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pupcuck · 6 months

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PUPPY LOVE !

ft. leon s. kennedy x f!reader

tags. puppy hybrids, knotting, chris is the owner but he’s like not fucking, virginity loss, vendetta leon, age gap, lots of spit

notes. i write gn reader usually but this is super sickeningly self indulgent so it’s fem reader ughdhfh im so sorry this is crossposted on my ao3 :3 NOT BETA READ If u see a typo no you didn’t!!! I am so humiliated by this fic um this only makes sense with vendetta Leon so keep him in mind

“C’mon, buddy, ain’t it a cutie?” You’re being held up, some scary man's hands under your armpits, legs dangling in the air as he shows you off to an older dog.

It. How rude. You’re a lady for god's sake. An ill-tempered little lady in fact. This is growing tedious, so you let out a noise of warning, and clamp down on his forearm with your canines. They’re just in. Fresh and white. Had taken a while, you were a bit of a late bloomer, but they're here now, and that’s all that matters.

“Shit,” the man clicks his tongue, “you got some spunk, huh, pup?” He places you down on the ground, and you sink to your knees with a soft huff. “What’d you think, Leon?”

So that’s his name. The older dog, Leon. He looks worn out and mean. Brows furrowed, wrinkled forehead, dark hair that obscures most of his face. What a creep. You’ve been set up, the old lady at the pet shop told you this was going to be fun! She said you were gonna meet someone handsome, a stud who’d give you puppies. This dog looks like he doesn’t even go into rut anymore. His glory days are so over. Ten years past his prime. You stick your nose in the air and refuse to acknowledge him. He does the same.

“Leon, come on, buddy,” the man, well, you guess he’s your owner now, tries to coax him over, “don't be like this.”

Leon simply rolls onto his side, his ears flopping over so the pink underside is seen. Rude. You’re so pretty any normal mutt would be begging for it. But, you guess he’s just faulty. ‘Cause he’s an old man. Duh. This is so unfair, a pampered pooch like you deserves so much better. A two bedroom apartment with a single bathroom, and an open-plan kitchen is just not classy.

“Fuck, Leon, you always gotta be so damn difficult.” Your owner crouches down, fastens a collar around your neck. It’s pink so that's good at least. You’re a stupid pup, can’t quite make out what’s engraved on the doggy bone charm, but you assume it would be your name. “There you go, girl, you like it?”

You tilt your head to the side, but ultimately nod your head with a forced smile. Getting on your owner’s good side would be ideal. Maybe he’d spoil you a little extra. He’s awfully handsome when you take a moment to really look at him. Why couldn’t he have been the stud?

“That’s a good girl,” he presses a soft kiss to your head, “why don’t you go make yourself comfortable, pup?” He gives you a little smack on the bottom, makes you jump. Gosh. His hands are so big. He’s so big. You felt the way he flexed under your teeth earlier. So much meat to him.

With another huff, you walk around, sniff the couch cushions, press a dainty paw to the wall, admire all the framed photos. They’ve been together for a long time it seems. Your owner and Leon. He used to be perfectly pretty. Sunflower blonde, dopey smile on his slightly rounded face, puppy fat softening all his rough edges. Cute. You wish he still looked like that. His tail looks like more of a blur in the photos, towards the end he starts to mellow out, turning into what you’ve seen of him today. Moody.

“Leon was a military dog,” your owner explains. You don’t know what that means, but you think it’s important. Considering all the strange clothes with leather straps and that ugly green print, there’s even a gun in your owner’s hands. “He’s retired now though. I thought you’d cheer him up a little.”

You blink at your owner, pressing your nose into his hand when he offers it, pink tongue licking at his salty fingers. Yeah, you like him. He’s firm and sweet. Smiles at you in a way that’s kind. Leon is the only problem. Whatever. He’ll kick the bucket soon enough, or maybe your owner will get tired of him. After all, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but you’ve got plenty up your sleeve to show off. Rolling over, batting your lashes, smiling, looking pretty. You’ve got it handled.

“You know how to speak, pup?” Owner cups your cheeks, “my name is Chris,” he says it slowly, waits till you repeat it back to him.

“Chris…” you’re hesitant to speak, unsure of if you did it right. He pats your head, offers you a paw-shaped treat, that must mean you did well.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” Gosh. You like him lots ‘n lots. This place ain’t so bad after all.

“She’s settling in well,” Chris is on the phone with somebody, “no, course not, god, she’s a star.” He’s talking ‘bout you, and you like it. You’re the apple of his eye these days.

He scratches behind your ears as you sit beside him, chewing on a squeaky toy you gnawed at so bad it popped. Leon is laying on the floor as usual, sleeping soundly on a warm spot. You'd given him a shifty kick earlier, but he just grunted through a heavy snore.

It gets lonely when Chris leaves for the day, you often find yourself nesting in his bed, sniffing his pillow, chewing on one of his shirts for comfort. You get scolded for all the pin-sized holes left by your needle-sharp teeth, but you continue to do it. Leon is mean. He bares his teeth when you try to play, kicks you away when you try to curl into him at night, all sorts of things. He’s no fun, it’s why you cling to Chris’ leg, whine and scratch at the door, kick your legs and throw back your head to wail.

The door clicks shut after a short tussle between your teeth and the rough fabric of Chris’ jeans. You sniffle and curl up against the front door. This is so cruel of him. Why can’t he just stay and play all day? You have so many games planned that Leon never wants to partake in. Tug of war, fetch, tummy rubs, kisses, cuddles. It’ll be so much fun! And yet there’s nobody to do it with.

You nose at his cheek as he sleeps in his usual spot. Just by the window, bathed in the warmth of the yolky sunlight, chest rising and falling in tandem with his breaths. His nose scrunches ever so often, his tail mostly still, other than the little flick to the side it makes when you approach him carefully. He smells good. That’s the one thing you like about Leon. His scent. It’s thick and rich and has your gut bubbling with an unfamiliar feeling. However, you welcome it, it feels good to you. Makes you squeeze your thighs together.

“Leon,” your slurring speech makes his brows furrow, his lips downturned, “play with me.”

A low sound rumbles deep in his chest when you continue to prod at him, is he seriously growling at you? This dog has no manners whatsoever. Seriously, who raised him? It can’t have been Chris. “Leon,” you drag it out this time, whining as you clamber on top of him.

Sniffing his neck, you lick at his Adam’s apple, watch as it bobs when he swallows. He opens his eyes, glares at you through light lashes, swats at your face.

“Play with me, Leon,” your bottom lip juts out, giving him those eyes that no one is able to say no to. None of the pet shop workers could, and Chris certainly can’t, so Leon should surely fall for it.

Leon’s eye twitches, his lip curls upwards, flashing those big teeth of his. It’s a warning that you take with a grain of salt. “Leon, ‘m wanna play,” you say again, wriggling on top of him, your hands planted on that firm chest of his.

You’re a pest. A mutt at best. A bother, a hindrance, all of the above. Leon doesn’t know many other words. He has no clue on whose idea this was, couldn’t have been Chris on his own, must’ve been his sister. Or the lady with the pixie cut, one who brings him treats whenever she visits. ‘Cause Chris knows him well enough. Knows that Leon likes to be alone lately. That a new puppy is just an extra mouth to feed for Chris. He doesn’t need company, doesn’t appreciate a hyperactive pup kneeing him in the gut every hour in an attempt to play some kiddy games.

Total cutie. He’ll give you that. Soft and sweet like all puppies are. Floppy ears, fluffy tail, cute teeth that don’t do much damage. Droopy tits, layer of pudge that puppies tend to have, full hips, and a pert ass.

Now, Leon would never hurt you on purpose. It’s why he sticks to threats he never follows through with. Snarling, baring his teeth, the regular shit. Would get any normal pup scampering away from him, but you’re spoiled rotten. You get what you want at the drop of a hat. He blames that on Chris. Old age has made him sappy. Old age has only made Leon feel like shit. His bones ache on the daily, can’t even get up to bark at the mailman anymore, his walks have been cut down to half an hour once a day, finds it harder to chew on those dental bones Chris tosses him. Stressful times. And the cherry on top of his shit sandwich is you. The little nuisance who insists on bothering him no matter what.

“Leon,” you start again, talking in that high-pitched tone, an excessive amount of spit garbling your speech, “play!”

Christ, you don’t know when to give up. He gives you a light shove, hopes it’s enough to deter you, of course that's just wishful thinking. You bounce back fast. Pressing your forehead to his, you muster up your nastiest glare. Cute. You’re cute when you do that. “Play with me.” Each word is punctuated by your fists smacking down on his chest.

You’re hovering over him, bare bottom on his clothed lap, tits pressed flush to his chest. Every piece of clothing Chris tried to put on you was deemed itchy. Snipping off the labels never helped, you seem to only like cashmere, expensive taste. So he gave up. Lets you wander around in your birthday suit.

“I don’t want to play,” Leon gets out through gritted teeth, expression contorting into one of restraint when you rock your hips back and forth absentmindedly. You’re being playful. Trying to get him up, trying to get any sort of reaction from him. But he can feel you. Leon’s been out of business for a long time. He was so damn sure his dick had malfunctioned a couple years back. No seed left to spare. This old dog was dried out.

This is all it took to get him fixed up? Puppy cunt? God. What a sicko. He sits up, hands on your hips to still you. Your brow quirks in confusion, blinking at him dumbly. Poor puppy. Don’t even know how wet you are. How your heady scent is coating the walls, making it unbearable for Leon to even breathe. He’s going fuckin’ crazy.

Leon pins you down, hair hanging in your face as he hovers over you. “Playing?” You ask him, face lighting up at the prospect of getting him to join in on your games.

Oh, he’ll teach you a new game, alright. It’s cute how you act all haughty, get Chris running around like a headless chicken ‘cause you’ve got so many demands, when really you’re just a stupid pup. Can’t even take care of yourself. Walkin’ around with this drippy pussy, an itch so deep in your core you can’t scratch it. Leon can’t lie, he’s cracked open an eye to see you trying your best to get rid of it. The ache in your lower belly. Rubbing yourself all over that pink teddy Chris brought back after a trip. Pressing its wet snout deep into your cunt to get rid of that strange tingle, but to no avail. Leon found it a little funny. He remembers being that way.

The sound you let out when he spreads your fat pussy is adorable. A whine that borders on a yelp. You’re frightened and confused for a moment, until his fingertips find your swollen clit, pushing back the hood, swiping over it again and again. Then you melt into a puddle of goop. That’s right. Must feel so damn good. You’ve got a chubby cunt, pillowy lips that hide your bud from his view, fluffy fur all over your tummy and crotch that’ll shed in a few months time and grow back in a darker shade. Cute little thing. He’s gonna eat you up.

He bullies his way between your thighs. Your scent is so much thicker now. Clinging to his skin in a way he’ll be unable to wash off. The first swipe of his tongue through your folds has your hips bucking up, pelvis mashing into his nose a little painfully. Leon makes sure to hold you down. You’re sugary sweet in his mouth, like he’s bitten into a ripe fruit. Your pussy sure is the sweetest peach he’s ever seen.

“Leon…” you grab at his ears, tug on them to combat the immense pleasure that tears through you. Ouch. He’s gotta get Chris to trim those claws of yours down.

His hand is splayed across your tummy, holding you down as he buries his face in your cunt. Leon nips at your inner thighs then goes back to making those obnoxious noises that any lady with dignity would be mortified by. But you’re a stupid puppy that can’t tell left from right. Eyes rolling back into your skull as he slurps away, lips smacking noisily, his tongue fucking in and out of that tight hole.

Your toes curl in your fluffy socks, hips arching up despite his hold on them, pussy gushing like a burst pipe all over him. “There you go, atta girl,” Leon hums, flicking your clit one last time for good measure. He smiles at the sound you let out, a pitchy yap of irritation.

More where that came from. You got him all worked up. That hasn’t happened in years. His cock is dripping, a wet patch forms in the front of his sweats that he’s quick to lower. Your mouth waters at the sight, smiling at him all dopey. It’s instinct, it seems, for you to be a greedy, cock-hungry little pup. Leon’s all for enthusiasm, so he’ll give it to you, reward the spoiled little pup.

He’s sheathed inside of you in no time. You’re made for this sorta thing. Made to be a breeding bitch if he wants to get crude about it. So he doesn’t worry too much ‘bout how you’re adjusting. Just moves his hips forward sharply, fat tip jabbing at your cervix, and watching as you tremble.

“Mmm, Leon,” your nails scratch down his chest, ears flattening against your head as you gaze up at him with starry eyes. This all it takes to calm you down? Some dick? Leon’s willing to give it whenever you get rowdy. Spit pools in your mouth, dribbles down your chin, and he’s quick to lick it up. You don’t know how to kiss him. But you try. It’s clumsy and open-mouthed, your tiny hands cupping his stubbly cheeks as you just kinda slobber all over the lower half of his face. That’s alright. Leon got the hang of it after about five years. He can teach you.

You’re sucking his dick in, pussy tight around him like a vice, his balls slap against your ass. It’s so good. Fuck. He should’ve done this sooner. Should’ve jumped you the moment Chris brought you home. What an idiot. He was basically gifting Leon a living fuckdoll and he missed out on it for a good month or so. You’re so easy, kicking your legs, and digging your nails into his biceps as you cream on his fat cock, leaving a ring of milky white around the base.

He’s old now, can’t help the way his breath is a little ragged as he nears his high, can’t last as long as he used to. Don’t matter anyway. ‘Cause you’re satisfied. He fills you up like a creampuff. There’s a little surprise on your face when his knot begins to swell, stretching your cute hole till it’s gaping.

“Fun.” You tell him with a sleepy smile. Leon’s tongue smooths over your fluffy ears, he remembers his fur being this soft. They’re wet with perspiration, but he likes the taste of you. He grooms you to his heart's content. It’s been a while since he’s done any of that. Makes him feel rather happy actually. Like a weight has lifted from his chest. You’re falling asleep so he manages to roll over, careful not to move too fast and tear you in half while he’s knotted. He has you on top of him, face in his neck as you snore lightly. The warmth is putting him to sleep too.

Leon only stirs when he hears the jingle of keys and a few voices from down the hall. You’re still knocked out and drooling. The front door opens, Chris is talking to someone he tries to pick up on through smell.

“Jesus, buddy, what’d you do to her?” Chris kneels down beside them, pats Leon’s head then yours.

“They do get along well, Chris,” it’s Rebecca, she’s smiling down at Leon, he can sniff out those expensive treats in the pocket of her winter coat. “Guess it’s just when you’re around.”

“No, no, I swear,” he holds his hands up in defence, “Leon’s always being a fuckin’ bastard when it comes to her.”

“You’re just being mean to him,” Rebecca says, cooing as she pinches Leon’s cheek, “hey, there, good boy.”

“Yeah,” Chris lets out an exasperated laugh, “sure, whatever, glad you like your new pal, buddy.”

#resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #my fics

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empresskylo · 7 months

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beneath the mask ✩ chapter 9 ⬅ch.8

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. anxiety. violence. wc 5.1k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | ok here it is! i finally had to give the reader a call sign (it would have been really hard to write this chapter without one) so thank you to everyone who suggested names!

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you sighed as you sank back into the metal folding chair, holding your cards up and pretending to think. you decided your hand was no good so you tossed your cards face down on the table. “I’m out.” you probably would have gone out even if you were dealt a good hand. you just didn’t feel up to playing with your usual bravado.

The three men in front of you gave you a precarious look. “what?” you asked them.

soap, gaz, and price looked between each other. “you okay, lass?” soap asked.

“fine.”

“right…” gaz murmured, looking back down at the cards in his hand, his eyes flickering to you then at soap.

soap wanted to press the issue, but not in front of the other two men. Instead, he let you sulk as you played your round of cards, watching as you seemed to be zoned out on something else entirely.

after losing all your money, you pushed yourself up out of your chair, ready to retire for the night. “i’ll see you boys in the morning,” you muttered.

“ya sure you don’t wanna play another round? we can let ya buy back in,” price said as he side-eyed soap.

“i’m good. you guys have fun.” you turned and left.

price glared at soap. “what?” he asked.

