking.” She lifts your hand, removing the pulse monitor from your finger. “A little higher than normal.” She says, writing something down on the clipboard.

She takes your blood pressure and temperature, writing both down on the clipboard.

“Temperature is still normal.” She says. “How have you been feeling?”

“Hungry.” You say, picking at the thin fabric of the hospital gown you’ve been forced into. “Ravenously hungry and clingy.” You continue. “A bit more emotional than normal too.”

Dr. Keller nods, writing all of it down. “Normal things for your pre-heat, according to your file. Anything out of the ordinary? Aches and pains? Any nausea or vomiting, not related to hunger?”

You shake your head. “No. Kinda sleepy all the time too, but the hunger makes it hard to sleep.”

Dr. Keller nods. “That’s normal. Your body is preparing for a few days of very little caloric intake and little rest. I’d say you’re exhibiting all the signs of pre-heat. You’re right on time, as expected.” She gives you a little smile. “Judging by your vitals you still have a few days before the full heat symptoms begin. Any questions?”

“What do institutes do for heats?” John asks where he’s sitting to the side of the exam table.

“It depends on the institute.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you.

“FIOT rotated between sedation and isolation.” You say, not really wanting to think back on the heats you had gone through at the institute. “Sedation for the full heat, or shutting us in private rooms for a week to ride out the symptoms alone to avoid triggering heats in the other omegas.”

“Neither are great, but in that sort of environment there’s not a lot that can be done. Sedation is the better of the two, though it can still be disorienting. Isolation is painful and risky, especially if proper care isn’t given.” Dr. Keller says.

“Is sedation an option for the future?” Price asks.

You turn to look at him, before looking back at Dr. Keller.

“It’s something we can explore. I know it can’t be expected of you to be here for every heat. We can start exploring some alternatives after this heat is over and I have a better idea of what they’re going to look like.” Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Now, I’d like to do a little exam just to give me a baseline for after your heat when I check for any abnormalities or injuries.”

She directs you to lay down on the exam table and put your feet in the stirrups. You suddenly feel nervous, her words doing little to calm you. John appears in your peripheral, slipping his hand into yours.

“Is that a risk?” You ask as Dr. Keller pulls a clean pair of gloves on.

“Only a small one.” She says, standing at the end of the table. “I know you’ve probably heard all the horror stories, but those are only really concerns with inexperienced alphas who have never helped an omega through a heat before, especially those who had limited exposure to omegas in general.” She smiles at you. “You’re in good hands, my dear.”

She does her exam, letting you sit up once she’s finished. John helps you up, still holding your hand. Dr. Keller’s words do ease your concerns just a bit, but you can’t help the images flashing through your mind, the horror stories of mutilations and even deaths. You trust Price to take care of you, but at the same time, you won’t know until it’s over.

“Everything looks good.” She says. “The best thing you can do right now is try to satiate the pre-heat symptoms and take this time to make sure everything is ready and in place for when the full heat begins. Don’t worry too much.” She looks pointedly at you. “I’ll be on call and ready should something happen.” Her gaze turns to John. “Your beta knows what to look out for, right?”

John nods. “Kyle has been doing a lot of research. He knows what to do.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller says, looking back at you. “Why don’t you get dressed, then we can go back to my office where it’s more comfortable and talk some more.”

Dr. Keller leaves you alone in the room, Price helping you change back into your normal clothes, leaving the room with you. You turn to look up at him, Dr. Keller waiting for you near her office door.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Price says, leaning down towards you.

“Yeah.” You say, standing up on your toes to kiss him.

You try to ignore the look on Dr. Keller’s face as you walk past her and into her office, your face warming a bit in response. You take your normal seat, trying to get comfortable despite your bashfulness.

“You and Captain Price seem a lot closer.” Dr. Keller says as she sits across from you on the couch.

You nod. “Yeah. We, uh, we have gotten closer.” You chew on your lip. “We slept together...on Saturday night. Had a date, he cooked dinner. Then we...did it.”

Dr. Keller’s brows raise at your words, her face surprised. “Oh? Is that so? Is that something you wanted?”

You nod. “I asked him if he’d do it. I wanted my first time to be when I could remember it...before I would feel like it was something that had to be done.”

Dr. Keller hums, writing something down. “Did you have fun?”

Your face warms at her words, and you halfway wish the chair would swallow you whole. You nod, hiding your fingers beneath your sleeves again. “Yeah. I uh, started nesting too.”

Dr. Keller’s face breaks out into a huge smile. “That’s great! That’s fantastic news! Perfect timing too.”

You nod. “Yeah. Started on Sunday. Been feeling it since.”

“Good. That gives us one less thing to worry about.” She sets her notebook aside, crossing her legs as she stares at you. “How do you feel about your heat coming so soon?”

“Nervous.” You answer honestly.

“It can be a bit daunting, I’d imagine, your first heat with an alpha. Captain Price knows what he’s doing, though. He and Sergeant Garrick will take good care of you.”

“I know.” You say, fiddling with your sleeves. “It’s still scary. A lot of things can happen and...what if one of them does?”

“It’s not very likely.” Dr. Keller reassures you. “Captain Price knows what he’s doing. He’s experienced with omegas and heats and the likelihood of him losing control is small, even after so long without any contact with an omega. It sounds like Sergeant Garrick has educated himself on things to look for, and what to do to help. I’ll be ready and on call the entire time as well. I’ll make regular check-ins with Sergeant Garrick too, to make sure everything is going smoothly. You’re not alone in this. We’ll all make sure you’re well taken care of. I know it’s a lot to ask you to trust people that are still somewhat strangers, but we all have your best interests in mind here.”

“I know.” You say quietly. “It’s hard, not knowing much of anything. They tell you everything you should expect at the institute over and over again, then you get in it and everything is different. Nothing is like it should be. Nothing like they said. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I know. You were prepared for one life and got an entirely different one. Lucky for you, though, you’re surrounded by very understanding people who are more than happy to help you. I know this is so far from ideal for you, but I think you’re doing a fantastic job with what you were handed.”

You stare at your hands, thinking over her words. John’s called you a good omega before. He’s called you that a few times. He thinks you’re doing a good job, despite the fact you feel like none of your skills are useful here. Despite the fact you feel like you haven’t been trying.

You think over everything they’ve done for you, how hard they’ve tried to help make you as comfortable as possible. She’s right. They’re all so understanding and you know they like you. You can see it in their reactions to you, you can smell it on them. You know Gaz won’t let anything happen to you, even if something goes wrong.

They have yet to prove themselves untrustworthy, for the most part.

Maybe you really don’t have anything to worry about.

“Come on.” Ghost says, standing in your doorway. You almost don't recognize him in a beanie and surgical mask instead of his usual balaclava. “Get shoes on, and let’s go.”

“Go where?” You ask, sitting up on your bed.

“Shopping.” He says, before turning on his heel.

You frown, but do as he says, slipping on comfortable shoes and grabbing your phone. You head down the hall towards the door, a familiar car parked outside. Price and Ghost are waiting next to the car, both dressed in civilian clothes. You approach them hesitantly, suddenly feeling intimidated in the presence of the two alphas. You know you have nothing to worry about, but this is the first time you'll be alone with both of them.

Ghost steps up to you, a bottle in his hand. You barely have time to hold your breath before he sprays you down with scent blocker, the harsh chemicals burning your nose as they settle on your skin and cut off your scent. It's necessary, even with two alphas around you.

“Ready?” John asks, letting his eyes scan over your form for a second. He could probably pick up on your tension and uneasy energy from a mile away.

“Can...Can I ask why?” You ask as John opens the back door for you.

“Well, we can't have you starving to death on us, can we?” John smiles. “And we need to get a few things for your heat.”

“Oh.” You say, blinking up at him.

“Hop in. Hopefully we can get the shopping done before dinner.” John says.

Before you get hungry again.

You climb in the backseat, John closing the door before getting in the driver's side. Ghost is already in the passenger seat, buckled in and ready.

You sit and watch the landscape pass by, the car quiet except for the radio. The contrast between the two betas and the two alphas is almost as distinct as night and day. Johnny and Gaz had talked almost nonstop the entire drive to and back from town. Ghost and Price seem content in their silence, Ghost watching the landscape pass just like you.

It speaks volumes of their trust and ease with each other.

The farmlands turn to city and you find yourself back at Asda again. You hold John's hand as you walk, Ghost taking your other side, sandwiching you between them. People stare as you pass, their eyes on Ghost, but he doesn't even seem to notice.

You stick close to John as you walk through the store, picking up items you'll need for your heat, as well as some other things. Ghost follows like a shadow, people giving you a wide berth when they spot him. You're almost grateful for it. You swear some of them can tell you're about to start your heat, their eyes burning into you as they pass.

You can feel the beginnings of hunger starting to creep in as you walk down the bed liner aisle. You know if you weren't starting to get hungry, you would have been close to combusting from the knowledge of why this aisle was necessary.

You let out a sigh, leaning your head against John's arm as he crosses the bed liner off the list.

“What?” He asks, amusement in his voice.

“You know what I miss?” You say, wrapping your arms around one of his. “Good authentic Mexican food.”

The corner of John's lips lift in a smile. “Yeah? You getting hungry again?”

You nod, a subtle whine to your tone. “Yeah.”

John turns to look at Ghost, the two alphas having a seconds long silent conversation before Ghost heads off, disappearing from the aisle.

“Where's he going?” You ask.

“Getting a head start on the other supplies for your heat.” John says. “Just a couple more things, then your snacks and we'll be done and we'll get some dinner.”

You stop as you turn the corner around the end of the aisle, your eyes spotting a giant teddy bear. It looks soft and squishy, your pre-heat addled brain already picturing the perfect spot for it in your nest.

“You want it?” John asks, looking between you and the bear.

You snap back into reality for a moment, glancing up at the price. You nearly die on the spot, shaking your head. “I-I don't...”

John turns you to face him, speaking firmly. “Do you want it?”

You stare up into his eyes, nodding slowly.

His gaze softens just a bit, a smile tugging at his lips. “Then grab it.”

You're moving before you can even have a second thought, wrapping your arms around it and lifting it off the shelf. It's just as soft as you thought it would be, nearly as big as you are too. You can imagine cuddling it in your nest, napping contently, surrounded in soft plushness.

“C'mon pup.” John says, patting your back gently. You're purring, you realize suddenly, the sound leaving you entirely unconsciously. “Let's get you some snacks then we'll get dinner.”

You carry the bear, following John to the grocery section of the store. He takes you to the snack aisle and you pass the bear off to him, grabbing anything and everything that looks good, loading up the cart. You grab a few things from the American section as well, snacks you didn't think you'd miss, but right now they sound like manna straight from heaven.

“Simon's done with his part.” John says, glancing at his phone. “We'll meet back at the car.”

You take the bear back once you're done filling the cart with snacks, heading towards the checkout. You're hesitant to let the bear go long enough to be scanned before you're holding it again, purring quietly and contently.

John keeps his arm around you as you walk through the parking lot towards the car. There's already bags in the trunk from Ghost, the alpha already in the passenger seat. They must have both been carrying keys to the car. Safety precautions. Things most people wouldn't even think about.

“Thank you.” You say as John fills the trunk with the rest of the bags. “You didn't have to do this.”

“Yes we did.” John says, looking down at you. “Not going let you starve like that if we can help it.”

