#got me fuckin BARKING SIR!!!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Queue me sprinting to the inbox when I got the notice that your inbox was open! First off, congrats on 5k! Ok now business: can I request something along the lines of Ghost realizing he’s become attached his partner (maybe the reader is the same rank or a sniper or something where they’ve known each other a while) but it’s a situation where it’s a harsh realization. Like it was the one time they didn’t go on a mission together and the reader got hurt real bad (like Ghost only found out because he happened to be on the tarmac when the reader’s body was being carried out of a helicopter by medics) and that’s how he realizes he loves the reader. Because it hits him like a ton of bricks that he might loose them and just breaks down but it ends with him being by the reader’s side and confessing in his own way when they wake up

—Blood Like Obsidian

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

He doesn’t recall how he felt the moment he spotted your body being dragged out of that Helo, arm limp over the shoulder of one of the men in your unit. He doesn’t even remember what Soap was talking to him about on the tarmac. 

Because at that instance, the entire world seemed to stop in one horrible moment of mute panic and brown, wide eyes. 

Simon watched for a moment in shock, seeing your limp form as the soldier carrying you screamed out for a medic, moving as fast as he could in the direction of the on-base hospital; jostling you. Soap finally looks over.

“Holy hell,” the Scot breathes, head pulling back. 

Simon’s already sprinting. 

“Give her to me,” he growls to the soldier, who looks up at him in shock as he appears like an apparition. 

“S-sir, I—”

“Fucking hand her over!” Simon orders, eye flashing, his accent already making the aggressive voice even more so as he spits from behind his mask. 

The man immediately presents your unconscious form, blood so saturated into your gear that the black looks like obsidian; shiny like that natural glass formed after lava cools. There’s a damn hole in your chest. 

Taking you up easily, your dead weight makes his chest tighten, a sharp inhale sounding off from Simon before he grits his teeth and holds you tighter.

The Lieutenant grunts and takes off, feet slamming into the ground. He glances down at you in rapid intervals, gazing at your expressionless face for long seconds before it snaps back up to the road ahead—it’s no more than a few seconds before Simon slams his shoulder into a door. 

The barrier hits the far wall and nurses all look up in momentary fear.

“Help her!” He sounds desperate, and his hands dig into you harshly. If you’d been awake, you’d be telling him to let go before you developed marks. The nurses are still paused at the sudden appearance of the monster-ish man in black and gray. Simon barks like a dog, stepping closer. “Fuckin’ hell, are you bastards bloody deaf?!”

The others dash forward and tell him to place you on one of the rolling beds, and he does so without another word; heart so violently beating in his chest that he’s panting, breath loud in his own head.

The nurses are calling to one another, yelling to grab an available doctor and get you into surgery, beginning to wheel you away. Simon jogs along, eyes not leaving your face but ever silent with his hands clenched.

He hadn’t given much thought to how he felt about you—nothing was ever going to come of it. Years of missions and companionship with you. You, the ever-present bit of light that had stayed longer than all others. 

You, the only woman he would ever love.

The realization makes Simon’s legs nearly lock from under him, stumbling for a moment as one nurse peels back your vest and takes a pair of scissors to cut away the fabric over the mess of torn flesh and spitting veins.

You leave droplets of blood behind you, trailing off the limp hand that points to the floor from over the edge of the bed. 

Simon grabs at it and brings the hand to your chest, and he notices his own fingers shaking as he desperately moves his eyes up and down your body. He can’t even look at the wound—large, deadly. You jerk around with every movement as if you're already dead.

The Lieutenant feels his eyes burn with stark betrayal but barely pays attention.

As they’re pushing you into a pair of double doors, Simon remembers he was supposed to be with you during this mission, but had been reassigned last minute. The thought is so sudden he nearly forgets to ask where they’re bringing you. But the man recovers quickly.

“Oi!” He shouts, arms pushing him back from the door. Half of the nurses are telling him he needs to leave. He growls and jerks away from them, eyes flashing dangerously but always darting back to the door as it sways back and forth. 

But he knows why he’s out here—and the Lieutenant certainly doesn’t know how to operate on someone no matter how much he did.

He steps back and the rest of the nurses disappear back into your room. 

Simon puts a hand on the back of his head, gripping tightly at the fabric of his covering as he fears his teeth might break from how hard he’s clenching his jaw—grinding them across one another like a cheese grater. 

He loved you. Oh, God, he loved you. 

And he wasn’t there.

Turning away from the door, Simon paces the hallways until Soap re-joins him, any attempt the Sergeant makes at conversation is immediately slashed down ruthlessly. Simon’s shoulders widen; eyes grow more dead the longer you’re gone from his sight. 