“go talk to her,” price replied, gesturing his head in the direction you just walked off.

“i don’t really think she’s in the talkin’ mood. she’s been rather scary lately.”

“y’wanna know what’s scary?” price said with an intimidating lilt in his voice.

soap’s eyes widened and he put his hands up in defeat. “okay, okay.” he didn’t want to have to be lectured by price, so he made the smart decision and did what he said.

soap went to walk away but turned back to the two men, pointing at gaz. “don’t look at my cards!”

gaz just laughed as soap jogged down the hall to catch up with you. he turned a few corners and spotted you as you were making your way back to the barracks.

he called out your name and he saw your shoulders stiffen, but you didn’t turn around.

“hey,” he said as he matched your pace.

“what?” you grumbled, not in the mood. not only were you exhausted, but you were still seething with anger from a few nights ago.

“you gonna tell me what’s been botherin’ you?”

you shook your head and let out a pained laugh. “nothing’s bothering me.” you gave him a strained smile. “see.”

soap draped an arm around you, pulling you against him. you groaned in response.

“com’on, love.”

you sighed, placing your hands on soap’s side and pushing him away. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

“but–”

“i’m serious, soap. just… leave it. okay?” you said exasperated.

soap could tell whatever it was that was bothering you had been personal because you were on the verge of tears. he nodded, not wanting to be the one tipping you over the edge and making you cry. “okay. but i’m here if ya need me.”

you gave him a tight-lipped smile before turning and going into your small room.

soap sighed, walking backward before spinning around and strolling back to the guys with his hands in his pockets.

price and gaz looked up as he entered the room. “she okay?” gaz asked.

“she didn’t wanna talk about it,” soap replied, flashing a quick told-you-so glare at price.

“maybe I should go say somethin’,” price pondered out loud.

soap chuckled. “no offense, but if she didn’t wanna talk to me, she definitely doesn’t wanna talk to you.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

gaz and soap shared a look, stifling their smirks.

“nothin’. let's just keep playin’.”

you twirled your hands together anxiously as you made your way to the mess hall. it was roughly one in the afternoon and you were on break. an all-too-happy soap matched your stride, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“afternoon, lass.”

you gave him a weak smile, but that was all you could muster in greeting. usually you found it easy to be in sync with soap, but it was difficult when you were in a sour mood.

“you ready for tomorrow?” johnny asked you as you both collected a tray and picked out your mediocre food.

“ready as i’ll ever be, i suppose.”

soap didn’t like the way you still seemed to be caught in some weird mood – like you were stuck in a never-ending sour daydream. you were acting like you were stuck in purgatory with the way you sulked about. you reminded him of a ghost.

“wonderful,” he said mockingly.

you both walked side by side into the hall, looking for a place to sit. “what?” you asked soap.

“just can’t wait to be paired up with your gloomy ass and ghost, who's been in a foul mood for days now.”

your feet stopped moving, catching soap off guard. he spun to meet your eyes. “you okay?”

“yeah… we’re paired up with lt.? i thought he wasn’t coming…?”

“price had to stay behind. sendin’ lt. in his place.” soap gave you a peculiar look. “you sure you’re okay? you look like you’re about to be sick.”

“yeah. let’s just eat,” you said, wanting to change the subject. you could wallow in self-pity later.

when you spotted the table soap was approaching, you grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him back. ghost was lounging on one of the seats across from gaz, discussing something that looked important, but gaz was clearly just trying to eat and wanted no part in ghost’s discussion.

“let's sit somewhere else,” you said rushed.

“what? why?”

“johnny, please . just sit somewhere else with me,” you begged.

soap could read the plea in your eyes. he turned from you, back to the table, then back at you. he was slowly piecing something together. “okay,” he agreed, letting you drag him into one of the lounge rooms.

you both sat down, your eyes glued to your food, not wanting to meet johnny’s gaze.

“so,” he started. “you gonna tell me what that was about?”

“i just… i just didn't want to interrupt them.”

johnny raised a brow. “is something goin’ on between you and ghost?” he finally asked.

your eyes flickered up to his, almost dropping your fork onto your plate, then you looked anywhere but at him. “n-no.”

soap continued to eye you curiously as he began piling his food into his mouth. “you can tell me, y’know?”

you bit your lip. you wanted to tell him, but you were still so fucking embarrassed.

when you looked up at him, you noticed your vision was blurry. oh shit . you quickly used your sleeves to wipe your eyes as the tears began to roll down your cheeks. you rolled your eyes and let out a sardonic laugh, frustrated with the fact that simply thinking about things was making you cry. johnny stopped mid-bite and gaped at you. you could see the gears turning in his head.

“ lass ,” he said softly, trying to coax whatever was bothering you outwards.

you gave a mirthless laugh, continuing to wipe your eyes as the tears kept falling. “i– uhm…”

johnny set his fork down and gave you his full attention. a part of you loved that he cared so much about you, but another part of you wished he would at least keep eating and not stare you down as you tried to open up about something that had been haunting you. it was intimidating.

“that night at the bar… uh…” you took in a breath. god, you felt so stupid saying it out loud.

“does this have somethin’ t’do with you comin’ back from the bathroom cryin’?”

you nodded slowly, as if debating admitting this or not.

“i take it you weren’t actually cryin’ because of pms then…”

you nodded again and smiled dully remembering how you assured soap you were fine and just pmsing. he was hesitant to take that as the truth, but made no show of it in the moment.

johnny waited patiently for you to explain. “this is gonna sound so lame, but i may have developed a little crush on lt.” you didn’t want to say his name, so you were resorting to ranks.

“okay…”

“and, well… i thought he hated me. he was always so snippy whenever i was around. i accepted it. it was just a silly crush. i knew nothing would come of it.” you swirled your fork in the mashed potatoes on your plate. “well, then i thought he was starting to warm up to me. he told me his name. his real name. he was slowly letting me in. i thought that maybe we were becoming friends. i had seen how he acted with you… i just wanted him to accept me.”

johnny nodded, scooting closer to you, his chair making a screeching noise as he did, so he could rest a hand on your shoulder. you looked at where he touched you and smiled. but your grin faded just as fast as it appeared. “then at the bar last week…” you nervously pushed your hair behind your ear. “he caught me in front of the bathrooms. he was asking me if me and you were together…” soap blushed. “he was so hung up on the fact that there was something between us… i asked him why he cared so much, y’know? i was drunk and not piecing things together. and then he lifted his mask and….” your words slipped away.

you looked up at soap and saw his eyes widen ever so slightly. “lt. kissed you?” he said in bewilderment.

“he did more than just kiss me,” your voice cracked at the end of your sentence.

anger suddenly filled soap’s countenance. “and you didn’t want to?” he asked, his voice noticeably darker than earlier.

“no,” you shook your head at soap, making eye contact. “no! he didn’t force me. it’s not that.”

“then what?”

“he said it was a mistake!” you almost shouted. it was therapeutic to finally get that out. “that i was just another body to him.” you gulped. “and, gods, that fuckin’ hurt. he made it seem like it was more than just that for him. i know i sound stupid. i mean i let him fuck me in the bar’s bathroom for god’s sake, and now here i am, surprised it didn’t mean a thing to him.” you buried your face in your hands with a loud sigh. “fuck,” your words were muffled by your hands.

soap said your name so you would look at him. “you’re not stupid for thinking that.”

all that was racing through soap’s mind was how ghost had used you. he took the knowledge of your crush on him and manipulated that information to benefit him. soap’s hands squeezed into fists.

soap’s eyes traced along your features, his hand coming out to wipe the tears staining the underneath of your eyes. he gave your chin a little nudge as he removed his hand and you smiled. “y’know, come to think of it. i don’t think i’ve known ghost to have hooked up with anyone since i’ve met the bastard.” something sharp panged in your chest. “he’s a reclusive guy… maybe he just isn’t sure how he’s feelin’.”

“he made it pretty clear,” you said with annoyance.

soap flinched. he wanted to comfort you, and he wanted to believe ghost was a good man, but he also wanted to punch him in the face right about now. too many conflicting feelings were brewing inside him.

johnny went to speak again but you cut him off. “let’s just move on, okay? now you know why i’ve been upset. i just… i just need a bit of time to lick my wounds. i’ll be okay. i’m okay,” you gave him a half-hearted smile.

you stood in the briefing room of the large aircraft with ghost, soap, gaz, and laswell. you shifted uncomfortably next to soap, scanning your eyes about the room, looking anywhere but at ghost.

“there’s a hatchery being used by the cartel as a smuggling front off the coast of spain,” laswell said, pointing at the map sprawled on the table.

“perfect for moving illegal cargo,” soap said looking up.

“or missiles,” ghost added.

“we need eyes inside, but it’s heavily guarded by cartel. there are four structures and a lighthouse. surrounded by nothing but sea and grasslands.”

“hm. high grass lends itself to concealment in the right gear,” soap said.

“ghillie suits,” you turned to look at gaz who was piecing things together.

“precisely,” soap responded.

“if you four take to the high grass, i can watch the coast for movement and provide exfil by boat,” laswell stated, standing up a little straighter and looking at the motley team in front of her.

“don’t like the idea of you bein’ out there all alone,” johnny said to kate. “price definitely wouldn’t like it. one is none .”

“four’s already a crowd. we have no jurisdiction here, soap.”

“i can go with laswell,” you chimed in. you knew you weren’t going to be much help on land with the other three men. what good could you provide other than slowing them down? and maybe you wanted to get away from ghost, but that wasn’t the main reason you volunteered to tag along beside laswell.

“no,” ghost spoke, not even bothering to look at you.

you felt soap tense beside you. “don’t be stupid! i’m not going to be of any help on land. let me go with laswell. i’ll be better used as an extra pair of eyes,” you argued. no one commented on you calling your lieutenant ’stupid’ and you were thankful for it.

ghost clenched his fist, still refusing to give you even a glance. he knew he had no good defense as to why you couldn’t go with laswell.

there was a beat of silence before laswell spoke up. “then it’s settled. you’ll come with me, iaso ” she said, gesturing her head at you. “the rest of you… roll low and slow. this is unauthorized recon by fire. we’re off the books.”

iaso . you couldn’t help but stifle the smile at your call sign. you felt like part of the team now that soap had deemed you iaso. he said he had been on a greek mythology kick, reading all sorts of fantasy books involving the gods and goddesses. iaso was the greek goddess of cures, remedies, and other modes of healing. soap said he immediately had thought of you when he read her name. you were thankful you got the nickname from a greek goddess before someone else could dictate you as something far more insulting. you were starting to worry someone was going to call you azrael – the angel of death – or something like flatline, as a joke.

the group began to shuffle, getting ready to split and prepare for landing, all now ready to take their position.

“i’ll call you when we’re in position. let’s find these missiles before hassan puts them in our backyard.”

you slid out of the room alongside soap. “you sure you okay with this?” he asked you.

you looked up at him, nudging his shoulder. “i can handle anything,” you said with a cheeky grin.

soap tried to reciprocate your mirth but he fell short. ever since you told him what happened between you and lt. he’d been struggling to let it go. he didn’t appreciate hearing about one of his friends getting walked all over by her superior. especially when he thought ghost was a good guy.

you gave him a sigh, stopping so he’d turn to face you before you departed to go find laswell and get ready with her. “i’ll be fine, johnny. i swear it.”

he rested a hand on your shoulder. “i know ya will. jus’... don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

“no promises.”

he pulled you in for a quick hug then gave you a mock salute. “until we meet again.”

you laughed at him and returned the gesture before strolling past him. soap would meet up with gaz and ghost, getting suited up in their ghillie gear. you would meet with laswell and follow her orders as you made your way to whatever boat she was going to have you both in.

this would be the first time you’d be away from soap on a mission like this. granted, he was still technically in the same vicinity, but it still felt like a whole new situation to you. you were really pushing things out of your comfort zone this year, that was for sure.

soap stood in the small bay, slipping on the camouflage equipment and gear beside the other two men in silence. gaz could feel the tension in the air. soap couldn’t hide the shroud of anger that covered him any longer.

gaz went to fetch more ammo, leaving soap and ghost alone in the room. ghost could feel johnny glaring at him and he finally caved, giving him just what he wanted. “what?” he grunted at the scottish sergeant, giving soap the opening he needed.

he scoffed as he aggressively pulled his tactical gear littered with fake grass over his chest. “i’ve defended ya, ya know?”

ghost strapped on his gloves and turned to face the man. “what the bloody hell are you talkin’ about, soap.”

“contrary to what others say, i know you’re a good guy, lt.” he sat on the bench behind him and yanked on his boots, pulling the laces taut, almost to the brink of ripping them off his shoe entirely. “would die for ya if it came down to it.”

“what’s your point, johnny?” ghost asked as if he had better things than to be talking with soap right now.

“i know what ya did to her,” soap said, looping his laces.

ghost tensed, his movements stuttering before resuming his usual pace. he knew you were friends with soap, so he knew it was a possibility you’d tell him what happened. but some part of ghost – some depraved part that was surely going straight to hell – hoped you were embarrassed enough to keep this to yourself. of course that was wrong of him to want. everything he seemed to do with you was wrong. but he didn’t want to face the repercussions of his own actions. he was a fucking coward. he deserved everything soap was about to say.

“thought you better than that, lt.”

ghost didn’t like how soap kept referring to him as lieutenant. it felt like a jab. “i never said i was a good man, johnny.”

soap shook his head and laughed. “that’s bullshit, and you know it.”

ghost glared at the man. he had strapped and re-strapped his belt on six times now. he couldn’t concentrate.

“i know ya like t’think of yourself as some big bad guy – beyond savin’. as someone with no morals. but i know it’s not true. i’ve seen it. yer not the villain they all make ya out t’be. i didn’t think ya had it in ya to hurt her like that.”

ghost shook his head, slamming his fist into the metal locker before him. “fuck, soap. i messed up, okay? i shouldn’t have played her like that. is that what you wanted to hear? that i’m sorry?”

soap stopped gearing up and rested his elbows on his thighs, looking at the other man across from him. “i’ve never seen ya hook up with a lass before now.”

ghost rolled his eyes behind his mask. “well, i’d call you a pervert if you did.”

“you know what i mean, lt.” soap ran his hand through his short mohawk. “she’s different.”

ghost averted his eyes, wanting to get his gear on as fast as he could to escape this dreadful conversation. “she’s not.” he was lying .

it was like soap could sense it, and ghost hated that about him. “what’s wrong, ghost? why are you doin’ this t’her? t’yerself?”

ghost pursed his lips before spinning back to look at soap. “i don’t deserve her.” there . he said it. he finally fucking said it.

soap raised a brow at his lieutenant. “i’ll just end up hurting her. or worse… she’ll end up hurting me.” he felt like an idiot for saying this out loud. he sounded pathetic. like he wasn’t capable of normal human relationships. and maybe he wasn’t. maybe he’d never get to experience what he so desperately craved.

“y’know that’s not true,” soap said in a much calmer voice. he was afraid of getting too sappy. afraid that might turn ghost away. so, instead, he cleared his throat and pulled his gun up with him as he stood, strapping it over his back. “yer a good man, simon. and i think you know that deep down. don’t ruin a good thing before ya even let it happen.”

ghost’s eyes shifted to johnny, meeting his momentarily before soap slipped off down the hall, leaving ghost to collapse onto the bench and shove his head in his hands. he let himself wallow in self-pity for only a minute longer before he shoved it all down, as far as he could, and focused all his attention on the mission before him.

“watcher-2 to bravo–we’re in position, half a click off the coast. structures are visible. what’s your status?” you said into the comms.

“we’re set at our firing point. eyes on a pair of armed targets hiding in the field.”

it was ghost who responded. you hated that a chill ran down your spine at hearing his low voice over the comms like that.

“you’re green-lit. execute when able,” laswell said.

“rog’. stand by…”

you shifted your prone position on the boat, looking down the scope of your sniper, watching the coast to the right while laswell watched to the left.

“bravo, how copy–?” kate said.

“solid, watcher. two down.”