“It's still strange to me, getting taken care of.” You say, squeezing the bear. “Still makes me feel a bit like a sugar baby.”

John chuckles. “Don't worry, I won't make you call me daddy.” He leans in close to your ear. “Unless you want to.”

Your face burns hot, your entire body igniting with heat at his words. He gives you a gentle pat on the ass, directing you to the door of the car before taking the cart back to the store.

Your face is still burning as you attempt to climb into the car with your bear, giving up and stuffing it in first.

“What the hell is that?” Ghosts asks, turning to look at you.

“My new bear.” You respond, arranging the bear so its sitting in the seat beside you.

“Christ.” He breathes, and you can practically hear the eye roll as you buckle the bear in.

You buckle yourself in as John climbs in the driver's seat.

“All set?” He asks, turning to look at you.

You nod, smiling happily despite the hunger eating away at you.

“Let's get some dinner, then we'll head back to base.” John says, turning on the car. “Can't have our omega starving on us, can we?”

Ghost snorts. “Best feed her before she decides we look appetizing.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You'd be too gamey, Ghost.” You say, eyeing him before turning your gaze to the seat in front of you. “John, though...” You lick your lips. “I already know you taste good.”

John lets out a deep chuckle that rumbles with the edge of a pleased growl. “Easy, kitten.”

Ghost lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. “Spare me. Now there's two of ‘em.”

John chuckles again, squeezing Ghost's shoulder. “Little did you know, Simon.”

Ghost turns to look at John. “Is it too late to get a refund?”

You stifle a giggle as John smiles. “You'll have to ask Laswell.”

Ghost sighs, turning to look out the window. “No hope for it, then.”

“Hey, at least I'm cute!” You grin. “Don't tell Johnny I said that.”

You practically beam with pride as you see Ghost's shoulders shake with his laughter. Maybe you can get through to him more than you think you can.

Maybe, just maybe, you can get him to like you.

The knock comes at your door unexpectedly. It's late, and you had just begun to feel the pangs of hunger once more. You hate it, but you know it's necessary considering you'll have to go roughly a week getting in nothing but what nutrient bars can offer while exerting insane amounts of energy. Your body needs to store the calories now so that you don't die during your heat.

You're surprised to see Ghost on the other side of the door, back in his balaclava. His shoulders are squared, but you can't scent any anger or hostility on him.

He almost seems...nervous.

“Hungry?” He asks, staring down at you.

“Always.” You answer almost instinctively, staring up into his deep brown eyes.

He motions for you to follow with his head. “C'mon.”

You frown a little, but you step out of your room, closing the door behind you. You follow him towards the rec room, staring at his broad back. His shoulders are still squared, hands in his pockets.

The rec room is set up again not unlike it was for your date with John. The card table is out and there's foil covered dishes on it, along with a couple plates. Your brows raise in surprise as you take it all in.

“I made you something.” Ghost says, moving over to the table, removing the foil from one of the dishes.

You move closer, blinking in surprise. “You made...enchiladas?”

He nods. “As close as I could get with what I could find on short notice. There's rice and beans, too. And salsa.”

Tears blur your vision as you stare down at the food on the table. It smells delicious and that's not just your ravenous pre-heat hunger talking. “You...did this for me?”

“Well, I had help,” He says, looking past you.

You turn, Soap and Gaz standing at the windows that frame the door to the rec room. They smile and wave at you as you turn to look at them. A quiet laugh leaves your mouth as you smile at them.

“Help yourself.” Ghost says as you turn back to the table. “There's plenty.”

You serve yourself a plate, nearly melting off the chair as you take the first bite. It takes you all the way back home, the good years when your father was stationed in Texas.

“Taste okay?” Ghost asks, watching you. “I know it's not authentic, but I did a lot of research.”

“It's amazing, Ghost. Really.” You say. “Tastes just like the ones my mom would make.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

He shrugs, looking almost bashful. “It's the least I could do. I know how big of a deal heats are to omegas and how nervous you've been. Thought you could use a little comfort.”

You smile softly. “That means a lot.” You can't help but giggle softly. “I knew you liked me deep down.”

He gives you a look, making you giggle even more. “Don't push it.”

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit, @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash@lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami, @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle, @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons, @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff, @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10, @cassiecasluciluce @darling006@sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages@scythemood @daniblogs164, @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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moonyflesh · 2 months

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What if Wolverine took you to a hockey game?

WARNINGS: (not much). no smut- just a playful set of imagines/headcannons — very fluffy and ‘lovey-dovey’ (small kisses and cursing).

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (‘Wolverine’) - (MARVEL/X-MEN)

🍺 .*.. 🏒

- At first you thought he was joking.

- i mean- can you imagine trying to squeeze his massive frame into one of those tiny, plastic stadium chairs?

- sure you know nothing about the “Calgary Flames”, but supporting the beast either way is entertaining enough as it is—

- (^) literally the worst person to sit around. he’s loud, obnoxious, (big), and curses like there’s no tomorrow.

- “fuckin- can you fuckin’ believe these pieces ‘uh shit? i totally could’ve fuckin’ made that fuckin’ shot. buncha’ bullshit ifya ask me.”

- he’s definitely big on stadium snacks. constantly has to get up and get more food (and beer).

- (^) the bar would 100% have to draw a limit on the amount of beer they can physically sell him.

- probably walks you through the basic rules of ice hockey, and/or the different players, and the fan-favorites.

- little forehead or cheek kisses when he needs to run to go to the bathroom or grab more food.

- one of his arms is slung around your shoulders at all times.

- throughout the game, he’s constantly glancing over at you- reading your facial expressions. are you enjoying yourself? do you know what’s happening? is this entertaining for you, too?

- definitely likes to show you (and your jersey) off.

- (^) forced you to wear a Flames jersey (that’s much to large on you) and is proud of you for “pickin’ the right fuckin’ team”— so what? at least you get his undivided attention.

- puts you on his shoulders so you both have a better chance of getting on the big screen.

- (^) and if you do? jesus, it makes his whole month. the second that camera pans to you two he’s already tongue-deep into your mouth, grinning like an idiot as you try to push him away from embarrassment.

- you totally go to the photo booth and take the most grainy, out-of-focus pictures known to man together in some shitty ice rink backdrop, (to which he insists you look beautiful- and sticks the entirety of the photo into his wallet).

- buys you a shitload of merch, including one of the collectible hockey pucks.

- claims to know some of the players personally (he’s never met any of them outside of the rink).

- distinctly shouts out each player’s first and last names when cheering them on.

- boos the other team, and their fans with zero shame whatsoever.

- the drive home depends on the outcome of the game.

- (^) The Flames lose? he’s not even mad- he’s just disappointed that that was all his team could manage for your first game. he promises to take you to more, though.

- (^) and if they win? he’s already discussing the ticket prices for the next game (if you’re willing to go with him again); excited grins tossed your way here and there as he makes sure you’re paying attention.

@trenchcoathunnybee08 this is dedicated to you! Sorry it took so long to finally get out (in some ways, it’s still a WIP). 🫶🏼

((if any of you would like to be added to my taglist, let me know through my inbox.))

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eowynstwin · 5 months

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I know we all like to cast Price as assigned husband at birth (ahab if you will) but lately I’ve been getting more into the idea of older bf! Price who’s already failed one marriage.

Like, he and his ex are cordial, but there were too many hurt feelings at the end for them to ever feel comfortable being friends. Price isn’t the one who asked to split, but he didn’t fight it either—he knows he’s hard to love. He knows his job is too much for anyone sane to deal with.

He resigns himself to divorced life and tries to be happy.

Then, he meets you. A cute young thing with the sparkle still in your eye. Maybe at the grocery store, or at a restaurant with only the two of you in it. He feels his broken heart beat a little. He tells himself to leave it—you’re too nice, too good for him to spoil. He fails, and three months later there’s a drawer in his bedroom stuffed with your clothes and a set of your toiletries in his bathroom.

It isn’t like his first serious relationship. The age gap between you and him is substantial enough that you grew up in a world very different from his; you aren’t fussing about meeting parents, or five-year plans, or how many kids he isn’t giving you. Maybe it’s because you don’t take this as seriously as him—he doesn’t know.

What he does know is that it’s his name you’re crying out when he’s got you in his bed, knees pressed up to your ears. What he does know is that he likes making you breakfast when you stay over. What he does know is that he’s the one you call when your door starts scraping the frame, or your tires need rotating, or you’re lonely and you want some company while some trash TV plays in the background.

He may have screwed up his first marriage, but certificate or no, he’s learned enough how not to fuck up his second.

#price x reader #madi writes #mwritesprice

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moongreenlight · 11 months

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Have you ever seen that corny ass skit where it’s the girl talking to her husband asking him to fix things and he says “I’m not a plumber” “I’m not a carpenter” bla bla bla and then one day he comes home and the girl’s like “oh yeah I had the neighbor come over to fix the things you wouldn’t” and the neighbor says she can either bake him a cake or sleep with him as payment so the husband asks “so what kind of cake did you bake him?” And the girl says “I’m not a baker?”

Very much Neighbor!Price x stay-at-home-mom!reader coded :)

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Neighbor!Price who’s found a quiet little cul-de-sac to settle in when he’s got some time off. It’s a little neighborhood, mostly older people who’re thrilled to have a man like him around to help bring out bins and offer to mow their lawns or rake their leaves or shovel their drives when he’s around.

But somehow he’s found the only other younger family in the area living directly next to him. Parents are a few years his junior, and they’ve got two young kids. He assumes the boy, the older one, is early elementary age- sees you herding him into the car in the morning with a pack lunch and a backpack that’s nearly the same size as he is to and from the house in the morning and afternoon. And the girl, the younger, must be in pre-k, because she’s only out for half the day and doesn’t get the same pack lunch her brother gets.

He’s gotten to know you pretty well. When he’s around, the two of you will chat while you’re tending your garden and he’s working in his garage carrying out some odd project or another. He thinks you’re sweet. Likes the way you wear overalls with a little top when you’re planting flowers in the beds out front. How when you bend over or stand at the right angle he can imagine you’re not wearing a top at all.

He hates your husband. He’s crass and rude and never waves hello to any of the neighbors- odd for such a friendly little community. Leaves for work early and comes home late and leaves you to fend for yourself all day. Doesn’t know how to interact with you or your kids. And Price is almost certain he doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked because his bedroom window looks over your living room and he’s caught you on the couch with your hand down your pants more times than could have been coincidence.

He’s known to be the neighborhood handyman. Got a little workshop set up in his garage and a general knowledge about nearly everything, so it’s not uncommon that he gets a knock on the door a few times a week. Usually it’s some of the older neighbors popping over to see if he can fix their TVs or help their grandkids connect to the Wi-Fi, but it’s a pleasant surprise when you turn up on his porch mid-morning.

You’re scrunching the ends of your soaking wet hair in a towel. Apologizing as soon as you hear him turn the deadbolt. Feverishly going on about how you must have blown a circuit in the bathroom trying to dry your hair and you’d usually be able to manage but your husband shoved a bookshelf in front of the breaker and you can’t get through to it.

He’s sweet about it. Always is, but especially for you. Follows you over to your place and promises you no less than ten times that it’s really no trouble. He’s happy to help. It’s a quick fix, but he drags it out as long as he can. Insists on following you up and down the stairs from the basement to the top floor twice to make sure everything’s working properly.