It’s five hours until there’s any word, and when there is, the Lieutenant is alone again—his leg jumping along the floor and his hands held in a single fist under his nose; elbows on knees.

When he’s able to see you—stable but the future still uncertain, he sleeps there. 

Simon sleeps on the floor beside your hospital bed for two days straight, and the nurses are too afraid to tell him he can’t do that. So they don’t tell him at all. 

On day three, the man has only left the room to go to the bathroom; no food, no showers, or new clothes. He’d gone through worse, what was hunger? What was the small uncomfortableness in his chest? Nothing. It was nothing. 

During the day he watches your face, standing or sitting doesn’t matter. The nurses come and go, the doctor too, and he lets them work silently. Simon doesn’t speak to them.

But he does speak to you. 

And on day four, he plays with your fingers with a single hand, taking the flesh and watching it move. Feeling your pulse. 

The Lieutenant grunts. 

“Should’ve been there,” he hisses to himself harshly. “Should ‘ave never let you bloody go alone, yeah? Been by my side for ages.” Simon scoffs, glaring at the bedsheets. “My fuckin’ fault you’re ‘ere. No one can watch your back better, should��ve known that.” He misses the small twitch in your hand, too self-absorbed with his faults. 

Simon was never one for airing his grievances; the man was a master at suffering in the quiet nights. But this was a special case.

Your finger twitches again. 

“...Shouldn’t say stuff like that,” your words slur, and Simon’s head snaps up; heart lurching. He goes silent. 

Your eyes are only half-open, body heavy. You’ll be going back to sleep in mere moments, but you’d been awake long enough to understand what was going on. Simon watches, but his hand slips into yours. Grasping tightly. 

An unknown weight is taken from him at the twitch of a smirk on your lips.

“Care about you too, Big Guy.” 

He won’t tell you he loves you—he’s not that kind of person. He won’t explain the panic or the fear. Terror, really. 

But he’ll slip off his mask and let you see him, his thumb running the length of your knuckles. He’ll sigh and those browns will give way to the rare expressions he shows so few. 

He’ll let his head bend down to rest on your thigh as you fall back to sleep. Simon’s hand still holding yours.

You know.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[rileysluvr]

super short price nsfw because i am his girlie til the day i die. he’s a bit of a meanie in this one tho so read with caution!!

“Again,” he orders.

You take a deep, shaky breath in an attempt to somewhat ground yourself, but it’s a difficult feat when you're being held down on your surperior’s hard lap by his big arm splayed over your hips. A thick, dusty book on the desk in front of you, flipped to the page that entirely covers the military-workplace regulations he was scolding you for until tears began to bead at your waterline. You don’t think you’ve ever been this humiliated.

Your vision is blurry, and it’s at that point where your memory serves you better than what you’ve been ordered to do, which is to read until you can’t. He’s broken you down to a writhing mess atop his thigh as both of yours can only drape over one of his huge ones. Back flush against his chest with his palm rubbing your pussy in all the right ways; you swallow thickly, wondering if you can even go on any longer in this state.

“Fifty-nine, oh-one: ‘Service personnel are to wear-” you pause to breathe, fighting back a stutter, “…appropriate regulation uniform on duty—”

A bashful whimper cuts you off mid-recitement as he somehow manages to shove his two fingers even deeper into your cunt, nudging against your nerves rather harshly. Your legs squeeze around his thigh and your hands twitch in their place wrapped around to your sides. All the willpower in your body being used to keep yourself from bucking your hips forward and earning another half-hour of degrading names and treatment.

“Did you hear me tellin’ you to stop?” he barks, but it’s in that calmer manner that spins your mind around until you can’t decipher the difference between anger and sympathy. You shake your head, and you don’t need to have a visual on his face to feel the disapproval teetering off his bitten tongue and firm expression. “Then why don’t I hear you reading, eh?”

Your voice trembles, almost enough for him to take pity on you; “Sir, please- I’m trying.”

You weren’t even on duty today, for fuck’s sake. You had stopped by to pick up a personal belonging, only to be reminded how your captain views you as his own the second you step foot through the base’s front gate. And you were never good at avoiding his stalking gaze, especially when he’s got access to eyes stationed at every nook and corner.

“Christ, y’need me to spell it out for you? Is that it?” he scoffs. “How many times’ve we been over this?”

The way he berates and babies you has your cheeks stained and glistening with tears, and your mind all jumbled considering how easily he switches back and forth from mean to soft. Soft like how his fingers pull out and away from your cunt and hold themselves just far enough to make you shift your hips forward in search of them, only to be held back by his arm’s weight. Mean like his spat words and the grip with which he grabs your jaw, squeezing tight and puffing your cheeks out a bit in an attempt to get you to focus; to knock some sense into that strained, precious little brain of yours.