“good work. push forward, see what you can find.”

kate turned to you. “get them pulled up on the satellite. i wan’t you to be on their location at all times.”

you nodded and set your gun down – thankful for that since you still weren’t sure you had the confidence to even use a sniper properly. you pulled the bulky tablet out of the canvas bag beside you and tapped away, pulling up a digital screen showing three blinking dots out on the field.

“got ‘em,” you muttered.

you watched as the men moved slowly, likely crawling through the high grass.

“you’re coming up on the main buildings. you’ll see it from the top of the hill.” you said, letting them know their locations.

a few beats passed and the dots approached closer together.

“watcher–we’re set.” soap spoke into the comms.

“take out as many as you can from the op. start with the outliers.” laswell responded.

“solid, copy.”

ten minutes had passed with various callouts over the comms, constantly checking in on the boys’ locations.

they were now approaching the main hatchery.

“stay on point, boys…” laswell said.

“yes ma’am.” gaz replied.

“don’t ma’am me… remember, i can still outrun you…”

you smiled as you listened to the way laswell bickered with gaz. it was nice to see the relationship formed between the group. it gave you hope that this could become your family. that you would find your place here, too.

“looks like they’re headin’ underground,” you mumbled to kate. she stretched as she stared attentively down the scope of her gun, eyeing the coast.

“kate, we found a passageway.”

“good work.“ she replied.

“look at this,” you heard soap say.

“jackpot,” you could just barely make out gaz’s voice.

you looked up and to your right, off into the ebbing waters. a boat slightly larger than yours was coming into view on the horizon. your eyes widened and you jumped slightly, not expecting to see anyone else out here.

“shit, kate. we might have company.”

kate looked over her shoulder to where you were staring and made no signs she was worried.

“be advised. multiple boats approaching our position” she said.

“need help?” it was ghost who responded.

“could be fishermen. stay on mission.”

the men continued on and you felt your hands gripping the tablet tighter to the point of leaving marks.

“pick up your gun,” kate said to you. you nodded, putting the screen down and getting your pistol out of it’s holster on your hip. “stay calm.”

your hands and neck were sweating, your face going hot as the boat edged closer and closer. you had a gut feeling that these were not fishermen, and you think kate did too.

“kate, i’m in the tunnels, heading toward the coastline. you okay?” soap grunted.

“boats are still closing. no trouble yet.”

“i don’t like this, kate.”

“comes with the territory, soap–”

“you two shouldn’t be out there alone.” ghost chimed in, as if he had suggested something that would have prevented this situation.

“we’re not alone. we’re armed and dangerous, lieutenant. out.”

kate was dangerous. you were… just iaso… a healer. your hands were shaking on your gun as the boat got close enough that you could hear arabic voices. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cursed.

“i think we’ve got problems here, soap.”

“copy, stand by.”

kate nodded her head behind her, urging you to get back. you made your way to stand behind her as she propped her gun up and held it at the ready.

“boats are closing in. looks like aq–they have weapons…” there was clear panic in kate’s voice now as she spoke over the comms.

the boat slammed into yours, making you both stumble backward. suddenly, the loud steps of boots echoed on the deck.

“contact! engaging–!”

“kate!” soap shouted.

ghost turned to soap. “fuck, they’re boarding.” he sprinted to the edge of the tunnel, seeing the boats off on the coastline.

“kate.. iaso…?!” ghost shouted after the quick lull.

“laswell!” soap called.

“fuck! what the fuck-! i can’t see whats happening…!” gaz sputtered as he had his gun pointed in the direction of the boats, trying to use his scope to watch the events unfold.

“they have them hemmed in–they’re surrounded.” soap added in a rush.

“al qatala’s on the boat, they’re taking it or us…” kate finally spoke over the comms.

“drop your weapon, drop your weapon or you will die without mercy–!!”

ghost’s fist clenched as he heard you yelp in the background.

“i will not surrender!” kate spat.

ghost shook his head and cursed kate’s name. he wouldn’t expect anything less from her, but he couldn’t help but be bothered by the fact that she was putting you through this as well.

“take her, take her!” arabic voices echoed on the comms.

the three men looked at one another, completely helpless.

“let’s go brothers, take her now, now!”

“comply, comply, you are a prisoner in the name of al qatala.”

“--get your fucking hands off of me–!!” it was your voice that haunted the comms now. ghost growled, marching towards the edge of the tunnel to look out beyond the waters. he could see movement, but couldn’t make out any details.

they had you. they had you and laswell.

“ouch! fuck–!”

ghost’s hand grabbed the mic on his vest, pressing the button as he spoke.

“iaso! just comply. don’t fight it… we’ll get you out of this.” he didn’t know if you could hear him, but he heard the shuffle of a struggle as the men took hold of you and laswell.

“laswell! iaso!” soap called.

the three men stared speechless at one another. they’ve been through similar things before, so why was this so different? why were they so shaken by the capturing of you and kate?

the men gathered on the outskirts of the hatcheries where a bloodbath lay on the grounds. they looked in at a laptop, the screen depicting you in a car, knocked out, with a gun held towards your body.

the camera was blurry as it shifted to show kate behind you in a similar position.

“this is proof of life,” soap said.

“where did this come from?” ghost asked.

“urzikstan” shepherd responded over the radio.

“look…” soap pointed at laptop screen where the video continued to play. “they’re pointing east.”

“likely to al mazrah.”

“they get the girls underground there, we’ll lose them for good,” gaz said sullenly.

“we’ll lead the rescue team,” ghost said as he paced back and forth.

“that’s not gonna happen, ghost,” shepherd said flatly.

“say again, general,” gaz asked, clearly taken aback by shepherd’s words.

“this is a tug o’ war, boys. we need to pull back, not lean forward.”.

“since when?” gaz said as he rolled his eyes.

“since now,” shepherd dictated. “we can’t just send in the cavalry. these things take planning and preparation.”

“these things take violence and timing. i can do both. they’re lives are in a fuckin’ hourglass,” ghost growled at shepherd.

“i know you’re upset, lieutenant. this happened on your mission and that’s a tough pill to swallow.”

“are you telling me we leave her–them?” ghost asked aghast. what would he do if shepherd gave the orders to leave the two of you? would ghost fall in line and listen? he wasn’t so sure. but he knew this was going to end in bloodshed one way or another.

“i’m telling you i can’t help you…” shepherd said a little more softly. “but i won’t stop you.”

“i’ll have them back in 12 hours,” ghost said without even thinking, walking away from the laptop as the helicopter began to land, sending gusts of wind at the men.

“don’t die doin’ this, simon.” shepherd sighed over the radio, his voice getting muffled by the helicopter. “laswell and iaso wouldn’t want that. i don’t either.”

“general, i thought kate was your friend?” gaz asked, watching ghost as he walked further away, his eyes shifting to soap who was tentatively listening.

“war isn’t about friends. it’s about enemies. good luck”

and with that, shepherd cut out.

the helicopter landed and gaz shut the laptop and grabbed his things.

“we’re going head to head with aq on their home turf. they’re going to have hundreds more protecting laswell and iaso.” gaz said as he followed behind soap. “we need an army.”

“i can get us an army.” ghost jumped onto the helicopter, turning towards the pilot’s seat. “nik!” he called out over the powerful whirling of the copter’s blades.

“where to?” nik asked over his shoulder.

chapter 10 ➡

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #beneath the mask

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agendabymooner · 10 months

Text

she's everything... and he's just mick ! mick s. x ofc (filipino!nanny!ofc)

summary: in the first race of the season, the vettels made their appearance as a family of three (or four) as kimi vettel debuts as the newest vettel of the grid and a mick schumacher fan. OR let me introduce barbara elisandra 'barbie' blanco - the woman that the vettel couple fostered for years who now takes care of the two year old boy alongside kimi's uncle mick.

content warning: smau + article. quality kimi vettel (oc) content, some hater getting ratio'd, lewis is a retired king (yes king get that rest), everyone loving kimi, barbie and mick = barbie and ken, three racing team admins fighting on the comment section, drivers also fighting in the comment section (ate = term of endearment)

note: i told y'all i'm gonna continue on with the kimi vettel/crazy rich wife saga 😭 and to all of the users who made my favourite f1 fics— i see you 👀 i’m here and i’m lurking and i’m enjoying

masterlist

barblanco posted a story !!!

tagged mickschumacher, belongvettel

liked by barblanco, georgerussell63, lewishamilton

mercedesamgf1 to answer your question: YES, we got our new mercedes ambassador not one- but TWO mercedes cars. uncle mackie said to get him one, but uncle toto said make it double✌️

lewishamilton those are some nice whip, kimi! you don't mind if you take them for a spin with roscoe, do you? 🐶🥶 liked by mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1 kimi has a lot of furry friends, but the vettels said there's always room for one more!

user1 as we said: BEST VETTEL IN THE GRID

user2 mickschumacher is slowly transforming kimi vettel into a mini mick schumacher and i am here to sit and admire 🥰

mercedesamgf1 like father, like son 🤗

georgerussell63 still upset he wouldn't let go of mick 🙂 liked by mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1 there's always a next time george!

mickschumacher look at my boy!!! ❤️🤍 liked by mercedesamgf1

belongvettel we started seeing double when he wore that race suit 😅 thank you so much for your warm welcome! kimi definitely loved being around you all and we're looking forward to attend a couple more rounds! 😍 liked by mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1 anything for our newest favourite vettel!!!

tagged belongvettel, scuderiaferrari, mercedesamgf1

liked by barblanco, mickschumacher, landonorris

user1 how many outfit changes did he have to go through this week what 😭😭

user2 i think some photos were taken in different days 🤔

user3 bel's nightmare is seeing him in a race suit and a powered car 😂 makes me wonder how it went for the first few days

user4 i'm looking forward to seeing the vettels' gridwalk interview!!

f1 us too! 🥰

scuderiaferrari his name is KIMI and VETTEL for a reason f1

redbullracing ur so silly 🤪

mercedesamgf1 no you two are 🤣 scuderiaferrari redbullracing

user5 why are these teams fighting in the comment section?

landonorris he'd look nice on a papaya suit tbh

mickschumacher nah uh

georgerussell63 absolutely not.

maxverstappen1 look at him! can't wait to have a rbr sebastian 2.0 in the grid

mickschumacher ❌ wrong try again ❌

carlossainzjr false news max ❌

landonorris you couldn't be any more wrong lad ❌

charles_leclerc i disagree verstappen ❌

alex_albon belongvettel which team do you think kimi would compete for?

belongvettel none of them because seb won't take him racing on such dangerous places 🙂

mickschumacher boooooo that's not mercedes 👎

tagged belongvettel, barblanco, ginaschumacher

liked by landonorris, georgerussell63, estebanocon

ginaschumacher i actually came to see barbie and kimi but maybe mom went to see you? 😺

mickschumacher 😑

estebanocon its getting so obvious mick 😭

user1 what is getting obvious??? estie???

landonorris s-tier simping tbh 🙃

user2 y'all telling me mick is simping for kimi's nanny? 😏

user3 seb's about to act up frfr 😉

belongvettel my two boys!!! liked by mickschumacher

user4 HER TWO BOYS??? MICK REALLY IS A VETTEL 😍

barblanco you did sooooo good getting those points, mick! (i'm only learning about f1 please don't be mad) ❤️👏 liked by mickschumacher

mickschumacher thank you, liebe! i'm sure seb and i will be able to teach you more about it!

user5 no because it really is obvious 😺

user6 reading the fast lane daily article, i agree that she lives up to her name barbie bc she really can do anything 😻 i dont blame u for liking her liked by mickschumacher

user7 "liked by mickschumacher" LMAO OBVIOUS MUCH?! this man is giving "wahpsssshhh" energy fr

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konigbabe · 1 year

Text

propinquity

Pairing: bodyguard!Price x fem!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Tags/Warnings: smut; nsfw; dom!price; top!price; p-in-v sex; kinda an illicit relationship; age gap (still legal and consenting tho); AU world; oral sex (female receiving); outside sex; praise kink; penetrative sex

Summary: Being the daughter of the prime minister doesn't always come with privileges - especially after a terrorist organization publicly declares its intention of taking the lives of your family because of your father's decisions. The situation gets even worse when you have to deal with a bodyguard who is anything but pleasant to be around.

A/N: This is basically an AU - the premise is that Captain Price is an ex-SAS soldier who retired and became a bodyguard instead of creating TF 141.

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

The hand that was still holding you firmly against the tree trunk moved to your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly before he replaced his tongue with his fingers, lips moving upwards to eagerly lap on your painfully aching clit.

He brought you to a place of exquisite bliss. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of passion. You were lost in the moment, at this moment, and nothing else mattered.

The thing about having a permanent, over 180 centimeters-tall shadow is that it was not entirely familiar to you and made you feel peculiar. People would look twice when they saw you and him.

Price, as you'd come to address him, wasn't particularly fond of you either. He knew this line of work would mean meeting a variety of new people on a regular basis. What he didn't sign up for was, in his words, "babysitting a crude birdie who happened to be potty trained just yesterday".

There was no love-hate relationship nor any need for it; John was there purely as your protector, a man hired to guard your body and for the right remuneration, he was willing to do just about anything to make sure you were kept safe.

His presence awakened a feeling of safety within you. Despite his at-times harsh behavior, he always seemed to take care of you just the way you needed.

Sitting at your kitchen island, you looked at your dad in disbelief, feeling a sense of hopelessness but still clinging to a small thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could somehow change his mind. You had a pretty clear idea of what the outcome of this conversation would be before you even asked him, but the faintest spark of hope kept you from giving up.

"Dad, you can't possibly be serious about this," you groaned at the laptop screen, watching with exasperation as he exhaled heavily and slowly straightened his back.

"Darling," his voice was calm, a little raspy from his long day at work, "it isn't safe for you and you know it."

"But everyone is going there. My whole class is gonna be there. It's literally in the middle of the woods, do you seriously believe that some terrorists are about to attack me there? It's been weeks since that letter and nothing happened, it might even be a hoax."

Unfortunately, your complaints were not taken into consideration as you stared at your father with pleading eyes.

"I'm not going to repeat myself. This is my final decision and you are not permitted to go."

"Didn't you say that I should enjoy my university life to the fullest? Because in the last few weeks, the only places I've been to are my flat and classes. And this bloke," you pointed at Price, who was until this moment casually leaning against the counter with a cuppa in his hands, "is staring at my back 24/7".

Price, clad in a simple grey shirt tucked into his dress pants, raised an eyebrow and glanced at you, taking in the situation with a slow and calming breath. He paused for a moment before taking a sip of his tea, allowing the warmth of the liquid to soothe his nerves.

"You're right," your father gave a knowing nod before his eyes shifted away from you, "John?"

"Yes, sir," Price answered, his voice low and questioning. He put the cup on the kitchen island and made his way closer to face his boss, his strides slow yet confident. One arm was carelessly draped over the back of your chair while the other came to rest on the kitchen island for support. The faint smell of cigars and sandalwood, so specifically his, filled the air and indulged your senses as you felt his arm brush your shoulder. A sudden wave of warmth and comfort washed over you as you realized just how close he was.

Having been mere centimeters away from you, you looked up into his face, his freshly trimmed and styled beard looking so incredibly soft. You always wanted to sneak a touch to find out if it was as soft as it appeared or if he was one of those men with a beard full of harsh and prickly hairs.

How would he feel between your legs? Was he a man who took pride in his skillful use of his tongue, or was he someone who was eager to get his cock wet? Most of your past partners weren't particularly enthusiastic about performing oral sex on you...you blamed it on the fact that they were young. You had heard from your friend that older men were usually more traditional and preferred to be more generous with their tongues. You couldn't help but question - was Price one of those gentlemen?

Hearing your name fall from John's lips made you realize just how tightly you had clenched your thighs together, face dangerously close to the crook of his neck.

It's just hormones, just a surge of estrogen and progesterone that want me to breed, you shook your head in a desperate attempt to clear your befouled mind.

"You're staying in your bedroom tonight," your father said, "John will make sure you don't leave your room."

Sucking in your dry lips, you remained silent for a moment, your mind spinning with forbidden fantasies, the kind that left you feeling guilty and excited all at once.

"John, just make sure my daughter won't leave. I have a feeling she will be a troublemaker."