He notices that the bathroom door sticks and that the fire alarm in the hallway is chirping from a low battery. You apologize for the toys in the living room and the clean laundry pile on the couch and the state of your house. Say that your husband is racking up a hefty to-do list with a small laugh that’s just a bit too forced.

He’s thrilled to tell you that he’s got some free time later in the week and says he’ll come over if only to help out your husband. Makes some backhanded remark about how your husband is clearly a busy lad. You refuse- of course- sweet thing that you are, but he turns up the next day after you’ve taken your kids to school anyway.

He tails you up the drive so there’s no way you can shut him out. Shushes you when you try to apologize for one reason or another and takes off to fix not only the sticky bathroom door and the fire alarm batteries, but also the dripping kitchen faucet and the garbage disposal that’s been broken for months.

You try to stay clear of whatever room he’s working in, chirping short responses to whatever nonsense question he asked in an attempt to lure you over. It was only when he was about to head out and he saw you leaning on the dryer to keep it shut that he saw his golden opportunity.

You were clearly trying to hide it, but even with a small load of clothes in, it sounded like you’d thrown a pair of boots into a tin garbage pail and shook it hard as you could. You tried to shoo him off, but he wasn’t having any of it.

There’s enough skirting around the subject to give you chance to turn down his advances, but when he realizes you’re not outright telling him to go fuck himself, he’s essentially taking it as a challenge to see if he can’t push you to that point.

Hoists you up on the still clanging machine and pushes between your legs on the weak pretense of needing you there to keep the door shut while he works. The machine shook the straps of your top down off your shoulders and made him acutely aware of the fact that you hadn’t had the time to put on a bra yet. It made his pants near painfully tight on the crotch.

He’d try and make idle chat. Your kids and plans for the day, but it’s entirely too hard for him to focus on anything other than the way your thighs are pressing together as the dry cycle started to bang the machine around more. He makes a light comment about how he’s not sure how you get anything done around the house with the dryer in this state. Your laugh is breathy.

And when he leans over you to reach to the back of the machine, he can feel the way your soft panting breaths fan his neck. Confirms his suspicions.

“Alright?”

You’re chewing the inside of your lip while you nod. Clearly starved for stimulation if all it takes is a dry cycle to get you off. Poor thing.

It’s stuffy in the laundry room. Adds to the appeal. Makes your shorts ride up and stick to your legs. Your thighs are dewy and glide together when you shift under his gaze.

“You sure, doll?”

The two of you are almost nose-to-nose. You’re leaned back, caged in by his big arms that look even bigger in his almost obscenely tight shirt. He’s smiling. Letting his eyes wander to your collarbones. The way your throat bobbed when you swallowed.

Before you could choke out your answer, the dryer stopped. Chimed the alert and slowly stilled. You took a shaky breath and nodded once more, looking like you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. He backed off, stretched out his hand to help you down.

You lead him to the kitchen. Ask if you can get him anything. Tea or food. He declines. You say something about stopping to get cash when you’re out picking up your daughter in a couple hours. He declines again.

“John, really, I appreciate your help. You have to let me get you back.”

You’re filling the kettle with water anyway, leaned just slightly over the sink. He knows it’s impolite to stare, but he’s never had very good manners when it came to things like that.

“Bake me a cake or somethin’, then. Sleep with me. Won’t take your money, though.”

You whirl around and end up sloshing some water down your front. Doesn’t seem to phase you. Your eyebrows are damn near at your hairline.

“I don’t know if that’s appropriate, considering…”

He snorts a soft laugh. It’s kind- not at all suggestive. Like he’s playing off a clever joke.

“What? Baking me a cake?”

You purse your lips and set the kettle on the stove.

“Never been a very good baker.”

He about hurdles the kitchen island like he’s running track.

“That right?”

You make a thoughtful sound before clicking on the burner. He can see you biting back a smile. You finally turn to face him. Leaned back on your hands with your head cocked slightly to the side.

“I just don’t know that it would be appropriate given our- my- situation.”

It’s his turn to hum and nod. Take a few steps forward, slow and slinky like a predator stalking toward its prey.

“Sure.”

You chew your bottom lip. Try to find some resolve in fussing with your wedding ring. It’s horrible. Small. He can’t help but think about how he’d be able to get you a much better one. He takes a few more steps forward.

“It’s complicated, John.”

Your voice is mousy now.

“I know.”

A few more steps forward and he’s back nose-to-nose with you. Pinning you against the counter.

“I just-“

“Then tell me to go home.”

The button of his jeans grazes your groin and sends sparks up your spine. You recoil slightly, but he’s got his massive hands on your wrists to keep you in place.

“My husb-“

“Don’t. S’not what I said. Tell me to go home. Tell me to go home, and I’ll leave. S’easy as that.”

The coarse hair of his beard brushes along your jaw. Visible goosebumps rise all the way up your neck and down your arms.

“John, he-“

A throaty growl from him.

“He’s not getting a lick of you.”

And then somehow he’s got you on your back on the couch. Shoved off the pile of laundry and pushed you down. His eyes are near pitch black and hungry. Ravenous. He tears off your shorts. Doesn’t wait for you to hoist your hips, just yanks so hard that you’re a little worried you’ll get thrown off the couch with them.

He is wretched. Planting wet kisses from the inside of your knee all the way up to your sex frustratingly slow. Big hands splayed over your hips to keep you from bucking up into his mouth. He’s got this maddeningly smug smile on his face like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to say I told you so. Like he knew this was going to happen from the start, you were just too stupid to see.

Your underwear is embarrassingly wet from your little go on the dryer. Your pussy puffy and sensitive underneath. You whine when he kisses over the damp spot. Laves his tongue over your folds without pulling them to the side. He makes some comment about the state of you that borders on snarky, but you choose to ignore it.

When he finally does rid you of your panties, there’s a moment of clarity where you realize what you’re doing. You push up on your elbows and try to roll out from under him, but he gives your clit a mean slap that forces you back onto the couch and ends your protest. Sends you to that liminal, clouded headspace where all you can focus on is how desperately you need to come.

It’s clear he’s savoring the moment. Running the point of his tongue through your folds. Teasing at your hole. Artfully swirling around your clit, but never close enough to give you the friction you’re so desperately craving. Planting hot, wet kisses on your inner thighs. Leaves a few love bites in his wake like he’s boasting; so certain your husband wouldn’t get close enough to notice that he had no problem decorating you as he pleased.

You’re a mess. Being taken apart stitch by stitch. Panting and whining and begging for more. Your orgasm is coiling tight under your belly without him having to do much. Any other time you’d have felt a little pathetic, but you were too preoccupied to care now.

He finally brings his hands up and you think he’s about to stuff you full, but he only lets his fingers drag slowly along your sensitive sex. Collects some of your arousal and pulls it up toward your naval. Watches the goosebumps form under his touch.

He rucks your shirt up with his free hand and immediately wraps his lips around your pebbled nipples. Tongues at them. Lets his teeth graze teasingly over them. And whatever one he’s not got currently in his mouth, he’s working his fingers over. Pinching and flicking until you’re teary eyed and squirming under him.

And then finally, fucking finally, he ducks back down and fixes his mouth on your clit. Sucks gently on the swollen bud for just a moment and then companies his mouth with two fingers bullying their way inside you.

The stretch is almost uncomfortable in its suddenness, but you quickly get used to it. The pleasure is blinding. Forces you to throw your head back against the cushion and screw your eyes tightly shut. A string of high, needy moans float through your gaped lips.

He’s sweet, Jesus, is he. Hums and groans with his mouth still on your bundle of nerves. Pulls away just enough to tell you how pretty your pussy is taking him before going back to work on your sensitive clit. You want to scream. You think you may actually come entirely undone on this couch if he doesn’t stop.

And then your orgasm coils so tightly within you that it explodes outward. Tears through you and leaves every square inch of your skin sizzling. He doesn’t let up. Pins you down by the stomach with his forearm and continues down his warpath. The sounds his fingers make when they sink into you are so pornographic that it makes your face hot.

You eventually find it in you to warble out something that sounded like please, too much. And he pulled off, still with that smug grin pulling his lips now surrounded by glistening slick caught in the hair of his beard.

He gives you one last kiss. Lewd and wet and so searing hot you’re worried it will actually blister the sensitive flesh of your cunt. He’ll sit back on his haunches and fuss with the button and zipper of his jeans before saying something horrible and cheeky like

“C’mon, doll. Thought you were set on payin’ me back.”

#he sees a family with a present but shitty father and says ‘it’s free real estate’ I hate him #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #captain price smut #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #price cod #john price #cod price #141 x reader #x reader

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zbdjjsjwjajba · 2 years

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man i want a house so bad THIS SUCKS HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET MY OWN HOME IN THIS ECONOMY

#:(#AAAAA THIS SUCKS #IVE LOOKED AT THE PRICES #cant even live alone either and i wouldn't mind living w a friend but man id hate living w a stranger i have to KNOW someone before i #decide to even be around them #doesnt even have to be a detached house or whatever if i can have a room a kitchen ans a bathroom (maybe even a living room) then im set #as long as its all MINE #bc if i see a hair that isnt fucking mine in the sink ill scream i cant take it anymore #AAAAAAAAAAA #that is all #just blair talking <3

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essco-bathware · 8 months

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High-quality shower for your modern bathroom at the best price from ESSCO by Jaquar Group. Choose from a range of latest bathroom showers, hand showers, rainfall, and overhead showerheads.

#shower #bathroom shower set #hand shower #bathroom shower #hand shower for bathroom #overhead shower #hand shower price #bathroom shower head #washroom shower #shower heads #shower price #bathroom shower price

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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

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Easy Access

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit sexual content, canon-typical swearing, oral sex (female & male receiving), F/M/M/M/M, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), multiple creampie, multiple orgasms, group sex, praise, restraints/restraining

Word Count: 3.7k

A short dress is your idea of an invitation for a bit of fun.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // spring 2024 masterlist

Under the shade of a tree, you inhale deeply, savoring the fresh spring air.

This is a party. A gathering. A break. A reward for a job well done.

But it’s not like you’re the one in the line of fire. That isn’t your job. Your one and only endeavor at work is making sure Kate Laswell has everything she needs while at the office. Field work is not your specialty, and you’re thankful for that.

You make phone calls. You bring Laswell her coffee. You keep her appointments and meetings. It’s office work. Clerical. But it keeps you safe, fed, and paid.

Amongst the crowd are familiar and unfamiliar faces. There has to be at least sixty people here in total, and yet the space doesn’t feel cramped. You were given an address, and this has to be someone’s backyard, but you couldn’t say who. And if anyone knows, they aren’t saying.

To your left is a large wood patio. It expands across almost the entirety of the back of the house. Most of it is covered by two connecting pergolas. Underneath the pergolas is a massive buffet and open bar. People loiter there, talking and laughing. The patio opens up to a large green space with a small pond and garden near the back fence. The majority of the space is open but there are a few tables and chairs set up. Music comes from speakers you can’t see, and lights line the fence.

It’s all very pleasant, but crowds are not your thing.

You scan the crowd but no one is looking in your direction. Bringing your plastic cup up to your lips, you scan the crowd one more time. Your gaze falls on Captain John Price. He’s having a conversation with someone you don’t recognize, and out of uniform, he’s even more handsome.

There is no silly, floppy hat or beanie. No windbreaker or boots. Price wears a button up shirt, the top two undone and slightly open with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He appears so casual and calm, a cool sexiness that instantly sparks heat low in your belly.

Your cup is almost to your lips, pausing as you gaze at him. In this moment—this fleeting second—Price’s gaze finds you. He winks. Smirks. Returns to the conversation.

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you nearly drench the front of your linen dress with red punch.

Glancing away, you only find the rest of Price’s team. Kyle Garrick, John MacTavish, and Simon Riley loiter near the deck. Kyle and Johnny talk, their faces animated and engaged. Simon stands with his arms crossed, but he’s not listening.

He’s staring at you, those dark eyes of his piercing you down to your marrow.

It’s silly, really, how all four of them make your stomach flip. How they each in turn seem to awaken something dark and primal in your blood.

While it doesn’t shame you in the least, you have flirted with all of them. It’s hard not to. Price is the one you see the most, and always makes an effort to stop by to see you if he has business with Laswell. Kyle, Johnny, and Simon all have to go out of their way to see you, but they do it. Often.

And it’s not just the flirting or sultry glances. You’ve allowed them each a touch or two. Of the four, you gave Johnny permission to kiss you. It was chaste. Quick. Nothing that curls the toes. But it turned his face beet-red.

But being with any of them is just a fantasy. It’s unprofessional. And you don’t need to know what Laswell might think of you for taking any further action with them.

Sighing, you turn away from Simon’s penetrating stare. You knock back the red punch, the alcohol in it hardly registering on your tongue. Removing yourself is the best solution. Perhaps you could hide in the bathroom for a bit. Splash some cold water on your face.

Depositing the empty plastic cup in the nearest trashcan, you head for the patio, passing the buffet and open bar, striding inside through the open kitchen doors. You nod in acknowledgement to a few people there, and they match it, but they immediately return to their conversations, not all that interested in your presence.

The nearest bathroom is just off the kitchen, but you want to hide. You aim for the hallway with the intent of entering the bathroom at the very end. No one is really using it, and it’s the perfect place to catch your breath.

As you reach out for the golden bathroom handle, a large hand shoots out, encasing your wrist, haling all movement. You turn sharply, ready to bite back at the man who decided it’s okay to touch you without your permission, only to freeze.

Your eyes widen as you realize who the hand belongs to.

“John,” you whisper. You didn’t even hear him approach. He completely snuck up on you.

“Where you off to?” he asks softly. He looks a little concerned, but there is something else under all of that.

While you want to answer his question, to give in a bit, you don’t enjoy being grabbed.

“Is that your business?” you reply, arching one eyebrow, chest heaving slightly as your heartrate quickens.

John’s head tilts slightly, his gaze assessing for a moment. The two of you are locked in, and you’re not sure if you’ve completely fumbled the exchange. John releases you from his stare but he doesn’t release your wrist.

Instead, he glances over his shoulder, and you follow the movement. Right there, in the hall, are three familiar people.

Kyle and Johnny casually lean against the wall while Ghost stands in the middle, watching the opening of the hallway.

You’re not frightened. Not afraid. If anything, you’re becoming slick between the thighs. There is a reason they’re here, and you want to explore what it is.

Price’s gaze returns to you and his gaze is soft. “Do you want it to be my business?”

You press in a bit, and Price’s mouth forms into a self-satisfied grin. “Does it include all four of you?” you counter.

“It can.”

His grip tightens slightly. The hold is almost desperately possessive.

What the hell. You should just do it. Have some fucking fun for once. If anything, this will be the one and only time. Get this ridiculous need out of your system all at once and be done with them.

“Then make it your business,” you murmur.

Price’s grip remains firm as he pulls you away from the bathroom door. He spins you around, his free hand reaching out to open the door that’s across the hall from the bathroom. You hear the creak of the hinges as it swings inward, and then you’re walking backward into the room, Price herding you along.

Behind him follows Kyle. And behind Kyle, Johnny. Then, finally, Simon. He’s the last to enter the room and the one that shuts the door, locking it without even glancing at it. He leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

Once the door is shut, you expect Price to release you. But he doesn’t. He keeps hold of your wrist, drawing you against him, pinning your arm to your chest. With his other hand, Price clasps your chin between thumb and forefinger, keeping your face pointed in his direction.

“You want to back out?” he asks. “Just say the word. We’ll stop.”

Do you want to stop? No. Your blood is buzzing, nearly burning beneath your skin. You want to see where this goes, and how much you can take before you’re unable to understand reality.

“Nervous, Captain?”

He laughs, throaty and low before his lips come dangerously close to yours. “No, love. I like that you’re willing to share.”

Someone shifts behind Price’s shoulder. Your gaze starts to drift but he jerks you back to attention.

“You’ve been teasing us with that dress,” murmurs Price.

Releasing your wrist, Price drops his hand to lightly tug on the skirt of the linen dress you wear.

It’s incredibly comfortable. The color an off-white. It stops at about mid-lower thigh, a bit above the knee. The top of the dress is solid fabric back and front except for the straps which are crisscrossed, leaving your shoulders and arms mostly bare.

“Didn’t do it on purpose,” you reply just as softly.

Price makes a sound in his throat that goes straight to your pussy. “Somehow I believe that,” he chuckles, fisting your dress even tighter. It only pulls you closer, and even like this, you feel his hardness.

You’re so focused on Price that when another pair of hands join his, you almost jump. Price eases his hold on you a bit, and your body twists in the direction of these new hands. It’s Johnny. He has one hand on the back of your neck while the other plays with the hem of your dress. It’s just a gentle toying, one you don’t entirely notice until his fingers are slipping under it, brushing against your bare thigh.

“You want this? All of us?” Johnny sounds skeptical.

Your lips part at his question, the very image of them taking you one after the other only making you slicker.

You nod, chest heaving. “Yes.”

Price’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip, drawing your attention back to him. There is a pause—a second of breathing—and then he releases you. He walks backward toward the door as Simon moves away from it and Kyle closes in.

Johnny sidesteps, placing himself directly behind you. His hands slide over you, finding new homes. He wraps one around your waist, hand splaying wide over your pelvis. His other reaches down to dip beneath the hem of your dress just shy of your left leg.

You believe that Johnny is going to slide his hand between your clenched thighs. But he doesn’t. His arm hooks under your thigh, pressing up, lifting your foot from the floor. You’re forced to balance on your right foot. You instinctually reach up, grasping the back of Johnny’s neck.

But with Johnny’s support, you don’t topple over. His strength keeps you grounded.

With his hand on your pelvis, Johnny begins to bunch the fabric in his fist, lifting it away from your body. It is slow, almost agonizing in how all of their gazes are fixed on that one point.

You don’t need to see to know when you’re bare. You feel the air against you.

You are open for their inspection, and they do not appear disappointed. If anything, they’re fucking hungry.

“She’s wearing fucking nothing under there,” growls Simon, almost like he’s upset but doesn’t want to be.

“Teasing us on purpose,” says Price not to anyone in particular but to reiterate what he said early, that the dress is a tease, and this is just one more thing to add to it.

Simon moves, striding toward you like a predator. Slowly, his hand clasps the front of your neck, and you instinctually arch into Johnny. Kyle sinks to his knees before you.

“Gaz is gonna eat that pretty pussy,” murmurs Johnny in your ear. His breath is a whisper, sending a shiver down your spine. “And then we’re all going to fuck you. One after the other. Fill you with our cum. You want that, love?”

You crave them like a nourishing meal. Accepting won’t hurt. It’ll only fill the gap, satiating the thirst that boils in your blood.

“Yes,” you affirm, putting all the control in their hands now.

“Good girl,” growls Simon, gently squeezing, those dark eyes of his locking in on your parted lips.

Kyle’s hands are on your thighs. They rotate. Squeeze. Slide toward your hip bone.

“Look at that,” he says, absently. Kyle’s fingers lightly brush over your sex. Then, he is parting you with two fingers, and in that glide, you can hear just how wet you are.

“Hardly touched you,” croons Kyle, his mouth dangerously close to what’s aching for him.

He leans in, and goes in for a taste. It’s tentative. Testing. Just a little touch of his tongue against flesh. But it’s enough for your pussy to clench, for you to whimper as if he’s completely pressed his mouth to you.

“Fucking hell,” mutters Johnny. He nuzzles your neck, gaze downward.

You’re watching too. Everyone is. There is no point in hiding anything. You are spread open.

Kyle’s tongue dips again, this time tracing a line between his two fingers. He starts at your entrance, teasing it before moving upward to circle your clit slowly. He is languid about it. Taking his time like there isn’t a party happening just outside the door.

“Oh, you’re sweet, love,” he murmurs before going in fully.

There is no tracing of his tongue. It is only steady strokes and gentle flicks against your clit. Kyle knows what he’s doing. He knows to stick to a specific pace. To not change course. He feasts until your legs shake and it is only Johnny’s strength keeping you aloft.

The clench comes, shuddering outward. Your breathing intensifies, becoming desperate gasps as Kyle continues to work your clit. Simon still holds onto the front of your throat, and he does not let go.

“Look at me,” croons Simon, tilting your head in his direction. “At me. My eyes.”

Johnny murmurs sweet nothings against your throat as he watches Kyle lick and then suck your clit into his mouth.

Your hips buck against Kyle’s mouth as your orgasm consumes, absorbing all your strength, turning your muscles into sticky goo.

There are lips pressing against your inner thigh, and then Kyle’s voice drifts up from between your legs. “She’s ready.”

“But we aren’t,” replies Simon.

Johnny guides your leg down until your foot is flat again. From there, he presses on your shoulders, and you automatically sink to your knees.

“Be good and suck Gaz’s cock,” commands Simon as his hand slides from the front to the back of your neck.

Johnny steps back, his presence evaporating as Kyle undoes the front of his jeans. You are hungry. Feral. Desperate. The moment Kyle’s cock his free from his jeans, you’re reaching for him, sucking him down.

Kyle groans loudly, head tilting back as you throat him to the root.

“Fucking beautiful,” comes Johnny’s voice somewhere behind and to the right of you.

Simon grunts in agreement, his hand still firmly planted on your neck. His fingers dig into your hair, and even though you have some control, Simon has the rest.

He keeps you on your knees and your head still as Kyle thrusts shallowly into your mouth. You are wet between your thighs, the skin there rubbing against itself. Your hands rise to grab the front of Kyle’s jeans, but Johnny tuts, grasping both arms and holding them behind you.

“Breathe through your nose. Good girl. Like that.” These praises are all Simon, and you desperately want to please him.

You’re nearly still as Kyle claims your throat. But he’s careful. Thoughtful. He’s fucking your mouth yet he knows your limit. When your throat contracts, wanting to gag, he retreats until you’ve caught your breath, only to return to his pace from before.

“Fuck,” he mutters, abruptly pulling out of your mouth. You cough, saliva and cum coating your lips and chin. “Bend her over the edge of the bed.”

Johnny releases your arms and Simon is the one that helps you to your feet.

“Look at me,” says Simon, drawing you attention to his face. “You good?”

This can all end if you want it to, but you don’t. You’re not full. Not whimpering. You want them inside.

“I’m good,” and your answer is a bit raspy.

Simon nods and then he’s turning you around, his hands pressing on your back until you’re completely bent.

The bed is a bit high, and you have to go up on your toes. Your hands dig into the comforter, but you don’t feel stable. Not really.