"I can handle a troublemaker, sir," your bodyguard said as you tried your best not to show any sigh of annoyance out of respect for your father.

"Good to know. Have a good night you two," with those words, the screen went completely black.

"Love you too, dad," you mumbled as you turned around, slipping under John's inviting arm and taking your keys.

"Where do you think you're going, birdie," John stepped slowly around the kitchen island, his eyes never leaving your figure. His arms were crossed over his chest as if to challenge you to a battle of wills.

"Going to the party," you mirrored his stance, "look, Price," taking a step closer and unfolding your arm, you stared into his eyes, "I am well aware that you are doing this for the pay grade. You don't really care about me but c'mon, you were young once too, I bet. Don't tell me you've never been to a party. I mean, we all have a right to have some fun, don't you think? If a party is what it takes to make this job easier, then why not? We all deserve to take a break once in a while, and I don't think it will hurt anyone if I just go and have some fun."

"My personal life is none of your bloody business," Price growled as he snatched the keys from your grasp.

"Now go to your room," he ordered, "and don't make me drag you there again."

"Unbelievable, Price, just unbelievable," you groaned in frustration and stomped your way to the bedroom, practically slamming the doors in anger to make it perfectly clear to Price just how irritated he had made you.

You laid down on the bed and listened to the sound of Price starting the shower. An idea popped in your head as you walked to the doors and tried to open them but they were locked.

You let out a loud, angry scream as you punched the doors a few times with all your might, your rage beginning to build up inside. He had really locked you in there.

Your hand throbbed from the constant pummeling it had taken as you slumped against the door, alone. Everyone else was at the party, enjoying their drinks, but here you were once more, cooped up in your flat with Price, unable to partake.

As you sat there, your chin resting on your knees, your gaze gradually shifted to the window. That should work.

“Screw you, John Price.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The bonfire danced before you as you stared into its flames, the taste of cheap alcohol lingering in your mouth bitterly, a reminder of the good whiskey, brand unknown, that Price kept in one of the cupboards, out of your reach - or so he thought. You remembered the feeling of that whiskey and how it filled you with warmth and a sense of contentment, something that this cheap alcohol could never give you.

The first time you chanced upon the bottle of scotch tucked away in the back of your cupboard was quite accidental. You suspected Price of being a drinker but had never actually seen him with a glass of liquor in his hand. However, while you were on the hunt for some sweets to satisfy your craving, you stumbled upon the half-empty bottle of scotch. Naturally, you couldn't resist pouring yourself a glass every now and then, and were certain Price had noticed you drinking it, yet he chose not to bring it up for some reason.

You wondered what he was doing, something you hadn't done before. This was the first time since you had met that you were without your shadow. It made you feel strangely uncomfortable, knowing his presence was missing and the sense of comfort he had brought you was gone, replaced by uncertainty. Something you had once found strange and unexpected in your life, but now had become a part of it, something you had grown fond of.

What will he do once he finds out the truth? Once he realizes you are gone? Your wandering thoughts made you check your phone absent-mindedly.

No missed calls, no unread messages.

"Do you think if we say his name three times, he will show up," your friend suggested, "like Bloody Mary?"

"Don't even joke about that," you let out a chuckle, sipping on your drink.

"John Price," another girl sitting by your side said, throwing her arm around you with a warm and friendly embrace.

"John Price," she repeated his name with a wide grin.

Something inside you shifted, a deep-seated emotion expanding and stretching through your chest like a tightly wound elastic band being slowly lengthened. Hearing your bodyguard's name coming from her mouth filled your body with a feeling you couldn't even begin to put into words. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you watched her repeat his name for the third time, the emotion in your chest slowly stretching and winding its way through your body.

A body squeezed itself between you and your girl friend. With a slight jump of your heart, you quickly glanced over to see the face of a boy you recognized from your classes, but one whom you had no idea who he was. He was someone you saw on a regular basis but had never spoken to.

"Hi there, ladies."

The moment his lips opened, you could smell the sharp, pungent scent of alcohol emanating from his mouth. You crinkled your nose in disgust, feeling his hand on the lower part of your back, like a vice-grip, as if attempting to keep you from running away from the situation, "How are we tonight? Are we having a good time?"

"Not anymore," your friend said standing up, "gonna grab us more drinks, be right back."

As you were left alone there, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, the desire to leave grew stronger as his hand kept lowering further down your back.

"Wanna go for a walk?" his lips brushed your ear as his hand rested on your bare thigh, the skirt feeling far too short as his fingers trailed their way up your leg.

"Not really, no," you choked out, putting your hand on his to stop his assault on your thigh.

"C'mon, just a fifteen-minute walk's all we need," he smiled, and in any other situation, you would have felt drawn to him, maybe even thought he was cute, but right now, all you wanted was to be invisible, to disappear and not draw any attention to yourself.

"I believe the lady said no," a firm voice declared with a commanding presence. A dark figure appeared before you, indulging you in his shadow as he stood with his back towards the bonfire.

"Bloody Mary," you exhaled, the tightness in your chest slowly dissipating as you stared into Price's eyes. He avoided making eye contact with you, instead focusing his gaze on the boy, who instinctively tensed up and shifted away from you in reaction.

Normally, his presence would fill you with annoyance, possibly ruining your perfect day, but now all you wanted to do was run into his embrace and feel the security of his arms around you.

The boy left without a fight, leaving an eerie stillness in his wake. You felt Price's eyes on you, and the silence seemed to stretch on forever. You could almost feel the tension in the air, and you had to resist the urge to break it. No matter how hard you tried, the quiet lingered, making the moment even more agonizing.

He extended his arm, offering you a hand to hoist you up from the grass, which you took gladly. His fingers squeezed yours and you felt like a tiny child again, overwhelmed by the size of his hand compared to yours. His warm grip was like a reminder of the safe comfort you felt when you held your father's hand as a child.

"You didn't have to come," you uttered the words silently, in the belief that your words wouldn't reach his ears, as he took your hand and led you away through the drunken crowd and into the silent depths of the woods, but he did indeed hear your words, despite the chaos around him.

"So, you're telling me that you want me to leave you here, all by yourself," he questioned as you ventured into the forest towards the spot where the parking lot was located, where his car was parked.

"No," you answered far too quickly, your cheeks becoming flushed with embarrassment. However, out of all the possible outcomes of your response, his genuine chuckle was something you had never expected in a million years. It was a sound that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, anything was possible.

Tugging at his hand, still clasped firmly in yours, both of you came to a stop in the middle of the moonlit darkness. His face was illuminated in the faint light, allowing you to see his features clearly.

"So you're not angry with me?"

"Oh, I'm bloody furious, birdie," he stated as you let go of his hand, heart pounding as you watched his eerily relaxed face, "you could've been in serious danger."

"No terrorists showed up," you replied, stepping towards him.

"That boy wasn't a terrorist but still a danger to you," Price stood resolutely, never once averting his gaze from yours, "my job is to protect you from any potential danger, to guard your body with everything I have. And I take my job fuckin' seriously."

With every word he said, heat raised in your body, the feeling spreading through your limbs like wildfire. You felt like you were melting into the moment, desire growing with each passing second. His voice was like a velvet caress, sending shivers down your spine as he spoke. You felt yourself leaning closer, wanting to be enveloped in his embrace.

His eyes, so deep yet light and warm, seemed to peer into your soul as he finished his sentence. You could feel the intensity that radiated from him. The longer you looked at him, the more alive he seemed to become, the more you felt a connection to him that seemed to defy all logic. You wondered what it would be like to touch those cheekbones, to trace the lines of his beard, feel the softness of his lips on yours.

The next thing you knew, your lips were tenderly pressed against his. Lasting only a second, you pulled away before Price managed to react.

I'm sorry," you whispered, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire.

"You're drunk," he mumbled.

"Not enough to not remember this tomorrow," you replied promptly.

A moment of silence indulged both of you like an invisible force, slowly drawing you closer. You both felt a connection that could not be denied, and the silence was suddenly broken by the sound of your beating hearts.

He looked into your eyes, his own reflecting the passion you felt inside. His hands moved to cradle your face, and his lips met yours again. This time, he took control of the kiss. His lips moved against yours, exploring, tasting and savoring each moment. His hands moved to the small of your back, drawing you closer and deepening the connection between the two of you.

The kiss was passionate, intense, and unlike anything you'd ever felt before. You could feel the emotion radiating between you, swelling in the air like a tangible force.

He kissed you deeply, his beard scratching your upper lip as he sucked your lower lip between his. It was soft after all, well taken for. You felt your back press against the rough surface of a tree trunk, and his hands caressing your body, only fueling the fire in the pit of your stomach.

Hoisting one leg on his hip, you felt his bulge pressing against your crotch, right where you desired him the most, igniting a passionate heat between your bodies.

"Price," you moaned as he grounded his hips into yours.

"It's John," he mumbled between the kisses, the delightful roughness of his beard making its path down your throat.

Your head fell back, feeling the coarse bark of the tree behind you. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze rush past you. Pressing your chest into John's, his hand moved from your knee to your inner thigh, squeezing it harshly as if he was trying to make his presence known...as if he was making sure this wasn't just a dream.

A desperate moan escaped your throat as his palm pressed against your core, feeling your wetness as his palm pressed against your throbbing clit. His other hand slowly moved on your body, tracing your curves as he reached your chest. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing them over your shirt and sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

John's lips connected with yours once again. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting and teasing you with each movement while his hand palmed you through your panties. You felt yourself growing closer to the edge already, releasing months of pent-up desire.

"Gonna have a taste," John groaned loudly as you ground your crotch against his palm shamelessly, "you comfortable with going higher?"

"What?" you exhaled slowly, your brows furrowing in confusion.

Without warning, his hands suddenly grabbed your hips and he took a step back, almost as if he had planned it. Your legs automatically locked around his head as he hefted you onto his shoulders, his arms outstretched to secure you in the position he desired.

You squealed and tightly gripped his hair as the first thing that came under your palm. You looked down, meeting John's eyes in the moonlight as he stared up at you with an amused and indulgent smile. This was actually the first time you’d seen him smile so much, radiating a warmth that was quite unfamiliar.

"You find this amusing?" you chuckle heartily.

“Well, you should see your face, love,” he looked at you, his hands tight around your thighs.

"Why did you even do it?" your hands gradually released their firm grasp on his hair as you steadied yourself against the tree so as to avoid falling.

"So I can do this," John answered and broke the eye contact, hooking your skirt on your hips.

His presence enveloped you and you could feel his breath on your aroused body. You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as he gently caressed your inner thighs, kissing the inside of your thighs, feeling the delightful scratch of his beard between your legs. Not wasting a second, he moved your soaked panties to the side and pressed his tongue flat against your core, melting you into him as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it in.

Moans of pleasure escaped your open lips as you let your bodyguard devour you like a man starved, his tongue thrusting inside you deeper than you could have ever imagined as his hands moved to knead the soft flesh of your breast hidden underneath your bra.

"Fuck, I approve of this," feeling the overwhelming ecstasy fill your body, you did everything you could to remain balanced enough not to fall even though you were certain John wouldn't allow that to happen.

"I knew you'd taste like bloody heaven," he murmured as the sound of John lapping on your wetness blatantly filled the quiet night.

Anyone could be walking in your direction any time on their way to the parking lot and see the shocking, scandalous image of the prime minister's daughter getting her pussy eaten like a five-star gourmet meal by her own personal bodyguard, whose head was currently buried deep between her legs.

"Keep goin'" you moaned in blissful euphoria, desperately pushing your hips into his face and locking his head between your legs as if you were afraid he was about to escape from you.

He groaned into your clit, sending vibrations straight to your core, only adding more pleasure to your already overheating body. His fingers plunged into you at a merciless speed, curling slightly upwards to search for that one spot he was determined to locate. A delightful knot tightened into your stomach as John brought you to the brink of ecstasy, and with one final thrust of his calloused fingers, you were swept away in a sea of unimaginable pleasure.

He kissed you on the clit one last time before pulling away and descending you down to the ground again with expertise while you were still drunk in his fingers, legs buckling before finding your footing again.

"John," you exhaled, flushed with desire as your hand extended to his painfully hard erection, still hidden underneath the dress pants he was wearing. He gripped your wrist, stopping your actions. Your eyes lost themselves in his, seeing how fueled by desire this man was, while John traced his fingers along your lips, painting them with your own juices before pushing them inside, watching as you sucked at his fingers, feeling the swirling of your tongue making him groan.

"Knew you'd be a good girl for me," he watched you clean his fingers for a brief moment before pressing his lips to yours.

"Do you want me," he asked between the kisses, his voice full of longing and passion.

"Yes," you replied instantly, hands finally sneaking to his pants as you brought him closer to your body, indulging yourself in his presence, in his sandalwood smell as you fumbled with his belt and zipper before palming his erection while keeping your lips locked together.

His breathing became labored as his hips started to thrust against your hand, making you smile as you felt his pleasure. You kept up the rhythm, your hand moving alongside the outline of his cock and sneaking into his underwear, spreading his leaking precum to lubricate his head. John groaned in pleasure as you took your time, exploring and teasing him until he could take no more.

"Condoms?" his breath fanned over your face as his eyes met yours.

"IUD," you kissed the corner of his mouth while he rutted against your palm. His breath came in short, shallow bursts as your touch electrified his body and sent waves of pleasure radiating through him.

Taking off your panties, your legs wrapped around his waist, locking at your ankles as you watched John stuff your underwear in his pocket. You angled your hips to meet his eager cock, pressing your body firmly against his as you kissed the side of his neck. His hands moved to take off your shirt, exposing your burning skin to the cold air and causing goosebumps to raise on your soft flesh. Your bra didn't last too long after that, and you were soon left wearing only your skirt, hooked around your hips. John's lips latched onto your nipples as he pushed his pants down, the head of his cock nudging your entrance and making you gasp softly as you were filled with anticipation.

His tongue circled your erected nipple as he pushed his cock inside you. Arching your back, you pushed your chest into his face. His hand sneaked between you and the tree trunk, fingertips tracing the natural curve of your spine.

"Fuck, love, the things you do to me," John said as he licked at your skin before blowing cold air onto the wet spots, elaborating on your ecstasy while thrusting slowly but deep inside your gummy walls, building up his pace steadily.

"Oh my God," your legs quivered as John continued his lustful assault on your chest, leaving you marked and radiating with blissful pleasure.

It didn't take very long for you to whisper the word "Faster" into his ear, and he happily obliged, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts. John's hips rocked rhythmically against yours as he found the perfect spot inside you that sent waves of pleasure surging through your entire body.

The shameful sound of skin slapping skin, and your wetness being filled with someone's cock, reverberated in your ears. John's hand made its way to your throat, his thumb caressing the front of it before he squeezed your jawline, bringing your face toward his for another kiss. His thrusts became more violent, and you could feel your walls squeezing him delightfully with each rough plunge.

“M’close,” you murmured softly into the kiss, feeling your back heat up as the rough bark of the tree pressed against it, the scratching and pain intensifying the pleasure that was coursing through you.

“C'mon, want you to cum around my cock,” he whispered against your lips, his thumb caressing your jaw as his other hand moved from your thigh to your throbbing clit, teasing and tantalizing the sensitive bud to bring you to the edge of pleasure.

You turned your head, your mouth enveloping his thumb as you began to suck and swirl your tongue around its tip. When your eyes locked with his, his body shuddered in response and he felt the pleasure of the moment coursing through his veins. John became was unable to break the gaze as you continued to play with his finger with your tongue, the sensations overwhelming his body.

His thrusts became sloppy and uncontrolled as he neared his climax.

"Cum for me, love," he whispered seductively in your ear, making your body quiver and moan with pleasure as his thrusts became increasingly passionate. As you reached the brink of orgasm, you felt his cock swell inside you and you clenched around him tightly, sending waves of delight through both of you as you finally came undone.

"That's it," John grunted against your skin, his tongue toying with your nipples again. A few powerful thrusts later, John was grunting and biting into your skin, sure to leave marks, as he finished inside you, staying still as he savored the moment - the feel of both your juices mixing together inside your pulsating velvety walls before slowly making its way out of you, drenching your thighs.

You panted heavily and leaned your head against the tree, your hands still firmly pressed against John's shoulders as he effortlessly held you close to his sweat-soaked body. As he slowly pulled out of you, a soft whimper escaped your lips at the sudden empty feeling. He hold you by your waist while his eyes followed the trail of cum going down your legs.

Taking your panties out of his pocket, he knelt on one knee before you and used them as a wipe to clean your hypersensitive core and the trail leading to the ground.

One final kiss later, John pulled up his pants, stuffed your cum-stained panties back into his pocket and deftly fixed his shirt before helping you dress on your shaking knees.

“You good, birdie?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, fixing your bra and tucking your shirt into your skirt while running your fingers through your hair to make it look less like you had just been ravished against a tree by your own bodyguard.

"We should go before someone sees us," John stated, looking in the direction you came from.

A genuine laugh left your lips, "now you're worried someone might see us?"

"You're funny, birdie," with a smile, he offered his hand to lead the way before falling slightly behind you and becoming your silent, stoic shadow once again.

“Can you walk all the way back," he asked as he observed you stumble slightly.

"Don’t flatter yourself, Price, doesn't suit you” you laughed it off as you continued walking towards the parking lot, your bodyguard trailing after you, a chuckle escaping him. His muscular form soon appeared next to you, and his arm slung around your waist to help steady you after you stumbled a few more times.

#captain price #john price #captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain price smut #john price smut #captain john price #captain john price x reader #cod #callofduty #codmwii #callofdutymodernwarfare2 #callofdutymodernwarfare #smut #moni writes #codmw

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tboygareth · 8 months

Text

follow me between the jaws of fate

written for @steves-strapcollection's birthday | rating: e | wc: 7,893 | cws: sex pollen, semi-dubcon, first time, virgin eddie, other tags can be found on ao3

happy birthday, ger bear. i love you so much. so. much. you mean the fucking world to me and i'm so glad i got to write this for you. never dilute yourself. your intensity is one of the best and most endearing things about you. <333

beta'd by @patchworkgargoyle and @stobinesque. cheerled, enabled, and encouraged by @sidekick-hero

READ ON AO3

It’s new, this thing between Eddie and Steve. So new, in fact, that between their work schedules and band practice and Hellfire and Steve and Robin’s Soulmate Bonding Sundays, the two of them haven’t exactly had… like… the time to, like… y’know. Not that they haven’t talked about it! (and talked about it and talked about it and talked a little more about it - at length, in the car on the way home from the diner and on the phone late into the night after Steve’s dropped Eddie off at the trailer and gone home to that stupid big empty house of his.)

It’s making Eddie crazy. He’s never been this hungry for someone in his life, and every time they’re together without being together Eddie feels like he’s going to snap. They’ve kissed - they kiss so much, in fact, that Eddie’s pretty sure he knows the shape of Steve’s mouth better than he knows his own - and just the other night Steve let him cop a feel during their make out session before he sent Eddie home to take care of his hard on by himself.

He’s pretty sure Steve’s been waiting for the right moment, waiting to make it special, because Eddie’s never done this before and Steve’s been talking about taking it slow, or whatever. But Eddie doesn’t fucking want to take it slow - the craving for Steve sits deep in the pit of his stomach and eats him alive and Eddie’s got nowhere to put that hunger. He’s jerking off more now than he ever did as a teenager, thinking of the way Steve’s hands feel on his face when they’re making out, the way his tongue tastes when he licks into Eddie’s mouth, the little sounds Steve makes at the back of his throat when Eddie opens for him.

One of these days Eddie’s just gonna have to get on his knees and beg for it - undignified, sure, but Eddie’s not above making a horny fool of himself if it means finally getting split open on Steve’s cock.

The day everything comes to a head is… normal. It’s a normal fucking day. Eddie gets up and he showers and he goes to work at the diner that Hopper went and spent the summer fixing up, where Eddie and the retired cop now trade lighthearted insults across the kitchen. Steve’s up front, running plates and charming the panties off of every old woman who walks through the door. It’s not a bad gig, this thing at Hopper’s diner, but Eddie hates the hairnet almost as much as he loves Steve’s goofy little grin every time they make the briefest eye contact through the expo window.

Eddie drinks so much coffee during his shifts that by midday he’s so jittery and anxious that he needs to get something fried and greasy in his system whenever there’s a lull in customers. He’s sitting on an overturned mayo bucket outside the propped open back door, fistful of fries in one hand and a cigarette in the other when Steve finds him. He plucks the cigarette from between Eddie’s fingers and takes a long drag.

“Thought you quit,” Eddie teases, the way he does every time Steve commandeers a cigarette from him.

“I did. Don’t tell Robin,” he smiles in return, happily continuing their little in-joke with a wink. “Skull Rock later?”

“Finally gonna have your wicked way with me, King Steve?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

It hangs between them like a living thing, this tension. Eddie would like that, and Steve would too, and eventually one of them will make it happen. Maybe today, maybe not. But eventually. Some days, when work’s been busy, they’ll sneak off to Skull Rock after their shift, just the two of them, to smoke a joint and work through a twelve pack of cheap beer together.

It’s late enough into September now that the leaves are beginning to change. It’s been doing wonders for Eddie’s mood; he’s never coped well with the heat and humidity of summer.

“Better get back in there,” Steve sighs, handing the cigarette back. “It’s about time for Mrs. Johnson to show up to try to set me up with her granddaughter again.”

“Have fun, slugger.”

“You too, and try to cut back on the coffee this afternoon, yeah? Little water never killed anybody.”

Eddie waves him off and goes back to his basket of French fries, dunking them into the pile of ketchup before shoving them into his mouth. Eddie loves their little Skull Rock dates. If you can call them dates at all. They are, but they’re not. Sure, it’s just the two of them atop the rock together. And sure, they talk about anything and everything under the sun while they drink and pass the joint back and forth. But they keep a respectable distance from one another most days. Until, of course, they get back to the privacy of Steve’s car where they can put their hands all over each other under the cover of night and not have to worry.

After work, they clamber into the Beamer and head to the convenience store. Steve buys a case of cheap beer and Eddie’s got his lunchbox in tow when they make it to their little spot, and then they help one another to climb up the face of the rock to sit together at the top. Steve tears back the cardboard and tosses a can to Eddie as he breaks up the weed to pick out the seeds and stems.

“Rob with Vickie tonight?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, they’re going into the city to see some foreign film Vickie’s been wanting to see.”

“God, she and Robin are kinda perfect for each other, huh?”

Steve hums, gazing down into his beer like his thoughts are far away. Steve hasn’t said anything about it, and he probably never will but… he’s jealous. Eddie can see it in the droop of his shoulders and the line between his eyebrows whenever they start talking about Robin and Vickie. It’s hard, when your best friend is in those beginning stages of a new relationship. You feel left out, a little lonely now that they’re cultivating something so fresh and new. Eddie can imagine that, for Steve, that feeling is even bigger.

For like a year, all they really had was each other, and Eddie’s gotten to know the two of them - their dependence on one another - pretty well over the last few months. Steve would never want to come across as needy or inconvenient, but he is needy and now that he’s gotten used to Robin being around all the time, it must be so weird for her to be around less than she used to be. She’d decided to take what her parents called a gap year between high school and college, the way they’d done when they were younger, fighting the good fight against the Vietnam War at whatever protests they could find their way to.

And so Steve had been gearing up to have Robin by his side all summer and into the autumn, just like they’d been since Starcourt, but now she’s got a girlfriend.

“Y’know Jeff got a girlfriend, too,” Eddie says. “It’s been weird, he’s missed, like, the last two Hellfire campaigns and he’s always late to band practice. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for him or whatever, but man… it kinda sucks not seeing him as much.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I get it… I’m not, like, bitter or mad at Robin or anything. Y’know? I’m happy for her. Really. She’s liked Vickie a long time.”

Eddie shrugs. “Just sucks not seeing her as much,” he finishes for Steve.

“Yeah.”

Eddie lights the joint, takes a big hit into his lungs, passes it across to Steve. “Maybe you should invite me over then.”

Steve scoffs, takes a long pull from the joint and a deep swallow of his beer, his cheeks pink.

“Maybe I will this time,” he says on the exhale. He passes the joint back, and they let their fingers linger against each other for just a moment too long.

Eddie’s heart is racing. This might be it. He tries to not sound too hopeful, tries to make it a little teasing when he says, “Yeah? You gonna take me home with you?”

Steve’s eyes are locked with his own, and the anticipation is building, the words are right there, but Steve’s eyes flick to a point over Eddie’s shoulder and he squints. His posture changes, hackles up, and it makes something like fear creep up Eddie’s spine.

“What the fuck is that?”

The spell Eddie’d found himself in is broken as quickly as it started as he watches Steve scramble down off the rock and head over to where he saw… whatever it is that he saw. Eddie’s racing after him before he can stop himself. He lands bad on his ankle and has to hobble a little bit to keep up with Steve’s purposeful trek across the woods.

“Steve!” he’s calling after him. “Steve, what? What did you see?”

“Nothin’ fucking good,” Steve mumbles when Eddie finally catches up to him. “Do you have a walkie? I left mine in the car. Dustin’s gonna kill me if this is what I think it is.”

Steve stops short, beneath a big, old oak tree that’s rotting from the roots. And there, right at the base of the tree, growing out of the trunk, is the ugliest fucking flower Eddie has ever seen. It’s not even properly a flower, doesn’t look like it’s bloomed yet, but the bud is enormous, easily as long as Steve’s forearm and twice as thick at its widest point in the middle.

Eddie’s seen Will’s drawings of what the kids have called demogorgons and demodogs. The bud of this flower… it looks like that. It looks like it could open up at any moment with petals full of teeth and slimy spit to take a bite out of one of them.

Eddie loses the internal battle with his impulse control and reaches toward it, not sure if he's going to just touch it or rip it out by the roots altogether, but certain he doesn’t have control over himself either way, and Steve smacks his hand away as the petals begin to open. He gets in between Eddie and the flower. It unfurls into a deep, bloody red, two yellow stamen in the center poking out, and it seems to creak, the sound of an old abandoned house settling in the night.

The dread makes Eddie’s skin crawl with goosebumps. They’re too close to it. They need Dustin’s walkie. They’ve gotten too careless. The kids warned them that something could happen at any time, and they’ve gotten too comfortable thinking they’d be done with the Upside Down and the demo-everythings and the horror.

But now here’s this flower, very obviously from the hell dimension Eddie almost didn’t make it out of the first time, blooming deep red to remind them that they’ll never really be free. And its stamen is pointed right at Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s frozen on the spot, just staring at the fucking thing and shaking in his fucking sneakers. Steve’s got an arm out between the flower and Eddie, his stance defensive, and the flower --

Coughs on him. There’s no other way to describe it. It coughs and it spits spores in Eddie’s face and Eddie gasps when it happens and the moment is over in less than a second but it sinks into them both, the reality of it, and Steve takes Eddie firmly by the hand to drag him away from the flower.

The effect is crazy fucking fast. Whatever’s in those spores goes straight to Eddie’s head and makes him dizzy. That’s how it fucking starts. He shakes his head and tries to focus but his throat is getting a little tight and suddenly he’s sweating like a whore in church. His vision is a little bit fuzzy and distantly, he thinks Steve might be saying something to him.

“Huh?” he asks, taking just a second to lean against the nearest tall, hard surface to catch his breath.

“I asked if you’re okay,” Steve says, and he sounds a little muted, almost like they’re underwater. It makes Eddie laugh, for some reason.

When Eddie looks at him, Steve comes into sharp focus, and the woods around them melt away. Eddie wants to kiss him.

“‘M great, big guy. How are you?”

“Eddie. You’re soaked with sweat, dude, are you gonna be alright?”

“Pssh!” Eddie says, waving a hand at him. How many beers had he had before they ran off? Not nearly enough to be drunk.

Oh, man, maybe the pot was a bad batch.

“No, Eddie, it’s not the pot. It was the fucking flower that spit spores all over you.”

Did he say all that out loud?

“Yes. Fuck, we gotta get you outta here. Come on.”

Steve touches him again, and Eddie’s skin sings. It’s like an electric shock, everywhere they touch lighting up like tiny little firecrackers, and it makes Eddie laugh again. Steve is pulling him forward, to the edge of the wood where they’d parked their cars, and Eddie feels himself stumbling, his steps off kilter.

He can’t focus on anything that isn’t Steve, can’t see past him or around him or through him and his lips are itching with the need to press against him.

“Stevie, wait,” Eddie says, and Steve turns toward him. “We both feel this, right?”

“No, Eds, the spores only got you.”

“Not that, I…” He hesitates, his head swimming, that hunger for Steve clawing its way to the front of his consciousness until it’s all he can think about. He’s hard in his jeans thinking about before, when they were teasing each other on top of skull rock, flirting with the idea of going home together later. He adjusts himself in his jeans, hissing at the friction of his hand against himself. “This. We both feel that, don’t we?”

For a second, Steve looks like he’s in pain. “Yeah, but… I don’t think… maybe drugged up by an Upside Down flower isn’t the best time to talk about it.”

Fuck talking about it. Eddie doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to show Steve. He palms himself again, distantly hears himself moan as he presses his hips against his hand.

“Oh, fuck, what did that thing do to you?”

“It’s not that, it’s you. I’m so fuckin’ hot for you I can’t stand myself. Been wantin’ to go all the way for weeks now but we never do. I need you, Stevie.”

“That’s… I think that’s the spores talking, Eds.”

Something bubbles up in Eddie, something like anger, something like frustration. “It’s not. Didn’t you hear me, I’ve wanted this for weeks.”

The feeling ebbs and flows. He’s light headed. He’s dizzy. All the blood in his body is rushing to his cock. He’s throbbing in his fucking jeans, leaking, the front of his boxers wet with precome. He palms himself again, little whines escaping him very much without his permission.

Steve tries to tug him along, but yanks his hand back as soon as it makes contact with Eddie’s skin. Like he’s been burned.

Eddie’s feeling faint again, wobbly. He’s stumbling along and tripping over branches and vines and it’s like he’s back there, back in the Hawkins beneath Hawkins that Supergirl and Hop and Will swore was closed to them for good and the fear grips him again.

“Eddie!” Steve is saying, clapping his hands in front of Eddie’s face and whoa - Eddie’s on his back. He doesn’t know how he got there. He isn’t even sure he can get up at this point because everything is spinning.

Above him Steve looks like a Greek god or an angel, the sun behind him peeking through the canopy to give him a golden halo.

“I’m flattered. Can you get up?”

Eddie doesn’t know. Everything around him is bathed in color. It’s all swimming and shifting, and Steve’s face is glowing. Almost sparkling. Vaguely, Eddie thinks of the time he tried mushrooms with Grant and they laid out in Grant’s backyard to watch the shifting clouds. They’d been out there for so long the clouds gave way to stars and he and Grant had laughed and laughed and laughed at the shapes they’d made above them.

This is kinda like that.

Except mushrooms with Grant hadn’t had Eddie’s cock hard as stone and straining the zipper of his jeans.

He lets Steve help him to his feet and his skin buzzes everywhere they touch. He tumbles into Steve, off balance, and Steve catches him in those big, strong arms of his. They’re pressed against each other like this and, humiliatingly, Eddie can’t stop himself from dragging his cock up the hard line of Steve’s thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears himself moan, and Steve’s hands tighten in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt where he’s holding him up.

“We have to get you out of here,” Steve says, and Eddie thinks he’s mostly saying it to himself at this point because Eddie’s ears are full of cotton. He can hear Steve and he can understand him, but just barely. His head’s never been this foggy before, not even with the smelliest, stickiest pot Rick’s got to offer.

Everything goes fuzzy as Steve drags him through the underbrush toward the car.

He runs into the passenger side door of the car at top speed, the door panel bringing him to an abrupt stop as… something crashes over him.

“Oh, ohhhh fuck,” he hears himself whine. His eyes roll back, the orgasm ripping through him with the force of a fucking freight train, and his knees begin to tremble.