There are hands on your thighs. They drive upward, flipping your dress up to expose your ass to the room. One of those hands comes down on the right cheek. It isn’t hard, just enough to bounce it.

“Open for us,” says Simon. You wiggle your hips, sliding your feet outward slightly. “More, love. Yes. Perfect.”

Simon shifts partially into view, and then he’s grabbing your forearms, holding you down to the bed itself. You have no idea who is behind you, but you feel the head of their cock at your entrance.

There is no condom, and you do not give a fuck. You want to feel each of them in turn, to feel them fill you up, to fuck each other’s cum deeper into you.

The head presses in. Enters. And then you’re being filled, being fed more and more until you’re stuffed. You moan loudly.

“Taking me so well,” groans Johnny as you clamp around him. “Bloody hell you��re tight.”

Johnny squeezes your ass, guiding your hips up slightly as he starts to drive in. The angle is deep, and your feet slide against the floor. He isn’t soft, but he’s not rough either. Johnny is steady, rolling his hips deep enough to hit that sweet spot.

You are soft. Pliant. Smiling against the comforter as Johnny fucks you. His soft grunts become gentle groans. Then his hips stutter, thrust forward, creating a seal. You feel his release flood your pussy, and you purposefully tighten those muscles, encouraging him to stay inside.

And Johnny does, for a moment.

He lightly pats your ass before withdrawing. The loss of him is immediate, and yet there is another ready to take his place. Simon does not move from his spot. You turn your head and find Price still leaning against the door. There is an apparent bulge in the front of his pants.

It is Kyle that settles behind you, and like Johnny, he finds the same rhythm. While Johnny felt girthy, Kyle is absolute perfection. The stretch is good but not too tight, and even though every stroke is pointedly deep, there is nothing but pleasure.

Kyle’s hand slips between the bed and your body. He finds your clit. Toys with it. Plays. You’re still a bit sensitive from your last orgasm, and the next one comes up suddenly. You cry out, squeezing on him as he finishes.

In that blissful state, you don’t notice Simon removing his hands from your forearms. It isn’t until he’s driving inside that you realize it, and you nearly come off the bed. Simon is absurdly large, and your back arches, fingers digging into the comforter as your groan into it.

Simon is not as gentle as them. He fucks their cum into you like he’s made to do so.

And Price is still off to the side. Still watching. Almost indifferent except for that outline in his pants.

Simon’s only tell is a low grunt before he too is finishing inside you.

You are overly stuffed. Full. Simon removes his cock from your pussy as their mixed cum begins to drip out onto your thighs.

You think Price will come. That he will take Simon’s place. Instead, you’re being moved, flipped onto your back. Your legs are brought up, and then Johnny is back, sliding home again. Simon stands to the right of him. He reaches out, runs his hand over your stomach before delving down to find your clit.

Simon circles it as Johnny’s cock pistons in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours sharply with each thrust. It isn’t long before the muscles in your body seize and then relax. Johnny doesn’t find his end until Simon has you clenching a second time.

Johnny steps back, a pleased grin on his face as he stuffs himself back into his pants. Your legs are weak noodles and you’re thankful for the bed beneath you.

Price pushes off from the door. He walks casually, his hands slowly undoing and then removing his belt. You push up onto your elbows, adjusting. Price observes you. His gaze is on your face and then it drops to your pussy.

Reaching out, Price runs his fingers through the mess between your legs.

“Mind if I add to that?” he asks, gaze returning to your face.

You smile and spread your legs wider.

“Good fucking girl,” he croons.

Price grasps your thighs and drags you to the edge of the bed. Shoving his pants down enough to free his cock, he rubs the head over the mess, coating himself in it.

He lines himself up, and then buries himself to the hilt. Your fingers dig into the bed and then reach for him. Price adjusts his grip on your thighs, pressing them up a bit and toward your chest.

You are at his mercy as he drives into you. The only sounds in the room are your breathy moans and the obscene wetness that is your pussy.

All those flirty invitations and teasing smiles has led to this. And you don’t entirely mind if this is all it is. That the five of you are just working it all out of your systems. You’re completely satisfied.

As Price’s thrusts becoming erratic, he lets go of your thigh only to grasp your throat. He leans forward as he brings you up off the bed. You are scrunched, and when his lips meet yours, you come undone just as he does.

You hang. Suspended. And then you’re melting into the soft comforter.

Someone is cleaning you up, wiping away the excess mess. And then you’re brought to your feet. Everything is unsteady as you focus on who it is holding you.

“Good? Or you need a minute?” Price’s palm runs over your hair, smoothing it.

“I need a minute,” you murmur, because it’s true.

Kyle, Johnny, and Simon all start to file out. With the balaclava you can’t discern Simon’s expression. But Kyle is smug. Content. Johnny is almost sheepish, his cheeks slightly flushed as they leave.

It is over. Done.

Price runs his thumb over your bottom lip. “If you ever want this again, you know where to find me.”

He leans forward as if to kiss you but instead brushes his lips against the curve of your cheek. He gives your hand a squeeze. A silent goodbye.

Then he too is gone. The door shut.

You place your hand over your chest and laugh as a trail of cum slips down the inside of your thigh.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @coffeecaketornado @miaraei

@cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics

@spicyspicyliving @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @blackhawkfanatic @contractedcriteria @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @lxblm @beebeechaos @lifes-project @lulurubberduckie

@lovely-ateez @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @suhmie @jaggersinclair

@dakotakazansky @hantheconqueror @certainlygay @sammysinger04 @iloveslasher

@yawning-grave81 @ash-tarte @azkza @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kayden666 @aykxz98 @soapyreaper @statixx-x

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letsnotperceive · 4 months

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Okay, I just can’t stop thinking about John Price honestly. Especiallyyy after he’s *retired*!!

Here is a little drabble (is that the right word? Can’t remember, I’m new here). It gets a little 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 (18+) towards the bottom but nothing crazy. F!Reader

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉ ୨ᰔ୧ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

✧.* Because sure, big buff military man who’s puffin’ more smoke than a chimney is cool and all. But give me sleepy, squishy, human teddy bear Price. Give me Price who’s perpetually exhausted after carrying the weight of the world on his back. Price that just wants to hibernate for a while with his luv.

✧.*Im thinking he’s all softened up around the edges. All that muscle mass doesn’t disappear over night, but as time passes and he’s no longer on an extensive workout routine, it ain’t sticking around forever. Big ol’ pecs that you can squish your face against, a little padding to his stomach. Hold on, stay with me now 🤤

✧.* Of course, he’s still got that grizzly sort of appearance. All mapped in scars and maybe the occasional burn from those late nights spent at his desk with a cigar between his fingers while he’s drifting in and out of consciousness with exhaustion. The damn workaholic! Hairy too; least we forget—that beard and those arms. Oh lord.

✧.*Maybe one day you realize in that post retirement laze of his (which is well deserved, mind you. Don’t give him a hard time now) that he’s looking a lil’ extra scraggly. You sit on the bathroom counter, and with a delicate hand and a very distracted focus, you give his beard a shave. All cute and romantic, the room still steamy from your shared shower…

BAD. Mistake. You both agree to never let it happen again. An angel just lost its wings!! Leave his beard alone 😭

✧.*Treat this man so good, he deserves it. Whether you like to cook or not, you find yourself gravitating to the kitchen on occasion to make sure he’s eating well at least some of the time. Some home-cooked meals to cancel out all those shitty MREs he’s consumed in his lifetime.

✧.*Bet he will reward you for it too; he’s got a soft spot for good girls. He is tired of yelling commands and barking out orders, he’s too worn out to deal with a brat. Be a sweet little thing now and show him some love. Offer to climb into his lap and take over when his bad leg starts acting up, see where it gets you.

✧.*Rolling your hips to a steady rhythm only you hear, he lets you have your fun until he’s ready to set the pace. Big hands pawing at your waist, clutching at you just tight enough his fingers are going to leave red marks for him to soothe away after. He doesn’t even have to roll his hips up against you, he can just move you as he pleases with his strength.

✧.*You don’t even have to try to give him a show—he drinks in every little reaction you give him. His heart skips a beat when you mewl, your eyes threatening to roll back in sheer bliss. The sticky sound of your thighs, drenched in arousal, meeting his skin. The way your lips meet his neck and shoulders, kissing and nipping love bites against his body. The mattress springs squeaking from underneath you two. It’s a performance, and he’s dedicated to appreciating every moment.

✧.*He’ll send you melting with his words, too—

“Mmm, is that good, little luv’?”

“You like that, baby? My darlin’?”

“Such a good girl—doing so well f’me.”

“F-fuck lovie, do that thing with your hips again~”

✧.* Aftercare is top-tier with him too, no questions asked. He may have gotten a little lazy in his retirement, but never when it comes to you. Water, a snack, a quick clean up. Him putting his entire weight over you like a human weighted blanket. Whatever you need, Lovie.

﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

Wrote this quickly after doing an online job interview, I don’t think it went very well bc I have awful RBF but wish me luck :,)

Should I do a full fledged fic about this? Anyone interested? Okay, bye <3

#call of duty #cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #john price #captain price #price cod #price x reader #price smut #john price smut #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #captain john price #cod mw3 #call of duty price

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buzz-in-your-veins · 6 months

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Oops, did i do that?

Accidentally sending a spicy pic to your crush.

The reader is more fem dressed and has a vagina in this- if you want a part b where they don’t have outfits just let me know!

CW: Gender Neutral reader with a vagina and fem-like fashion, reader wears bras, no mention of having boobs.

Vox

Vox hadn’t known you for very long, you were one of the newer demons working for him. You’d applied for the job a few months ago.

In that time he’d seen you about four times, but he was honestly thinking of promoting you, you were amazing at your job, good with both the data and the customers, the only thing it seemed you couldn’t do, was look at your contacts.

You weren’t working tomorrow, so you’d gone out with your friends, you’d purposefully gone to one of the only clubs in the pride ring that wasn’t owned by a member of the V’s, in an effort not to run into your new boss.

You’d gone all out tonight, spurred on by your friends, see, you had a minor crush on the TV demon, not that you’d ever entertain it. However, your friends had picked your outfit tonight, and you ended up in a gorgeous (if a bit slutty) royal blue dress, sleeveless and short, with a glittery tulle overlay, and some beautiful electric red heels.

You were messing on with your friends in the bathroom, taking photos and just genuinely having fun, already beyond tipsy now. You were sending a photo of you and another friend in the mirror to your group chat, your friend had taken the time you were fixing your hair to add Vox onto the ‘send to’ people, you never noticed.

You also didn’t notice your phone go off when Vox opened it.

If only that was the worst part.

You finished the night absolutely trashed, your friends working together to walk one another home, most living near one another. You, of course, were the odd on out, and the odd number.

You assured your friends it was fine, you lived in VVV tower for Lucifers sake, you’d be fine! Your friends wouldn’t hear it.

One of your friends, less drunk, had messaged one of Velvettes models, whom she used to work with and asked for them to walk you back.

You got back safe and sound, still not having realised you’d sent Vox the bathroom photo, or seeing the demon’s expression as Velvettes model walked you in.

You weren’t quite tired enough to sleep when you were dropped back in your room, so you messed on on your phone for a bit, before undressing. You hadn’t got to taking your make up off or undoing your hair, you’d gotten your dress off, and just.. stopped.

You were in an ethereal lingerie set, clearly made with Vox in mind.

Pretty blue panties hugged your hips, red electric bolts providing straps, the lace comfortable against your pussy, your chest coved with a light blue bralette, lace spilling against your skin, and the most beautiful glitch effect chain snug around your belly.

You matched this with a black thin choker with a hanging blue electric bolt, and posed against your bed, taking a few photos, changing poses and taking more.

Your favourite was one where you were laid flat, the photo taken from above, you could see your entire body, including the heels you still hadn’t taken off, and you were stairing straight at the camera with your painted lips parted.

Satisfied you went to save your photo.

Never noticing you’d sent the same photo to your boss.

Afterall, you hadn’t know to take him off your list.

You were cuddled up asleep, still in the underwear, when Vox opened your photo.

You never noticed the power surge then go out, nor did you notice Vox’s name pop up on your phone.

Angel Dust

Angel had seen you around the hotel more than usual, Charlie said you’d recently quit your job to work for someone else, and it gave you more free time and flexibility.

Angel was happy for you, your boss had been a real price of work.

Still riding the high off getting a better job, you’d invited your friends out clubbing, having received a handsome final salary.

You had chosen to go to Hyper-Tech, one of Vox’s clubs, and one of the best. They had some off the greatest drinks, and, unbeknownst to you, that night they also had Angel Dust dancing.

You friends teased you relentlessly about your crush on the porn star already, and they played this off as purposeful on your part, even though you’d had no idea.

You had started the night feeling confident and pretty in your oulfit, but seeing the spider you felt a flash of self consciousness, after all, your outfit was styled on the spiders own colour theme, an off the shoulder soft pink velvet crop-top, above-knee white loose pleated skirt, and pastel pink heels with a hot pink belt and nail polish.

You friends quickly took care of that, telling you how wonderful you looked, that anyone would be lucky to see you.

And getting you drunk definitely helped, the endless stream of cocktails bought with your money, and eventually dipping into your friends supplies brought on a happy buzz.

They also greatly diminished your ability to think critically.

You never saw how Angel Dust watched you the entire time you were in the club, as you progressively got drunker, to the point Angel was shocked you could still stand, never mind walk.

Your friends however, saw how the renowned demon was watching you with concern and admiration.

They quickly concocted a plan without your input.

Angels set finished around 2 in the morning, he waited in his dressing room for you to leave.

You had planed to walk home with your friends before splitting off to the hotel, but one of your friends changed the plan, stating there was no need for you to walk them home, after all, didn’t you like live in the complete opposite direction? Another friend had ‘needed the bathroom’ and had walked right by Angels door, talking about how you were leaving with the third friend.

As you were arguing about the principle of walking your friends home, Angel Dust came out of club, and said he didn’t mind walking you home, you lived together anyway.

Your friends quickly agreed and left, not allowing you to argue.

The whole walk back you were showered with compliments about your outfit, your dancing, your hair, your ability to drink, everything.

Angel walked you all the way to your room before leaving you.

You started to undress, but decided you wanted a photo for this occasion.

In your underwear, a pretty pale pink push-up bra, and a silky white thong, still in the hot pink heels, you took a photo in the mirror, sat on your knees staring in the mirror.

For some reason, you decided to send that to yourself instead of just saving to camera roll.

Only, you never send it to yourself. After the walk home, Angel had messaged you to sleep well, meaning he was your top contact.

Never thinking to check, you simply threw on a pale pink baby doll, took your heels and make up off, and went to bed.

Alastor

Alastor showing up to help at the hotel had never been in your plan.

The radio demon was always an unobtainable shadow, someone you could safely crush on from your own mind, because he would never be in your reach.

Except..

Now he was.

Now not to be foolish, you had figured from his interactions and reactions that Alastor was most likely somewhere on the Ace or Aro spectrum, and you would never push anything onto him.

But you could never even get close enough to talk to him, never mind ask about the possibility of him being on the spectrum.

So you hid. Everytime Alastor was around, you weren’t.

Alastor was cooking? You weren’t hungry. Al was helping with the daily running? You had work. Alastor was in the library? You didn’t want to read anyways.

Alastor always noticed your absence.

Instead you poured over everything and anything about the radio demon.

When he appeared, what he did, where he could have been in the seven years, his rise to power, his ability’s, his domain, everything.

Your crush on the radio demon was a foolish one, but that didn’t stop you from having it.

From dreaming of picnics and ice cream dates, of long walks down the streets of hell, to him taking you apart with his words alone, voice wrapping around you.

And when he stopped those muggers?

You went weak.

So, yea, your crush was unobtainable, in the highest scene.

You could still dress up though.

And you did, frequently.

In pantsuits of dark crimson, to the bloody scarlet ball gown, for the party.

Alastors eyes never left you that night.

Mostly, it was under your clothes.

Pretty crimson baby dolls. Black lacy thongs. Scarlett bralettes. Everything. Your camera roll was full of photos of yourself in the underwear, posing this way and that, full of imagination and hopes you would never act on.

Oh how you’d positively die if anyone saw.

That didn’t stop you.

Right now you were dressed in a darling crimson corset, embroidered with darker lace, tied tight, paired with dark scarlet panties, pussy damp against the lace as you lost yourself slightly in a fantasy, black heels and a black necklace, you had posed side on to the camera, staring straight ahead, knees folded underneath you and head tilted slightly up, arms held behind your back.

You heard your shutter go off and stood, getting dressed in a black lace camisole, taking of the corset and heels before heading to bed.

Picking your phone up on the way, you saved the photo to your folder.

Surely, you should have expected naming your folder ‘Alastor<3’ to backfire, but..

Maybe this was a Freudian slip?

It’s not like you even noticed you’d sent it, and you were asleep by the time your phone when off.

Lucifer

You’d seen the King of Hell maybe twice, once in passing, and once when he came to the hotel.

It was more than enough for you to crush on the child-like King, falling in love with his attitude and personality, drawn further in by his looks and kindness.

By the time the charity ball came around, you were completely lost for him.

Lucifer showed up in a white suit, not too different from his normal attire, only more fancy, more Kingly, so to speak.

You had taken Angels advice and dressed to impress.

Angel Dust was the only one who knew about the feelings you had for the fallen angel, and he took every opportunity to tease you for it, but he was also your biggest supporter.

You and Angel had knows each other almost as long as you’d been in hell, so his help was soothing for you, and you smiled as the spider laced up the golden gown you’d picked.

It was a golden off-the-shoulder ball gown, with a soft cover of glittery tulle over the top, the skirt flaring out, reaching the floor, covered in rose embroidered embellishments, and paired with bloody red heels, and a glittering clutch.

Charlie had told you all to go all out, and you and Angel did not disappoint.

The two of you descended together, and you caught site of the King before quickly moving your eyes, your blush almost matching your clutch.

Charlie swanned around you, telling you how amazing you looked, and look at your hair!

Angel got you a flute of champagne before leaving you to find Husk.

Traitors.

You walked around the party, dancing with people here and there, doing your best to avoid looking at the King.

You never saw that his eyes never left your form, or how he glared at everyone who touched you.

The king had tried more than once to get close to you, if not to dance with you, to at least tell you how amazing you looked, but you always seemed to move at just the right time.

Charlie had been snapping photos of you the whole night, sending them to her dad, even she saw the two of you pining for one another.

Your flute was never empty, and unfortunately for you, Angel could always recognise when you were about to bolt, and he and Husk would step in to talk to you and prevent it.

Did you mention traitors?

By the time you were finally able to leave, you were definitely tipsy, clutching Angels arm as the two of you ascended the stairs, congratulating yourself on managing to avoid the King.

Angel saw the way Lucifer was watching you, but you didn’t.

By the time you were in your room and Angel had left after unlacimg your dress, ‘we went all blessed with long arms, A——y!’, you wanted a special photo.

So you got ready.

You kept your heels on and striped to your underwear, a strapless golden bra with a red bow in the center, trimmed in lace, and panties to match, also trimmed in lace. You kept the sparkly fishnets on too, and your makeup on, before finiding a pose you liked.

Finally settling on a pose wherein you were laid on your back, your knees up and tilted slightly to the side, one hand on your breast, the other just above your head, and your face tilted towards your phone, positioned slightly higher than you, and just above your head.

You smiled at the photo, and went to save it.

You never looked.

Lucifer had got your number of Charlie to tell you how nice you’d looked. Your response?

A photo.

You were asleep by the time Lucifers own response came in.

Husk

Husk hadn’t taken much notice of you at first, only that you seemed to come and go with Angel, Husk later learned you were Angels shadow so to speak, Valentino payed you prettily just to follow and protect the star.

Husk noticed you more as you came out more without Angel, not being needed as often when you were in the hotel.

You and the barcat had had some quite good conversations, and some even better discussions.

You knew your way around cards that was for sure, and the cat loved talking with you about card tricks.

Sure no one could match him in card tricks, but hearing you talk about them? Something just felt different.

Husk worried about you and Angel a lot, especially when you both came back late, Angel looking trashed, and you looking slightly high on those nights. It took Husk months to realise Valentino was drugging you both, more so Angel. On those nights, Husk would stay up late to make sure you and Angel ate and drank before going to bed.

Husk never brought it up, and Angel didn’t remember, so you never spoke about it. If the cat didn’t want to bring it up why should you?

Husk did notice his favourite snack appearing on the bar in the mornings however.

Your crush on the cat had started before you even began talking to him, but those conversations, the way he treated you, how he never made you seem unimportant, the way he looked after you and Angel after Val had been upset?

You were gone.

And the cat was your new home.

Not that you’d ever tell him of course, you would never risk ruining such a wonderful friendship like that.

Of course, there were also nights like these. When Val needed Angel for publicity, those were the best. You both got to dress up and basically just party, no forced drugs or alcohol, just fun.

You’d dressed in an orange one-shoulder skin-tight slip dress, with a split up-to your thigh, paired with glittery purple heels, a clutch and jewellery, with black card themed earrings.

Husk had seen you just before you got into Vox’s limo and dropped his bottle of cheap alcohol, sending Niffty into a cleaning/laughing fit.

You and Angel didn’t get back until 1 in the morning, both of you slightly buzzed, but pretty much sober, not having been forced to fed any drugs and having eaten at the gala.

Husk had tried to stay up.

You feel deeper when you realised the barcat was asleep at his post because he was waiting for you. Sending Angel to bed, you walked over to the barcat and gently shook him awake, telling him he could go to bed.

From here Husk noticed the earrings, and flushed, jolting backwards and falling.

You giggled a little before apologising for startling him, which he waved off.

He headed to bed and you got back to your room. Taking your dress off you caught sight of your self in the mirror.

Pretty orange panties with a tiny club embroidered in at the side, deep orange plunge bra with a spade on the left cup, purple bracelet, necklace, and shoes, pretty orange make-up, and a heart and diamond earring set.

You needed a photo.

Fussing around a bit you finally settled on a pose with you laying slightly over the end of the bed, head and chest tilted down, knees pulled up to the side, camera angled too capture everything, arms by your head, and full body on display.

You changed into some sleep clothes after the photos, and in your sleepy state sent them to Husk, instead of simply saving them.

You didn’t wake up until well after Husk responded.

Lute.

Lute had noticed you as soon as you’d joined Adam’s ranks.

Of course she had.

You were the prettiest exterminator Lute had had the pleasure of seeing.

She pestered Adam until he agreed Lute could have her own assistant.

That of course, was you.

Lute loved having you work with her.