Eddie slides into the car and for a brief, miraculous moment, his head is clear enough to form actual coherent thoughts. He just came, un-fucking-touched, when he slammed full force into the car.

“Shit. Shit shit shit,” he’s muttering, the front of his jeans damp and uncomfortable. Steve’s getting in the driver’s seat, looking at him a little funny, and Eddie’s face is hot with his shame at what just happened.

His cock is still hard though, still tenting his fly, obvious and unignorable. “You alright?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay for now.. Get me… somewhere, before I cum again.”

“Again?” Steve asks, his eyes wide as he stares at Eddie’s erection.

“Yes, Steve, again. Please just… not the trailer. Can we please go to your place? I need a shower. I need…”

I need to get fucked, is what he doesn’t say, but it hangs there anyway, like a living thing between them, because it’s beginning to dawn on them both now, the reality of the situation. That flower spat some really powerful aphrodisiac on Eddie, in his face, right up his nasal cavity where it’s taken root firmly in his brain matter.

“We need to get Hopper on the line,” Steve mutters. “Maybe Owens, too.”

“We are not calling Hopper. Or Owens, or anybody until this is over. Or until it looks like I might actually cum myself to death.”

“So how do we handle it?”

Things are getting hazy again, all of Eddie’s blood rushing back down to his groin to pool there and make him even harder than he already was. He presses his hand there, unable to stop himself, his head thrown back against the headrest as he thrusts and rocks his hips up into the friction, and just as he begins to realize what he’s doing - fucking jerking off right here in Steve’s car - it hits him again, the warm splash of his release in the confines of his boxers to mix with his previous orgasm. He shakes with it, his voice coming out in these strange little whimpers with each spurt.

“Oh, Jesus.” Steve’s voice sounds choked, strangled, distracted, and Eddie lets his head loll to the side to look at him. Steve is very clearly trying not to look, trying to keep his eyes on the road where they’re supposed to be, but he takes the turn into Loch Nora a little too hard and it knocks Eddie into the door again, the window knob digging into his knee, but fuck, at least he doesn’t cum all over himself again.

There’s sweat pooling in the divots of Eddie’s collarbones, the back of his neck. His hairline is damp with it and he feels like he can’t draw a complete breath with the heat and humidity in the car.

“Can you turn on the air, man, I’m fuckin’ dyin’ here.”

“Air’s up, Eds. Windows are down, it’s like in the fifties out there.”

“Fuck, man, I’m a mess,” Eddie hears himself chuckle. There’s no humor in it. This might well be it for him. He might actually be doomed to nut himself to death, right here in Steve Harrington’s car.

But then they’re pulling into Steve’s drive and Eddie is tumbling out of the car onto the concrete beneath, hauling himself to stand, a little wobbly on his shaking knees, as he makes the trek to the front door. He’s still gotta wait for Steve, though, and he stands there at the locked door, leaning against it as Steve fumbles the keys in his hand to get it unlocked to usher Eddie inside.

When the door closes behind them it’s like a dam breaks. Eddie presses Steve to the doorframe and kisses him, hungry and desperate, like he can’t stop himself from getting Steve's skin on his own.

“Fuck,” he murmurs into Steve’s mouth, uncertain he’s even forming words. “Fuck, Stevie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this but I need you. I need this now. I think I might actually die if I don’t have you… that flower, Stevie, it did something to me.”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice is firm, certain, decisive, and it makes Eddie tremble. “Okay, what do you need?”

“You,” he says again. He’s not sure how else to convey the severity of just how badly he needs this, of the urgency curling in his gut at the idea that he might not be able to have everything the way he needs it. “Touch me.”

Steve touches him. Steve’s hand presses against his straining fly and Eddie erupts, his head damn near exploding with the force of it. He ruts against Steve’s hand as he paints the inside of his pants with a third orgasm. There’s no way he should even have anymore in there. There’s no way it’s safe for one person to produce this much spunk in such a short amount of time but as he’s coming down Eddie comes to a realization:

In the scant few moments of clarity between an orgasm and the next wave of arousal, he is able to think. He’s drained, getting more and more exhausted with each release, but he thinks he knows what the solution here is.

“We need to fuck,” he says, impressed with the evenness of his own voice around the druggy haze of whatever the flower’s done to him. “I can’t put my finger on how I know that but it’s like… I get really horny, I can’t think, I cum, and then for like two minutes I’m fine. You need to fuck me until it’s over.”

“This is going to actually kill you, Eddie. We really should call Owens.”

“Absolutely not. Let’s just try it.”

“That’s the spores talking.”

“Maybe! But, like… what else could it be? That thing spit some sort of… sex spore on me!”

“And what if it… I dunno, transfers to me or something?”

“Then we fuck until we die, baby!” Eddie’s voice comes out sounding a little hysterical, even to his own ears but he’s frantic. His fingers are tingling.

“You don’t want it like this, you already said!”

“No, but I may never get it at all if I die like this! And then how bad would you feel, huh? Sorry Wayne, Eddie died because I wouldn’t fuck him stupid when a demon flower got him all hot and bothered. Tough loss, after everything.”

Steve switches their positions, shoves Eddie back against the door and it knocks something loose in him again, any thoughts or words he’d hoped to convey just - whoosh - out the window with everything aside from his libido. He spreads his thighs and takes Steve by the belt loops to pull him into him. He’s dragging his cock over the front of Steve’s jeans, feels an answering hardness there despite Steve’s protests.

Steve, finally, is using those quick hands of his to get Eddie’s belt unbuckled, his jeans unzipped and down to pool on the floor at his feet.

“You’re a fucking mess,” he says, and Eddie whines. He doesn’t touch Eddie’s dick just yet, his fingers dipping into the sticky, cooling spend caked in his pubic hair and bringing it up into both their lines of sight. He presses his forefinger and thumb together and spreads them, a string of cum spreading between the two, and then he wipes it on Eddie’s cheek.

“Filthy,” he says, but his voice is so gentle, so affectionate that it very nearly hurts.

Eddie cums again, his cock twitching as he spills onto the floor at their feet. The sheer volume of it should be concerning - it is a little bit - but it takes a backseat to the way Steve is looking at him, hunger in his eyes now as he begins to realize, maybe, that this could be fun.

“You’re really okay with this?” Steve asks. “Us? Like this?”

“More than okay, Stevie. Been tryin’ to get you in bed for weeks.”

The white noise takes over his senses again and he pitches forward, curling in on himself because this time it hurts, his stomach twisting into knots and his cock straining and so hard he thinks it might actually fucking explode if he doesn’t get some fucking relief. His skin goes clammy and he’s having trouble staying planted on his feet, something in his head is splitting open and it’s all he can do to not pass out.

He’s clutching Steve’s forearm, the muscles there shifting and flexing beneath his grip, and it’s like the fog was so close to clearing he could almost taste it but now he’s having trouble stringing one thought into two let alone forming coherent words. He wails, can barely hear himself over the kssshhhhhh of television static in his brain, and Steve helps him out of his jeans and up the stairs.

He’s not sure how they even make it but before Eddie knows it he’s on his back atop Steve’s mattress, the sheets beneath him cool and smooth, a balm to his too-tight skin.

“Can you be good for me?” Steve asks him.

“I can be anything you need me to be,” Eddie tries to tell him, but what comes out is something closer to a long, drawn out whine of Steve’s name.

“Spread.”

Eddie does. He plants his feet on the mattress and spreads his legs as far as he can for Steve to see him, take him in, fucking pound him into the mattress already, Christ. The mattress dips as Steve crawls toward him on his knees, shedding his shirt along the way. His fucking jeans are still on but they’ll deal with those later. Right now Eddie is zeroed in on those fuckin’ paws of his, desperate to get those hands on his skin, on his cock, whole fucking fist in his ass if Steve would be so fucking kind.

Steve is up off the bed now, scrambling in the drawer beside it, rustling around in there like he’s searching for something and Eddie’s head is pounding, a headache that creeps around his eyes and into his spine and leaves him even more breathless than before. But then the bed dips again and Steve is there with a bottle of lube and a condom and he’s saying something, his words lost in the white noise between Eddie’s ears.

Steve gets a finger inside him, and everything goes utterly silent. The heat remains, the clawing arousal remains, the painful stiffness of Eddie’s neglected cock remains, but the white noise is gone. He can hear Steve now, his stream of consciousness telling Eddie exactly what he’s doing, asking him if he’s okay and Eddie feels himself nod. He's keening, whining, moaning as he fucks himself on that single finger inside him and he’s already craving more of it. He needs two fingers, needs to get his cock inside Steve’s perfect fucking mouth.

And that’s exactly what he gets. Maybe he said it out loud again, begging for more of Steve in his delirium, maybe Steve just knew, is able to read Eddie like the open book he tries so, so hard not to be. Either way, Steve’s mouth is hot and wet as it engulfs him, the stretch of two fingers shoving into his hole stinging in the most perfect way. Eddie arches, shoves himself down the back of Steve’s throat and the noise it elicits is filthy and beautiful, the feeling of his throat fluttering around the head of his cock with a gag bringing Eddie oh, so briefly back to himself to relish it, just a little, before the delirium pulls him back under.

He’s being so loud, never heard himself make these sounds before but Steve seems to be enjoying it. For just a second, as Eddie lifts his head from the pillow that smells of sleep and Steve and vanilla shampoo, Eddie can see Steve’s hand down the front of his jeans, the bulge of that cock he’s been dreaming of for weeks obvious and prominently erect.

“Fuck me,” Eddie hears himself say. “Please, pleaseplease Stevie.”

Instead, Steve bullies a third finger into his hole and takes his cock deep in his throat again. Something snaps, and Eddie cums, spilling down Steve’s throat and squeezing his fingers so hard he’s a little worried he might break them. The clarity that follows his orgasm is bright and heavy - the knowledge that Steve’s mouth and fingers have finally brought him off and he wasn’t even present enough to enjoy it… it stings a little, makes him just a little bit sad, but then Steve is shedding his jeans and his boxers and taking that big beautiful cock in his hand to stroke it.

“No condom,” Eddie says. “I think… I don’t think it would work. I think…”

I think I need you to cum inside me. He can’t say it, can’t force the words out, because his clarity is leaving him again and he shakes with a sob. It hurts - every time he gets off something in him fucking hurts so bad. There’s an understanding in him, something supernatural or magical or fucking something, that knows he needs to cum with Steve, at the same time, with one of them buried to the hilt inside the other, for this to end. And he needs it to happen now because there are knives in his body, cutting him up from the inside every time he cums without any real relief.

“I wanted this to be special,” Steve is saying, and Eddie can only just hear him past that old ringing in his ears.

He wants to respond, wants to reassure Steve that it’s okay, that this doesn’t count, really, that they can make it special next time, tomorrow morning maybe, after the spores have worn off and he can think coherent thoughts again. He can’t. He doesn’t know words anymore, thinks he might have forgotten the English language an hour ago, a day ago. How long has this been going on?

He sobs again, this time with the urgency to get Steve inside him. Please. Please. Please. He’s hot all over, burning up inside, his stomach tearing itself apart and his heart pounding so fucking hard it might actually burst through his ribs.

Eddie hauls himself over, flipping to his front to get his knees up under him, presents himself to Steve like that. Like this, like this, hard. He’s not sure the words make it out of him but god, Steve understands anyway. He shuffles closer, his hands palming the cheeks of Eddie’s ass and spreading them. He’s just looking at him, not saying anything, and Eddie’s skin is singing beneath his touch.

“Hard,” Eddie says into the pillow, his words muffled. He turns, says over his shoulder, “Fuck me hard.”

Distantly, Eddie hears the lube pop open again, feels the slippery wetness coat his hole, Steve’s fingers dipping into him just so before swiftly leaving him again, and then Steve is there - the blunt head of him pressing and stretching him and entering him. It should hurt. There should be a burn to go with the stretch but instead it’s nothing but sweet, sweet relief.

Steve bottoms out with a deep groan in the back of his throat. Something within Eddie clicks into place, and Steve sets up a punishing rhythm, his hips making these little smack smack smack noises each time he sinks home again. Eddie feels so full, the drag of Steve inside him forcing his voice out in broken little whines as he claws at the sheets under his hands. He presses back to meet each brutal thrust. He’s babbling again, unsure of what he’s saying, hears himself chanting and crying out as the heat in him builds and builds.

Steve’s hands are everywhere - they ghost over the jagged scars on his hip and ribs, grip his shoulders tightly to drag him back onto his cock with force. The long line of Steve’s chest drapes over Eddie’s back suddenly, Steve’s mouth so close to his ear that Eddie can hear now just how ragged and fucked out he is, and Steve’s hand finds its way to Eddie’s throbbing, pulsing cock.

Steve strokes him once, twice, before that hand leaves to travel even lower. He squeezes Eddie’s balls, tugging harshly at them, and Eddie lifts his head to rub his cheek against Steve’s. He turns as much as he can, seeking his mouth, seeking a kiss from him. Steve bites him, his teeth sinking into Eddie’s bottom lip before sucking it wholly into his mouth.

Eddie spills onto the sheets with a sharp cry, panic rising in him as he oh, so briefly comes to his senses enough to know this isn’t over, that he’s still hard, still needs more of this. He’s not even finished coming, each spurt landing heavily on the bed beneath him, and he takes Steve’s mouth in a kiss again.

The harsh rhythm of Steve’s hips hasn’t slowed.

That hand glides even further back now, frames the place where their bodies meet between two of his fingers to feel the way Steve is fucking him. Eddie’s senses have left him again, all narrowed down to the sensation of touch, and all he can feel is the wet of Steve’s mouth, open against his own, the thick cock impaling him and taking, taking, taking.

Steve’s voice is growing sharper, little “Ah, ah, ah”s falling from his lips the closer he gets to his own release, and he hisses out a ragged, “Fuck,” before pulling out to squeeze himself at the base of his cock. He breathes through it. Eddie doesn’t even have enough time to find his bearings before he’s being flipped to his back.

Above him is Steve. Holy fuck. He’s damp with sweat, his skin glistening a little in the golden sunset light streaming in through the slotted blinds of the window. He’s gazing down at Eddie like he’s the magical one.

“You’re beautiful like this.”

Eddie hears it, when Steve says it. He feels it in his pores. Believes it, when Steve says it.

And then there’s Steve, lowering himself to lie across Eddie’s body. He guides himself forward and sinks perfectly inside.

Everything is quiet. There’s no buzzing in Eddie’s head anymore, no ringing in his ears. There’s just this: Steve’s ragged breaths as he bottoms out again, Eddie’s audible gulp at the burn of being so full in this position, a bird outside - mourning dove, maybe, something that coos low and deep.

Steve wanted something special. This feels special.

Still the heat doesn’t subside. Steve whispers that Eddie is burning up inside, that it’s almost too much, and then he rocks slowly back before pressing forward again and Eddie feels his eyes roll back in his head. Steve guides Eddie’s legs around his waist and he hovers over him, their faces so, so close to each other that Eddie can smell the beer and the pot on Steve’s breath. Eddie kisses him, and Steve laces their fingers together, holds his hand through the first round of slow, torturous thrusts of his hips.

“More,” Eddie whispers. “Deeper. It’s working.”

“How do you know?” Steve whispers in return.

“I don’t know. I just do.”

It’s slow like that, soft and gentle in a way that Eddie never once thought sex could be, each slide home dragging little sobs from Eddie’s lips and into Steve’s waiting mouth. Eddie is overcome with it, with the simplicity of this, but after a while it’s not enough anymore and the knives in his gut are back.

“More, I need more.”

“You’re doing so well,” Steve breathes, the pace of his hips picking up speed as Eddie arches beneath him. “You feel so good. You’re so…” he moans, “oh, god, you’re so good for me.”

Eddie is coming back to himself, gradually, for real this time. He’s got the presence of mind to actively move with Steve, to rock with him, match his rhythm, bring him deeper with every thrust of his hips. Steve takes his lips in another kiss, and Eddie opens for him. It’s a real kiss, a proper one, like so many that they’ve shared before, and that’s what seems to break Steve. He holds Eddie’s face in his hands, pulling back to look at him.

“There you are,” he whispers, almost reverent. “There you are.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easy, Stevie.”

“Thank god.”

“C’mon, sweetheart, give it to me. I can take it.”

“Well I can’t,” Steve groans, laughing at himself a little. “You’re so fuckin’ hot inside, Eds. Gonna burn me up.”

But Steve sits up. He gets his knees under himself and under Eddie’s ass. Hooking his elbows under each of Eddie’s knees, he folds him in half. Eddie didn’t even know he could fuckin’ bend like that but the change in position does something, shifts something inside Eddie and he arches with it. His eyes roll back as his vision goes fuzzy, Steve driving into him with a kind of force he hadn’t expected.

The delirium washes over him again in waves. Colors swim in his vision. Steve begins to glow again, a little bit. There’s a wub wub wub in Eddie’s ears that drown out even the wet slap of their skin coming together as Steve fucks into him. Eddie’s not sure if the sounds coming out of him are euphoric giggles or fucked out whimpers but at this point either seems possible.

Vaguely, as if under water, he thinks he hears himself murmur, “I love you,” and Steve’s hips stutter a little with the declaration. Fuck. If that’s how Eddie goddamn tells Steve he loves him… Fuck. He reaches for Steve, drags him down and lets his body bend even further to kiss Steve again, will him to forget.

“More,” he pleads. “More. I love you. Fuck. Sorry.”

Against his mouth, Steve laughs. Eddie feels the shape of that laugh more than he hears it. What he does hear, though, is Steve’s response.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for months.”

“Stevie,” Eddie hears himself whine. “Close. Close, I’m close. This is gonna be it, oh god.”

The drive of Steve’s hips is wild. He’s frantic, urgent, chasing his own release. The delirium crashes into Eddie again, makes him cry out. It’s building and building to an absolute fever pitch now, very nearly fucked right out of him and when he blows this last time that’ll be it.

His cheeks are wet. Oh god, he’s fucking crying. Actually fucking sobbing as Steve fucks him hard and fast and relentless. Steve’s eyes are squeezed shut, focused on not coming too quick maybe, and thank fuck for that because there’s no way Steve wouldn’t stop if he knew Eddie was fucking crying with pleasure.

That final orgasm crashes into Eddie with the force of a meteorite. It’s a cataclysmic event. The kind of shit that could eradicate life. Maybe this is what killed the dinosaurs, Eddie thinks vaguely.

He shouts and tears at the sheets, hears them rip a little beneath his clawing fingers. There’s so much fucking cum. It’s boiling hot on his skin. He paints Steve’s chest with it somehow, and has just enough control over himself to drag his hand through it, scrape his fingernails through the mess of his chest hair and that’s what does it for Steve.

He drives deep, deeper than he has yet, his balls trapped, squeezed between their bodies. There’s a hot blooming sensation inside him as Steve fills him up with his release, and Eddie can feel Steve’s cock twitching inside him with each spurt.

“Fuck, oh fuck Eddie, holy shit.”

Slowly, Steve draws out of him, and Eddie winces. He feels empty. Empty, but satiated and relaxed. Beside him, Steve collapses onto his back.

Everything is so quiet in the aftermath. Eddie’s cock is finally going soft. He’s drifting in and out of consciousness, just a little nervous he might not wake up if he gives himself over to sleep. The poison is out. He knows it is. He’s coming down from it, the euphoria and delirium finally leaving him altogether.

He’s exhausted. His body fucking hurts.

But Steve is here. Steve is kissing him. Steve is murmuring love against his mouth, giving him praise, telling him he’s beautiful, telling him he’s good.

“Thought I was gonna lose you again. ‘M sorry.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Eddie says, breathless. “No apologies. You did…” he swallows, “you did exactly what I needed.”

“You were crying!”

“Good tears, I swear!”

Steve narrows his eyes at Eddie at that but doesn’t fight him, and Eddie feels a smile creeping across his face.

“God, it feels so good to be able to think straight again.”

“Nothin’ straight about the way you think.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “True enough. C’mere. Wanna cuddle you for a minute before I try and get up.”

“Eds, you need a shower.”

“Need you more. We can shower after.”

He pulls Steve into him. He tangles their legs together and pushes Steve’s sweaty hair back from his face and just looks at him. He wants to apologize for getting too close to that fucked up flower, for forcing a situation that Steve might not have been ready for just yet.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You didn’t want to… I just… like, I know you wanted to eventually, but… I’m sorry you had to, like… do this. Today. Because of this. Because I was stupid and tried to touch a fucking demon flower I had no reason to fuck with.”

Steve sighs. “It would have gotten one of us either way, I think. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, Eds. I’ve been… I’ve wanted to, for weeks now. Months, maybe. I just wanted to make sure we were both… that we were on the same page before we did.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve’s fingers trail lightly over Eddie’s brow, as if mapping his face, committing it to memory. “I needed to know you loved me.”

“Of course I do.”

“I just fall really hard and really fast. You know? I didn’t wanna be there before you, do this, and then find out afterwards that we… that whatever this is is just… physical to you. I can’t have another relationship that revolves around sex.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that,” Eddie sighs. “Well for what it’s worth, I’ve been struggling to not tell you how I feel for… Jesus, for months. Think I might’a fell for you that first time I saw you in the hospital, after everything was over.”

“Yeah?” Steve smiles. “Tell me about that.”

“Nah. Maybe another time. Let’s shower. This shit is starting to flake and I’m startin’ to get itchy.”

The shower is lukewarm. The shampoo is expensive, and smells of vanilla when Steve works it through Eddie’s hair. He groans at Steve’s fingers on his scalp, more relaxed than he’s been all day, maybe even in weeks. After washing his hair, Steve works out the tightness in Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie might fucking cry again.

“I didn’t expect to see you, in the hospital,” Eddie says quietly as Steve drags a washcloth over his skin. “Max had just woken up, too, and… I get it, I wasn’t upset about it at all. If I’d made it out the way everyone else did, I’d have been right there with you.”

Steve is quiet, the washcloth slowing its scrub across Eddie’s back as he listens.

“But there you were. You came in while they were changing my bandages and you… fuck, Steve, you looked like you hadn’t slept all week. You smiled. I think I was a goner right there.”

“You smiled first,” Steve tells him. “When you looked up and saw me. You smiled, even though the old bandages were sticking to you when they pulled them off. I never thought I’d see you smile again.”

“Were you a goner too Stevie?”

It’s meant to be teasing, but Steve says, “Yeah. Yeah, I was a fucking goner.”

“What took us so long, huh?”

“I don’t know. Glad we figured it out.”

When Eddie’s clean they switch positions, and Steve lets Eddie return the favor. He washes Steve’s hair and his body and he kisses him all over his face and neck, counting those perfect moles with his lips as he goes. The shower is nearly cold when they finally shut it off and step out onto the plush mat on the bathroom floor. Steve’s towels are soft.

It’s not until they get back to Steve’s bedroom that they realize what a mess they’ve made of the bed. Steve tosses a clean pair of underwear to Eddie from his own dresser and then they strip the sheets. It’s nice, doing this together. It’s soft and domestic and Eddie is entertaining the idea of someday. Someday they can maybe have this for real, the two of them and Robin and Vickie in a little place somewhere in the city.

Maybe he and Steve can have forever.

After the sheets are changed and the moon hangs heavy outside Steve’s bedroom window, they climb back into his bed and get back to kissing. There’s no rush here, no urgency, no need to take things any further than this.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve says later, startling Eddie just as he’s finally drifting off to sleep. “We forgot to call Owens.”

#steddie fic #bee's blurbs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie

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crabonfire · 9 days

Text

Scout falling for reader

characters: scout

tags: fluff

note: writing this on a whim and ignoring all the other drafts I really wanted to write! also hi :)

I was writing an enemies to lovers but um....maybe later

I have a love for scout okay :( I'm sorryyyyyyyyy ill do full characters right after this one (I'm in a writing mood for once in years)

and of course reblogs and comments very much appreciated <3

♡Scout♡

• You were really the only true friend he had in the base. He considered all the other mercs his friend too but, he knew they'd never really share that friendship. He felt appreciated, and had someone to talk to who would really listen to him, not finding him stupid like the others do.

• He didn't realize he fell for you. The last time he fell for someone he acted shy, aloof, awkward and honestly embarrassed himself a little. He never knew what to say. So it took him a while to figure out he liked you, because whenever you two spoke, words always came so easily to him.

• The day he truly does realize his feelings though, is a day like any other. Your team, victorious, going out for drinks at the local bar. Scout could never handle himself well to alcohol, and you didn't really seem to be a drinker either. You two were sitting outside for the most part, laughing and making fun of the other team, as well as you listened to him ramble on his accomplishments of the day.

• Though, something lingered on his mind. A question he really thought about for a while. He knew you wouldn't judge, so he asked you your opinion.

"How long do you think we're gonna have to do this for?"

• You turned to him, confused. He continues.

"Fighting. Like- how long do you think it'll take before it's over? I'm not sayin' I don't enjoy kicking the other teams ass or the money we get, but well- I don't know."

Anytime he asked this question, Spy, Demo, everyone in the team really, all just said "not to think about it and to do it until it's done." He was never satisfied with that answer.

He saw how you contemplated it for a moment, seeing a small smile curl onto your lips when you looked back at him to reply.

"I don't know. It's probably for a bit longer, I mean- it's been 2 years. Pretty sure there were mercs before us who fought for this stupid war.*

You paused, "Why? You wanna quit or something?"

He shook his head. "Quit being able to kill people for a bunch of money? No way! I just- I think of doing other stuff. We barely have any free time and I don't wanna do this stuff till I'm old or something. And I know old- just look at Spy. He's probably from the ice age or somethin'."

• You snorted, chuckling a little at his comment. He smiled, he always liked to see you laughing at his jokes, made him feel funnier than he really was. You mirrored his smile, turning to look at the road. The night was a bluish gray, a striking contrast to the liveliness and warmth the bar brought.

"I get it."

It went quiet, he wondered if that was it.

"I don't wanna grow old and retire from this job either. But I don't think it'll be so bad."

"Really? Why?" He asked.

• He saw the way you turned to look at him, that same smile he knew all too well, one side of your face shone so brightly under the bars lighting while the other side was slightly masked with moonlight. Your reply was so simple, but it made his heart race.

"You'll be there. And I guess having you around makes things less worse."

• He stared bashfully at you upon hearing those very words. His palms got sweatier than they usually did as he felt his chest tighten. You must've noticed, because you let out an embarrassed chuckle.

"Haha- that was corny as hell. Anyway, I'm gonna go get another pack of soda for us."

• You stood up and walked back to the bar, but he couldn't look away from where you sat before. His face felt warm, damn.

He didn't know what it was. Maybe it should've hit him sooner, the fact he had feelings for you. The fact that- whenever you pull him in for a hug, his heart beats a little bit faster. When you laugh with him he laughs just a little harder because your laugh is his favorite. That your playful fighting with each other, it really does mean a lot to him.

All he knew was from that day on, it became difficult to think of you without realizing everything it was he loved about you.

♡♡♡

I don't know how to write endings anyway scout fans here's your food I know it's been a while it's okay mama is here 🫂

and yesssss sigh don't worry there are other fics I'm writing 😪 just...wanted to do scout first as a practice :)

hope you enjoyed! reblogs and comments always appreciated, I'd love to know your own opinions of scout and such!!! #scoutlover

#tf2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #tf2 scout x reader #scout tf2 #team fortress 2 headcannons #team fortress 2 x reader #team fortress two #tf2 spy #putting spy in here cause LOL #fluff #friends to lovers #JKKKK theres no ending LOLLLL #lovers more like DOOMED YURIIII your honor scout is A GIRL!!!

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xxchumanixx · 26 days

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Hii, are gonna do a part 2 of “doomed” where they get together?

Doomed pt. 3

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, hurt, angst, unspoken feelings, Grey raging Word count: 2.197 Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! (I'm sorry it's so late!) Not a part 2, but a part 3 for you! Hope you'll like it anyways! Also, this isn't entirely proof read yet!

Enjoy!

Did he even breathe?

Looking at Tim through your peripheral, you knew he thought the same.

Grey was raging on, talking without breathing.

Soon he'd suffocate, you were sure of it. Luna would have a heart attack, when he would die because of you - because you were dumb enough to be caught by him.

It wasn't even your fault, really.

It was Tim's.

At least that's what you told yourself.

"And I will not be the one who will take the brunt when one of you dies, because you were too busy making love eyes to notice a threat!"

Maybe you should have just told him - at least that's what Grey thought to himself, as he yelled at one of his best officers and his rookie.

Who were sleeping with each other.

He mentally flinched, not wanting to think about it too deeply.

"You are responsible for her training!" he continued, pointing at Tim who had his hands at his sides, trying to just get past this.

He had never felt this uncomfortable in his life before - at least there wasn't much that compared to this situation.

"How do you think will others judge when they learn about your relationship? Do you think they will see her ratings fit? Or will they think you rated her better, because you-" he had to stop himself, or else it would have gotten out of hand - though you all knew, what he wanted to say.

Because you are sleeping with her.

Your career would be ruined, if the right people found out. No one would want you to work for them, never fully trusting you.

As the tears welled up in your eyes, you tried your best to suppress them.

Grey was right, and he had every right to be angry.

"This will have consequences!" he continued, finally taking a deep breath, as he tried to calm himself, for the sake of his heart.

His wife would have killed him, if he dared to have a heart attack - especially when she was currently trying to convince him to retire.

Maybe he should have.

"You will be replaced as her TO - that's the least I will have to do. Other than that, this conversation will never, and I mean never, leave this room. If anyone asks why you were replaced as her TO, you tell them that you don't know."

His eyes wandered from Tim to you, his head shaking in disappointment.

Never would he let you forget this day.

"I can't believe that this happened right under my nose and I didn't notice it." he spoke a little quieter, before his voice rose again. "And I would have never expected such behavior from you, of all people, Bradford!"

Tim swallowed, gaze fixed on the table in front of him. He didn't know what to say, guilt making his tongue heavy as lead.

Grey grumbled to himself, sitting down in his chair. He sighed in exhaustion, wiping over his face with his hand.

"I know I'll regret it later." he began, putting his head in his hand with his elbow on the armrest, as he looked up at you.

You two stood straight as sticks, and for a moment Grey had to smirk inwardly.

"Are you in a relationship or do you plan to be in one?" The same moment he voiced his question, he regretted it. His daughter would have probably told him how embarrassing he was.

Did he want to do the talk now, too?

Your eyes widened, looking at Tim in shock. His gaze was fixed somewhere behind Grey, jaw clenched.

It had been a few months now, since you regularly started to sleep with each other. You couldn't deny that you had become attached, having gathered feelings for him.

But did he feel the same?

Biting your cheek, you looked away.

Of course he wouldn't.

"Okay..." Grey mumbled, scratching his chin, as he leaned back in his chair. "I will still tell you what will await you anyway, in case you decide to be in a relationship somewhere in the future."

He shook himself inwardly, one eye twitching, as he tried to stay as professional as possible.

"I hardly advise you to work separate. Like I said, if one of you dies because you aren't focused on the task at hand, the other will pay the consequences. The LAPD doesn't like it, when two of their officers are in a relationship and in the same unit. It's a risk the intern doesn't want to take."

You simply nodded, swallowing against the lump in your throat.

What other choice did you have anyway?

Grey nodded to himself, not happy his evening had been ruined. Luna would be furious if she knew how close he had been to having a heart attack.

"And now go home. Your shift is over, anyways."

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, you nodded, heading out of the office. You had been lucky the blinds had been closed, otherwise the whole LAPD would have witnessed that conversation.

You didn't look at Tim, as you made your way to the locker room, biting back the emotions trying to take over.

The Mexican food you wanted to order at his place, would be cancelled now, your whole evening ruined.

You really should have looked better if anyone was near, before you talked about private things.

Seriously, how could you miss Grey?

He had seen how close you seemed, after parking the shop, Tim's hand almost brushing yours as he leaned closer to talk into your ear.

This one gesture had spoken more than a thousand words to him.

And it was exactly the reason, why Tim avoided to talk about his private life.

Or show it, for that matter.