Yes all your conversations were about work, and you treat her like your boss, not a colleague, but it wa a better than when you weren’t talking at all.

You were still reeling from the change in position so fast, and now having to deal with the angel you were crushing on at all hours of the day?

Your poor heart couldn’t deal.

You were a blushing mess under your mask every time Lute spoke to you, praising yourself every time you got through an answer without stumbling or stuttering on the words.

Your friends were relentless with the teasing, going as far as to create hand signals to tease you even on the training fields.

Regardless you excelled.

You had to be the best.

And so you were.

Lute often asks what fuels you, and you always stumbled through a bullshit answer, never remembering what you’d said before.

You never gave her the same answer.

You couldn’t exactly tell your now boss the reason you did so well was so she would notice you, could you?

Shadowing Lute meant shadowing Adam. He usually left you alone for the most part though.

It meant going to fancy angel party’s. With out your mask.

You forced your friends to help you get ready.

Gorgeous black knee length dress, clinched at the waist, with silvery heels, a silver necklace, a silver clutch, and purple earrings, your hair done all nice and make up to compliment the outfit.

Your friends told you you looked stunning, and when Lute saw you, she had to agree.

You spent the entire party following Lute around, you didn’t know any of the people here and you were anxious.

Lute kept your champagne topped up, eventually switching you to something a little harder when it became clear you wouldn’t settle on the sparkling liquid alone, not used to the alcohol you got drunk fast.

Adam allowed Lute to leave early, so she could take you home.

Lute got you in safely and even placed an aspirin and water on your bedside table, before leaving you, messaging your phone to let you know what’s happened.

Meanwhile, you’d striped down to a gray lacy bralette, with matching high waisted panties, pretty silver heels, make-up still on and earrings still in.

You wanted a photo.

You set your phone up, and posed, on you knees on your bed, heels just visible, leaned back slightly, one hand behind your bed in a stretch and one on the bed, eyes looking just beyond the camaraderie.

Happy with the results, you went to save the picture, instead, sending it to Lute, who opened it as soon as she got home.

Bye the time Lute replied, you were curled up ontop of your covers, heels still on, sleeping deeply.

Feedback is always appreciated <3

If you want more people added feel free to ask and I’ll do a part two!

Comments are my high.

They make me write faster.

~Vyrus

1K notes · View notes

multifariousqueer · 1 year

Note

can you write miles 42 having readers bank account, card ALL that on his phone and gets mad if she purchases shi with money he didint give her. its really crazy but its miles 42....what do you expect??? hehe

Sure love!!!

A/n: y’all I love you so much but I need you guys to start requesting regular miles fanfic pls. Although 42 miles owns my 🩷

It was just a simple necklace. It was the Vivienne Westwood necklace that you saw everyone around you wearing and wanted so badly. You knew Miles would get it for you in a heartbeat but a part of you wanted to get it for yourself. It had been a long, stressful semester but you struggled through it all and got to a point where ou were passing with A’s and B’s. Coincidentally, you had gotten a job at Starbucks after months of applying and you had about $1000 saved up of your own money that you were waiting to spend on something special. That was, until that “something special” came along in the form of Miles.

You never knew what he did but you knew he was making 8x your salary in a month. It seemed like anything you wanted, you got when you were with Miles; shoes, clothes, books, makeup any and everything you wanted, it was yours in a matter of days. It’s worth mentioning that Miles is extremely overprotective and wants to know everything about what you’re doing and buying because he loves you and cares about your habits.

Even on Miles’s birthday when you dipped into your savings to get him the latest Jordan’s, he was furious that you had to use your own money:

“Damn Ma, these are valid. How much were they?”

“Oh don’t worry about it” you said

“I said, how much were they.” His eyes narrowing in on you because he knew how much they were because he was gonna buy them 2 weeks ago but decided not to.

“$500. I’ve been saving for them for you, baby. It’s all good” you tried to assure him

“Aight. thank you.” He said, pulling you close to him, the scent of the Dior Sauvage cologne you also bought him, filling your nostrils

But deep down you knew he was pissed off and mad that you spent your own money, so after a long talk about how he should be able to keep tabs on you and keep you safe, you gave him your Apple Pay and banking info for emergencies only but of course it’s Miles and being the overprotective boyfriend he is, he checks it everyday for any “extravagant purchases” made by you or someone else.

Of course he isn’t crazy, he set a $25 limit for you before he steps in and asks what’s up. Once, you were at a mall with your friend and found the cutest shirt at Urban Outfitters and decided to buy it. The price tag read $50 but you went ahead and got it; the same happened at Bath and Body Works and Tilly’s and as you made your way to the bathroom, you got a text from Miles:

Miles: did someone take your card?

You: no why??

Miles: why’d you spend $150 in an hour??

You: I’m at the mall

Miles: so? I pay for your shit

You: dawg it’s $150. It’s not that deep 💀

Miles: I ain’t yo “dawg” and yes it is when Yk I buy you shit

You: you aren’t my sugar daddy

Miles: I basically am atp. I’m sending you $1000, buy something cute

You contemplated leaving him on seen but you remembered how he hates that so you replied:

You: Okay

You had saved up enough to get the necklace and when you got it, you were ecstatic. You thought about all of the possible outfit combos and how good it will look against your brown skin but your thoughts were interrupted by a certain someone:

Miles: what’d I tell you, Mami?

You: ?

Miles: don’t play dumb, yk I would’ve bought you that necklace in a heartbeat but instead you wanted to be miss independent and buy it yourself. I guess since you’re so independent, I’ll stop sending you that $1000 every week. How about that?

You: ok

Miles: ?

You: we can discuss this when I get home

Miles: K

You: k

It was a long ride home but eventually you accepted that Miles was gonna rip your head off and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

When you got home, he had three of the necklaces, two huge teddy bears, a bouquet of your favorite flowers and the newest pair of Jordan’s waiting for you:

“What’s all this?” You smiled and asked

“I told you I’ll pay for your shit, y/n” miles said, with a small smirk on his face

6K notes · View notes

fredwkong · 9 months

Text

The Voice in Your Head

Graham was excited about moving into his new apartment. It was in a nice part of town, with good transit access to his job, plus it was pretty spacious for the price. Graham could just picture himself, his plants, maybe a boyfriend, all fitting neatly into the apartment, with its nice hardwood floors and retrofit kitchen.

So, he was quite surprised, on moving day, when the neighbour across the hall grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. “There’s something weird about that unit,” the guy hissed in a low voice.

“What are you talking about?” Graham frowned. This guy looked totally ordinary in every way, in his button-up shirt and neatly parted hair. There was no way he was some crazy conspiracy nut.

“The guys who live in there,” the guy continued, seeming frantic, “they change. Most of them get spooked and move out in a few weeks. I’ve never seen one last longer than two months. That’s why the rent is so low.”

“Bull.” Graham tugged himself free. “What is this, some kind of weird building hazing or something? What a way to greet a neighbour.”

As he marched away to unlock the door for the movers, Graham felt his new neighbour’s eyes on his back.

Even though he did his best to put the strange conversation out of his mind, Graham kept thinking about the guy’s words as he unpacked for the rest of the day. He had seemed way too sincere for a prank.

At one point, one of the movers gave a sudden shudder and dropped a box full of Graham’s work shirts and coat hangers. “Sorry,” he muttered, blinking away the wild look in his eyes as his coworkers stared, “there was a...smell.” Graham noticed that he was one of the first to leave the apartment to go wait in the moving van once everything was carried in.

Left alone after the movers set up the basics—bed, couch, dining table, desk, TV stand—Graham stood in the kitchen, trying to recapture his excitement for the new apartment. He couldn’t help feeling like the sunlight through the big windows of the living room looked a little watery, like it couldn’t fully enter the space. Even though it was nice and warm inside the apartment, Graham felt strangely clammy, and he couldn’t settle down.

In an attempt to use the restless energy, Graham paced to the bedroom and cut open his boxes of work clothes. He had a pretty ordinary cubicle job, so there was a certain standard of professionalism to meet, but Graham also loved business clothes. Getting dressed for work, for Graham, was like putting on a professional person, like he could pretend to be someone else for 8 hours a day. He had dozens of slim-fit button-ups for his skinny body, perfectly chosen to match his pale skin. Matching sets of slacks and blazers quickly filled the closet.

The action was soothing, and pretty soon Graham was unpacking his loafers. He’d cleaned them before putting them in the box, but he decided to give them a quick polish before putting them on the shoe rack. As he went to get a rag, Graham suddenly thought, I bet those won’t fit for long.

He stopped, halfway to the kitchen. The thought had been so out of character and strange. But, it sounded like his internal voice. It was a weird feeling.

Don’t worry about it.

Graham shook his head and resolved not to worry about it, grabbing the rag and putting his shoes away.

That night, Graham had trouble getting to sleep. It was like he couldn’t get warm, even under all the covers. He tossed and turned until, finally, he drifted off.

It was still dark when his eyes opened. Somewhere around 4 AM. Feeling strangely detached from himself, Graham swung out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

Looking into the mirror in the darkness, Graham found himself stripping out of his silk pyjamas to see his own skinny, pale body. His lips moved, and Graham heard himself mumble, “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

As if puppeted by someone else, Graham’s body moved through a series of bodybuilding poses. “There’s potential, though,” he heard himself mumble into the darkness.

He lifted up his arm and stuck his nose into his armpit, frowning. “Don’t worry, dude, you’re in good hands,” Graham’s voice told him. “I’ll go slow so you don’t get spooked.” Then he chuckled to himself. “Heh, spooked.”

The morning sun had Graham blinking awake. He’d had a strange dream, talking to himself in the bathroom. But as he pushed aside the covers, Graham frowned. He was naked, even though he always slept in pyjamas.

The pyjamas were on the bathroom floor, tossed carelessly. Well, Graham thought, maybe he’d overheated…while on the toilet.

Anyway, he’d been too tired to take a shower last night, but he definitely needed one before work today. Graham stepped into the shower and turned the tap, but was disappointed to hear a gurgling somewhere in the pipes. Only a few drops came out.

One more day won’t hurt.

“One more day won’t hurt,” Graham said, vocalising what his inner voice had said. He would email the building manager and get the shower fixed today. In the meantime, he applied a few extra layers of deodorant and fixed his hair as best as he could.

Still, Graham was self-conscious all day. He dreaded any coworker getting close enough to smell him or notice that his skin was a little greasy. By lunch break, he had rehearsed in his head a whole speech about walking to work to explain why he was so gross. It was a relief when the clock hit 5 PM and no one commented.

The repair man was standing outside Graham’s apartment when he got home, and he let them in. Apparently, there was nothing obviously wrong with the shower. It even ran on the repair man’s first try at turning the tap. Still, the man recommended that Graham put aside some tap water in case it kept acting up. At least he could take a sponge bath.

No problem, it’s not an urgent fix.

“No problem, it’s not an urgent fix.” Graham wasn’t sure why he’d said that. It was like someone else had spoken through his lips. It was kind of urgent to have regular showers. But he shook hands with the repair man and smiled as he saw him out. If the shower was just randomly acting up, he’d learn to adapt to it.

The guy across the hall looked out his door while Graham stood there, thinking through the strange thought he’d had. “You okay?” he asked. “Nothing…weird happening in there?”

Nothing to worry about.

“Nothing to worry about.” Graham smiled at his neighbour. Yeah, he was feeling pretty relaxed. With his move done, he really did have nothing to worry about. He was just jittery about his new place. “Graham, by the way.”

“Leo,” said the neighbour, still looking rather nervous. “You sure? Usually, guys go screaming down the hall their first night, yelling about feet and nightmares, like they're being haunted.”

Not this time.

“Not this time.” Maybe Leo really was some kind of conspiracy theorist. Graham still had more unpacking to do. “Nice to meet you.” He closed the door.

First things first, though, Graham wanted to finally get his first shower in his new place. He went and turned the tap.

Nothing.

Graham took a deep breath to calm himself down and went to fill a pot with water from the kitchen sink.

Hahahahaha. Laughter filled his mind. Graham froze in the middle of the kitchen. No matter what, his mental voice laughing at him couldn’t be a good sign, right?

The only thing to do with a problem is laugh.

That logic seemed sound. It wasn’t the way Graham usually dealt with problems, though. He was the kind of guy who tended to panic at the slightest opportunity.

He must be maturing.

Chuckling a bit to himself, Graham went to get his basin of water for a sponge bath.

The sponge baths really weren’t so bad, and by the time the shower started working randomly a few days later, Graham couldn’t find any of his soap or shampoo. He had a vague memory of dreaming that he’d thrown them out, but that was ridiculous. Every time he thought about getting more bathing supplies, he’d have the thought that it was just a lot of effort. He was doing fine with water alone, why complicate it?

One night a week or so after his move, Graham found himself staring at his ceiling late in the night. He must be dreaming again. He felt his lips move. “I think I’m gonna try moving in for real, just a bit. Don’t mind me.”

Suddenly, Graham’s feet went ice cold, and a strange, wet, slippery sensation slid into his feet. They felt…tight, like they were overfull somehow.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a tight fit. Don’t worry, I’ll work you in slowly,” said Graham’s mouth.

Still with that strange, distant sensation, as if he wasn’t in control of his body, Graham sat up in bed and swung his feet to the floor. He watched as his toes wriggled and something shifted under the skin. They did look a little bloated. Over several minutes, Graham watched like a passenger while his feet flexed back and forth, looking a little larger with each twist of the arch and ankle. Dark hair began to sprout on his growing toes.

At last, they seemed to stabilise, and Graham’s body lifted his right foot up. A faint, but distinctive, aroma rose from the massive sole. “Mmm, smells like being alive,” said Graham’s mouth with a smirk.

The next morning, Graham laid in bed for a long time. He’d never been a foot guy, so this dream was especially strange. He realised, thinking back on it, that his cock had, in fact, been hard the entire time. There was even a stain in his Calvins—somehow, every night he’d worn pyjamas to bed he’d tossed them off while dreaming—like he’d had a wet dream.

When he got out of bed, he wondered why his feet looked oddly tan against the skin of his legs. And, later, why they felt strangely snug in his loafers. They pinched where they had felt perfectly comfortable before.

When he got home, it was a relief to tear his shoes off, but Graham wrinkled his nose at the sharp aroma emanating from his sweaty socks. That was it, he resolved, he needed to stop procrastinating and wash himself properly again.

But it is sort of hot.

Graham paused as he was about to start making a shopping list. If he really thought about it, the scent was kind of hot. No one had mentioned that Graham wasn’t soaping up his body or deodorizing anymore. The smell from his feet hadn’t bothered anyone. It was like it was his own little dirty secret. Like another role he could play underneath his work role.

And the smell really was sort of attractive.

“New shoes” went on the shopping list.

Some sneakers, too. To get really smelly.

Right, Graham didn’t want to mess up any work shoes as he experimented with this new interest of his. “Sneakers.”

It was like his dream had opened a floodgate. Every night, Graham dreamed of his feet growing erotically, and each day they were just a bit larger, with just a bit more stink built up on them. In his dreams, Graham talked to himself, talking about getting gym equipment, a bunch of new clothes, even about how boring Graham found his job.

More and more, Graham found himself agreeing with his dreaming self. One evening, he put a bunch of gym equipment into his Amazon cart, then turned off his computer. Gym stuff cost a lot of money, he needed to be sure he wanted to buy it. But that night, he dreamed about sitting at his computer to finalise the order, and the equipment arrived a few days later. At that point, it seemed like a waste to return it, so Graham set it up in the spare room, where he had originally planned to have a library.

Books are boring.

Graham had decided books were boring.

Any time he was at home now, Graham kept finding himself thinking, “I should do a few reps.” The results were unbelievable, with muscles thickening all over his body in what seemed like just a few days. It wasn’t long before Graham was outgrowing all of his clothes, quickly wearing out three new pairs of jeans in as many weeks.

Sweats are better anyway.

Graham’s new fitness obsession extended into his dreams, too. The cold, slippery sensation still enveloped his feet every night, but it also covered most of his body now. In his dreams, Graham would feel himself get out of bed and strut to the bathroom to pose and flex as his muscles grew larger and larger, until they bulged off his frame.

Once his muscles had grown thick and tanned dark, Graham’s dreams went in a few different directions. Often, he would watch in the mirror as he sniffed his armpits or feet, jacking the thick, musky foreign cock that had grown in place of his average, cut dick. Sometimes, Graham would hear himself say, “Nah, needs some more,” after sniffing himself. Then, he would go to his home gym and pump out reps until he was coated in sweat.

He always woke up aching and coated in stale sweat after those dreams, with a pungent scent emanating from his armpits and shockingly larger feet.

Every few nights, Graham had a dream where he would run his thick, callused hands over his neck and face, subtly pinching and compressing his face until a handsome stranger looked back at him in the mirror. “There, that’s the real me,” he would say to himself in a deep, smokey voice.

After those dreams, Graham was always surprised to see his normal face in the mirror. And yet, there would be a familiar sharpness to his jaw, or the set of his dark eyebrows, that reminded him of the face in his dreams.

The world outside his apartment felt increasingly strange. It was like a part of his internal voice was missing. He had trouble understanding his own thoughts, now. It was like he was a jumble of two different people. Had he really used to spend most of his free time reading library books? Was he really the kind of guy who didn’t put himself up for a bonus at the end of the year?

The apartment was safe and secure. It was like Graham’s mind was wrapped in calm and good sense as soon as he walked in. His mind spoke louder, which let him make better decisions, like the time that he wore sweats and T-shirt to work. It had made perfect sense when he walked out the door, but then he had stumbled over his words when he tried to explain to his boss why he was dressed appropriately for work.

Long story short, Graham was arriving home early today. He was just unlocking his door when Leo came barrelling up the stairs in running gear. He stopped when he spotted Graham, just stepping over the threshold and into the wonderful calm of his apartment.

“Who are—Graham?” Leo stared at him. “Is that really you?”

Graham looked down at himself, then back over at Leo. “Uh, yeah?”

“No way. You’re so…muscular and tan. I barely recognise your face.”

“Yeah, I had a bit of a growth spurt.” Graham flexed a bicep with a grin.

“A growth spurt powered by anabolics and a talented plastic surgeon, sure,” Leo was frowning at him.

Graham was kind of offended by his rude neighbour. He’d put a lot of hard work into this body!

Yeah, I have. Get him in the apartment.

“Look,” Graham sighed, the words spilling from his lips like in his dreams, “I’ve had a bad day. Just come inside if you want to talk.”

Leo seemed to hesitate, just for an instant. “But that’s the—“

“Either get inside, or get out of my face.” Graham’s voice sounded a bit gruff to his ears, beyond just the depth that it had gained over the months he’d lived here. It was like it was another man’s voice.

Leo shook himself. “Okay.” He steeled himself and followed Graham over the threshold.

Perfect.

“Whew, it’s ripe in here, man,” Leo observed. “Do you ever shower?”

“Just with cold water.” Graham kicked out of his sneakers, freeing his massive, socked feet and stretching them out. More and more, he felt separate from his body, as if he was watching it move. Still, it hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t have done, he thought. He was just playing another role.

“Well, clearly, it’s not…enough…” Graham watched, his mouth held in a strange smile, as Leo seemed to lose his train of thought. The man’s nostrils flared, and he swayed slightly.

“Yeah, not so mighty and judgmental anymore,” said Graham’s voice. “You’ve forced me to move up my schedule a bit, but it’s not a problem.”

Leo licked his lips before answering. “Sorry, sir,” he said thickly.

“You’re the guy who’s been helping my potential bodies escape, aren’t you?”

“I warn them about this apartment…I keep listings for new places they can go…” Leo’s eyes started to clear, and he shook his head. “No, wait, what the fuck—“

In a flash, Graham leapt into action. He didn’t know how he got one of his sneakers in his hand, but he grabbed Leo in a headlock and shoved his face into the putrid interior. “Nuh-uh-uh, no escapes or exorcisms this time,” Graham’s voice whispered, as Leo thrashed in his strong arms. “The more you fight, the more you fall. Isn’t it hot? My sexy, sweaty new body all around you, and the smell and taste of my foot musk all over your face?”

As Graham spoke, Leo’s struggles weakened. Graham watched with amusement as they both slumped to the floor, a rock-hard boner growing in Leo’s running shorts.

Finally, Graham’s grip on the sneaker loosened, even as Leo reached up to hold it himself. “Look, this is all just a misunderstanding,” Graham’s said soothingly. “You’ve thought I was a sexy beast since I moved in, right? You loved my big, musky muscles and my foot stink. That’s why you made up that story about a haunted apartment.”

Leo’s eyes seemed to be rolling uncontrollably in his head, but he nodded.

“Now I’ve finally noticed you and invited you inside. You just couldn’t help yourself, you foot slut. You were gonna tackle me before I gave you that shoe to lick.”

Leo nodded fervently, moaning. A wet spot was forming at his crotch.

“Now we’re gonna go to the bedroom and I’m gonna shove my cheesy uncut cock in that virgin hole of yours, okay bro?”

“Fuck,” Leo gasped, muffled through the shoe. “Fuck yes, Graham.”

“Nah, man,” said Graham’s voice, picking Leo up like he was a doll, “I’d rather you call me Grey.”

As Grey’s thick cock entered Leo, Graham found himself watching as if from outside himself. He could see his own handsome, angular face as he fucked Leo. He could see Grey’s massive, musky feet shift as he gained a better angle to make Leo squeal. He could even watch the dribbles of sweat run over his thick ass as his voice gave short, sharp pants.

“Fuck yeah,” Grey said to himself in a harsh voice, picking up the pace.

“This is my body.”

“This is my fucking musk temple.”

“Made it all by my-fucking-self.”

“Feels fucking good to be alive.”

As Grey buried his thick, musky cock deep in Leo, shaking through his orgasm, Graham found himself back inside his body. Once again, he watched like a passenger as Grey licked his load out of Leo’s asshole, then sent his happy new foot slut on his way with a spare sneaker and instructions to stop using soap and add Grey's contact info to his bank account.

Eventually, Grey lounged on the couch, naked, idly stroking his slimy, still-lubed cock and scrolling through Grindr. “What do you think, Graham?” he said out loud. “Since it's my first night able to leave the apartment, I should go crash some boys’ b-ball game and make some more foot slaves, right?”

Graham couldn’t help but agree. He was just the voice in Grey’s head, after all.

This story is a slightly belated holiday gift for @idesofrevolution! Happy holidays, and here's to a hot and sexy new year ;)

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #male tf #race change #musk tf #male possession #gay possession #feet kink tf #all fwkong

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