But he had a moment of weakness, your flirtatious behavior over the day constantly turning him on.

He really should have known better.

His eyes scanned the parking lot for you, trying to make you out in the dark. He spotted your car, seeing that you weren't there yet, as he made his way over to it.

He decided to wait, fingers drumming on the strap of his backpack, as you left the station.

Fumbling for your keys, you didn't notice him at first, only when you almost stood in front of him.

Blinking a few times in confusion, your cheeks heated up. "What do you want?" you asked, inhaling shakily. "We should talk." he gave back, shifting his weight.

Brows furrowed, you looked at him. "If you want to end things, then just say it, Tim." you told him, trying to act nonchalant about it, even if your heart broke at the possibility of him ending whatever it was you two had.

"Wh- No!" he responded a little too fast, taking a step forward with his mouth agape. "I mean- If you want to end this, then I'll stay away from you."

Eyes widening, you felt how they burned from tears again. Of course you didn't want to end this.

Shaking your head, you told him exactly that.

"I don't want to end this." you spoke, taking a step forward as well, all the while feeling Grey's gaze burning holes in your back, even if he wasn't even near.

"But I don't think we should continue on like this. Grey is right, what we're doing is risky." you continued, sighing heavily. "We're jeopardizing our careers, risking to lose our jobs. Or at least risking our credibility and the trust they have in us. I think it's better, that he replaces you as my TO."

Your words struck something deep inside him, making him swallow. On one side he thought you were right - if he continued being your TO, though not able to keep his hands from you, your career would have been over, before it even started.

On the other hand, he feared that he'd lose you.

"If you want to keep this up, what do you mean we shouldn't continue on like this?" he wanted to know, the crease between his brows deepening.

"Are you breaking up?"

The words had left his lips, before he had a chance to properly think about it. His cheeks burned up, and he was thankful that you weren't able to see it in the dim light of the parking lot.

Your mouth opened, but you weren't able to utter a single word, only staring at him. Chuckling uneasily, you shook your head.

"Breaking up postulates there's something to break up." you told him, voice small. You didn't want him to see the heartbreak in your eyes, so you averted them.

"We're not together - there is nothing to break up."

He swallowed heavily, his throat suddenly way too dry. His heart seemed to be in an iron grip, pumping ice crystals through his veins.

He hated the way you said it, the way you sounded so broken.

"Grey is right." he muttered bitterly, nodding to himself, as he took a step backwards. Your eyes snapped back to his, following his movement.

"We shouldn't do this. The LAPD doesn't approve of it and we only risk our jobs. You're right, we shouldn't continue this."

He turned around and started to walk away, your heart breaking as he did. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt as if you couldn't breathe.

"Tim!" you called out, voice shaking, as you practically jumped after him, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking further away from you.

He stiffened, but didn't turn around. He only stopped, with your hand still on his arm. Inhaling shakily, you braced yourself for your next words.

"I don't want to break up." you softly spoke, one of the tears managing to free itself. Biting your lip, you shook your head. "I don't want to let you go - I can't."

He slowly turned around to you, giving you the chance to take your words back.

But you didn't.

Staring straight back at him, you stood your ground. That you were still at the almost empty parking lot, wasn't important anymore.

Neither were the people that could walk out of the station at any moment.

"If I have to do more tests, have another TO, then so be it. But I don't want to lose you, Tim."

More tears rolled down your cheeks, betraying your aching heart. Your emotions were on display for him to see, and you weren't planning on backing down.

He took a shaky breath, mouth slightly open. He didn't know what to say - hell, he wasn't even sure what you were trying to say. Had you fallen for him? As much as he had fallen for you?

"Hate me, abandon me, whatever you want." you told him, wet lips pressing together, head shaking. "But I can't act like I don't have feelings for you, any longer. Yes, it can cost us our jobs, or just mine, since you're one of the best officers here, but I'm willing to take that risk. Let Grey be angry, shout at us or transfer me when im a p2 - I don't care."

He was speechless, a rare sight.

Swallowing, he took a step closer. "What are you trying to say?" He had to know, had to hear it one more time, in case he had misunderstood you.

"I'm saying that I have feelings for you, that I have fallen in love with you, Tim." you brought over your shaking lips, heart racing as you were nervous how he would respond to your confession.

He huffed, amusement and relief hugging him like a warm blanket. Honestly, he hadn't known how he'd reacted, if you'd pushed him away for real.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you into his embrace, as he exhaled slowly. Hugging him back, your cheek rested on his chest, hearing his heart race.

"I have feelings for you, too." he confessed, smiling into your hair. "Fuck the LAPD and their opinion. I have the sergeant exam in my pocket, if they want to punish us, I'll find another station, maybe I'll even go to the metro."

You couldn't help but laugh quietly at him, knowing he'd do it.

"Go out with me." he spoke, looking down at you, after you separated, his hands on your upper arms.

Smiling, you sniffed, face still tear stained. "I'd love to." you agreed, nodding to underline your words. He smiled back, before his hand wrapped around your shoulder, walking you towards your car.

"Are we still getting Mexican tonight?" he asked, a smirk playing at his lips. Rolling your eyes, you nodded with a grin.

"I'll get us a table." he told you, sending you a wink, as you gaped at him, stopping at your car. "I know the owner."

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but smile. "Okay." He nodded, smiling right back.

As Tim told you he'd pick you up in an hour, Grey smiled to himself.

He'd been watching your interaction through a window, secretly happy about your smiling faces, as his wife caught him stalking you two, hitting his arm in warning.

"Wade!"

<- Part two

Tag List

@laheysfilm

@newobsessionweekly

#the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie x u #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #imagine

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coltermorning · 9 months

Text

The Outlaw’s Way (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You catch a notorious outlaw in the act of robbing the general store late one night. To keep you quiet, he punishes you for it.

Author’s Notes: Look at me finally learning how to write something shorter than ten thousand words :)

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, low honor Arthur Morgan, rough sex, semi-public sex

AO3 Link

The Outlaw’s Way

Word count: 2323

“Easy, girl.”

The irony of the way Arthur Morgan purred those words was laughable. But you were far from laughing.

His hand was clamped around your throat, holding you against the wall. You would be terrified, should have been, if you weren’t so busy being aroused by his lowly, rough handling. Far from any kind of easy, no matter how much he said otherwise.

“Open your mouth.”

You did as he said, and his thumb found the edge of your lip, running across it. You watched his eyes, the only thing you could see of his face behind that black bandana. They studied your mouth like it was a complicated score, another job to run and get away with.

He stuck his thumb in your mouth, making you close your lips around it out of instinct. You saw the slightest narrowing of his eyes—a satisfied smile behind that mask.

“So good for me,” he said lowly. “You gonna keep quiet? Or do I have to keep this pretty mouth filled?”

You couldn’t answer, too busy with his finger, too worried by his hand around your throat. He was making shallow movements in and out, just enough for you to move your tongue against him.

He took his thumb away, closing in on you. “Answer me.”

You felt his thigh press against your legs, separating them until his knee hit the wall at your back.

You held in a moan when the friction of his leg scraped against your arousal. “I…”

His free hand found your backside, pitched you forward until you were fully straddling his leg. All the while, those deep, piercing eyes never left yours.

“Use your words.” He tightened his grip on your throat instead of loosening it.

“I won’t tell,” you breathed.

“Won’t you?”

Never. Not if this was what it got you. He had been robbing the general store at your back when you found him, catching him in the act. The store owner was long since retired for the night, leaving you the sole witness to the crime. And not only was it an actionable offense, but he was also one of the more famous outlaws in the state. His bounty posters were all over town. Arthur Morgan, head enforcer to the Van der Linde Gang. His picture didn’t do him justice. But it wasn’t his masculine features that were attracting your attention.

He kept your head pinned back, leaning in even closer. “What if you’re lying? Then what’ll I do with you?”

He gripped your hip hard, hard enough to bruise, and started guiding you back and forth on his leg. You let out a breathy moan.

“I won’t tell,” you repeated, the words mewled.

“I don’t trust that for a second. Maybe I’ll fill you up, give you a reminder any time you think of going to the law about what you saw.”

You moaned. You wanted that so badly you were willing to sacrifice any moral you’d ever had.

“Yeah, you’d like that would you?”

You couldn’t hold his intense gaze. Your eyes fluttered shut, all thought on moving against his muscled thigh, the heat building within you.

He finally let go of your throat. You stopped grinding against him when you heard him undoing his gun belt, looking down to watch.

“Uh uh. You keep moving until I tell you to stop.”

You obeyed but watched all the same. He unbuckled the belt, and it fell to the ground with a heavy thunk, his weapons sprawling in the dirt. You ground against his thigh a little harder when his hands worked his pants buttons apart. Were you really about to do this? Let an outlaw ravage you in the wide open? When he pulled himself out, stroking his cock as he clamped his hand around your throat once more, you had your answer.

“You want me to fill that little cunt, darlin’?”

Lord above, what a crude way to speak to a woman. But you were aroused even more by it.

You hesitated, overwhelmed by the feeling his leg was giving you and the sight of his hand around his impressive length.

His grip tightened around your throat. “Answer me, sweetheart. I don’t like asking twice.”

“Yes, I do,” you breathed.

His lazy laughter rent the night. It drew your attention. You suddenly wanted to see his face, wanted to know if he was as handsome under that mask as the rest of him was.

Before you could go to remove it, he released your throat and stooped, gathering up your skirts. His hand slipped under them, and he had your undergarments pulled down before you could so much as blink. One of his fingers ran against your slick, and your eyes fluttered shut as you released a breath, leaning into the feeling.

He gave a satisfied hum. “All ready for me, ain’tcha? Naughty little thing, wanting me to take you so bad.”

You didn’t respond. Couldn’t. It didn’t matter anyway—he was too impatient to wait for an answer. He hitched the front of your skirts up and boxed you in against the wall, his hips lining up with yours. You felt his cock slide against the inside of your thigh.

“Tell me again why I’m having to do this to you.”

It took all your will to focus. To think. Especially as those eyes bored into yours. “Because I need to be reminded to…to keep quiet.”

You expected a quip in return, but instead he rammed his length into you in one harsh stroke. The beginning of a cry of pleasure spilled from your lips before he slapped his hand over your mouth, muffling it.

“Quiet, girl. Don’t want no one knowing what we’re doing out here.”

He retreated, the pull of his cock against your walls sinfully good. Even better was when he slammed back in, greedy and rough.

He laughed in that smug way again when you moaned into his hand. “There.” The way he drug that word out had you dripping with want.

He started to take you against the wall, your lower back pressing into the wood harshly with each thrust. His hand moved slowly down your face until it found your throat again, forcing your chin back with his need. He began to fuck you hard and fast, the sound of him slamming into you filling the night.

He gave a low grunt at a particularly hard thrust. So did you, but you used the distraction and took his mask between your fingers, pulling it up just enough to see the rest of his face. God above, was he handsome. Your heavy-lidded eyes flicked up to see him staring you down. Hungry.

He brought his hand away from your throat and pressed it against your clit as he continued to fuck you deep. You lost it.

“Please,” you moaned as you gripped his arms, needing relief and needing to get out from under that finger all at once. He had trapped you against the wall. You had nowhere to go, nothing to do but take it.

“No use begging,” he grumbled. “You won’t get no mercy from me.”

You threw your head back, trying your best to stifle your moans. Those cursed words. Why did you covet them so?

His thumb started a wild pace against you, and your orgasm came roaring awake like you had never known true pleasure before. Your moans changed pitch, shooting as high as your need did.

“Want to feel that little cunt go tight,” he growled. It was the last straw. Your body obeyed him like it spoke his language.

You let go of all your restraint and pride, letting this man have every piece of you. Your orgasm hit you like a wall, and you were holding onto the edges of a scream as he continued his abuse of you. What pitiful noises you did manage caught the outlaw’s attention. Your upper back hit the wall hard as he changed his angle. And it was worse, so much worse—he wouldn’t let your pleasure down.

“Please,” you begged, desperate this time. You moved any way you could to get away from his abuse, but he only laughed. Went deeper. Ravaged you with his finger even faster.

“Take it,” he demanded, and there was no part of you that wanted to disobey him. Even though your body was protesting, even though it had never taken such treatment, you relented.

“I-” You gasped a breath. Another orgasm rolled through you like fire, this one so intense your legs started shaking.

“There,” he said low. You could hear the smugness in the word.

You were so high you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe for a moment. His finger finally drew away, but still he pushed into you.

His hands came around your backside and lifted you, making you straddle his waist when he pushed you back against the wall. You were chest to chest now, and he used all his strength to thrust upward. Hard. You let out such a loud whine that he shushed you.

“What’d I say?”

“To be- oh god. To be quiet.”

“I need to make myself more clear?”

“No,” you breathed, your head falling back and plunking against the wood.

“Good girl.” His voice had a new edge to it—a desperate one. He was close to his own release.

Your breathing mingled with his, and he went impossibly harder, your body never knowing such pleasure.

He let out a panting breath then said, voice faltering, “Gonna fill you up.”

You moaned again, trying your best to keep it quiet.

“You want that?” he taunted. “Want my spend dripping out of you?” You shut your eyes tight, those words stirring your desire again. He was relentless. And got off on those dirty words of his almost as much as you did.

“Yes.” It was a breath of a word. An idiotic word. But you couldn’t resist it.

He chuckled, the rumble of it through his chest so masculine and proud. “Knew you would.” And like he had been holding back before, he gripped your hips and dug into you, his cock pushing so deep you were crying out again. He didn’t seem to care this time, buried under his desire.

His grip became so tight on your skin you writhed to get away. He was pulling another orgasm from you against your will, hitting that sweet spot within you over and over again.

When it surmounted, when you fell apart and he began to, you let his name slip past your lips. He groaned at the sound. You came hard, and he slammed into you one last time, doing the very same. Spilling inside of you, just like he said. It made your high inexplicably better. You basked in it, knowing nothing but the feeling of pleasure for a few blissful moments. Then he was pulling out of you, letting your legs down. You wanted to whine at the loss, wanted him to do it all over again. You couldn’t think that for long as you realized, with burning shame, you were having a hard time standing. Your legs shook beneath you, barely holding you up.

The outlaw laughed lowly, dangerously, when he saw. “I make your knees go all weak darlin’?” You met his eye, and he closed in on you. For a heartbeat you thought he would try to kiss you through his mask, but you realized too late his hands were dropping low. He brushed his fingers along the inside of your thigh, to his spend that had indeed dripped down your legs. If your knees hadn’t already been shivering, they would have started to at the touch. Especially as he held your gaze, gathering up his spend and tucking it back into your soaked core. His fingers dragged against you, filled you with his come, served their purpose. Your knees gave.

He caught you, laughing lowly as he did, and his cursed fingers finally let you be. “You remember that the next time you think of going to the law,” he said in your ear.

You didn’t respond. Numb with pleasure.

He went on. “If I find out you did, I’ll come do it again. And another time after that, just to be sure it takes.” You squeezed your legs together at the very idea of him doing this again.

“And if I dont?” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“Then I’ll do it anyway.” You let a groan escape you, and he laughed as he settled you on your legs a little better, stepping back and tucking himself back in his pants. “Look at you, all used up.”

“Stop speaking like that,” you begged.

He just chuckled, low and deep, as he went to refasten his gun belt. “I’ll stop when you learn your lesson about snooping around on a man.”

You wanted to say it had been an accident, that you hadn’t intended to see him robbing the store blind. But you were also much too receptive to any lesson he was willing to give you to say otherwise.

When he was all put back together, his hands falling on his gun belt in an unfairly attractive way, he stepped forward. He towered over you as that gaze of his pierced your very soul. “Be here when I get back. And keep that pretty mouth shut. Understood?”

You nodded, hoping—entirely irrationally—that he would return sometime soon.

“Use your words,” he taunted, his eyes crinkling in that hidden smile.

“I understand. I’ll be good.”

He snickered as he turned, whistling for his horse. He took one last look at you, a sudden hardness overtaking his gaze. “You better be.” Your knees gave another involuntary shiver. And just like that, he made for his horse and mounted, riding away. No more than a phantom sent to torture you and gone just as soon.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #low honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

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