“Pretty fuckin’ simple task for a soldier, if y’ask me.”

Because deep down, he truly cares about your well-being. He only wants the best for his girl, and the dynamic between you.

And you wouldn’t want to disappoint your superior even more than you already have, now, would you?

He lets go of your face to allow you to finish, a nervous and newfound quietness croaking in your throat in addition to your already shy voice after his display of aggression; “—except when otherwise ordered by a Commanding Officer…’”

“Good girl,” he drags upon your completion, along with his hand that sneaks back into your panties. You jump from the coldness of his skin but he barely pays any mind to it. “Keep going for me, now, pretty. Go ‘head and skip some.”

It’s a repeated process; you recite what you know, mess up due to his cruel ways of sadistic teasing, and watch on from the outside as your self-respect crumbles so easily. You acknowledge it, you feel it, and you willingly ignore it because you know that whatever he plans on giving you afterwards will far surpass any other means to pleasure.

His time, his teachings and guidance, his own pleasure. They’re better than gifts, really.

“‘No item of uniform which has not been authorized is to be worn.’” You mumble for the entirety of the final sentence, now expecting him to get on you for not speaking clearly enough.

Instead, his middle finger delves between your folds and dips into your cunt at last, ripping a hiss and another whine from high in your throat from his rough treatment.

“And who authorizes your uniform?” he finally asks.

He adds his ring finger and the fullness in your cunt would be uncomfortable if the heel of his palm wasn’t digging into your clit at the particular angle. It numbs the stretch and your worries, so much so you nearly forget what he had asked you.

You gasp, eyes shooting open to meet cold, empty office in stark contrast to the warm, staggering frame pressed up against your back. Every muscle and every flex beneath the cotton material of his shirt being embedded into your mind.

“You do, Sir—mph!—it’s only you.”

An approving rumble from his chest vibrates against your back, and you lean into him with a soft moan when he curls his fingers upward in that way he knows you respond to the best. Head leant back on his shoulder, you hold onto his arm to stabilize your spinning mind once he begins slipping his rough fingers in and out of your sensitive pussy more firmly.

“So you show up to base in this pretty, little dress on your off-day, and expect to leave here without any punishment?”

His words exceed intimidating to a great extent, but the way he coos them so gently right by your ear leads directly to you scrambling them into nothing more than sweet blurbs and mumbles. He continues his short scolding as if he doesn’t know how dumb he’s got you already, ready to make you bite the consequences for your inability to respond to him later.

“Distractin’ me ‘nd all the other men here while we work, like you don’t know what your body does to them. What you’re worth around here, to the lot of bastards falling asleep with their dicks in their hands to the pretty image of you dressed like this,” he emphasizes with the tug of your dress’s ending hem.

“Sir,” you whine, not paying a single nod to his language because your numbed mind can simply no longer compute it. Muffled and unclear, though the mean and deep drawl that bleeds through pushes you all the much closer to bliss.

“Feels good, I—please… ’m so, so close, Sir—!”

You whine and clasp your hand down on his arm for some sort of spiritual stabilization, and he only picks up the pace. He works you up so quickly after edging you for what felt like hours, as this time he gives absolutely no notion to relenting.

“That right?” Of course, you can’t respond with much more than a whimper as you rock your hips back and forth on his hard thigh, his skilled fingers working you up to ecstasy.

“Yes, yes ‘m gonna—it’s too much, Sir, ‘m gonna come—!”

He chuckles, his arm around your waist pulling you impossibly closer into him. You convulse around his fingers and moan through your high as he militantly, yet somehow so expertly, turns your vision to stars and your limbs into a limp mess atop him. It’s like he knows your body better than you do yourself, making you come harder with his fingers alone than anyone has ever. You thank him profusely, soft words of mantra like music to his ears as he decides what to do with you next.

He gives you no time to recover before he’s wrapping both his hefty arms around you and hauling you up in front of him, big palm instantly meeting with your shoulder blade to shove you down on the wooden desk and ripping a gasp from high in your lungs. He leans over you, caging you in as he soothes his hand across your forehead; his version of intimacy, and whatnot.

You’re panting, utterly exasperated, but simply can’t help the way you wiggle your hips back against his to chase that good friction. He laughs at your display of neediness for his cock, knowing it’ll be a much longer while before he’ll let you have it.

“My stupid fuckin’ toy,” he mutters softly against your skin, and it sounds just as good as any flattering compliment would.

He takes the hem of your dress and hikes it up to reveal your ass, humming at the sight before leaning back in to kiss your temple. Facial hair tickling and invading your senses, nearly feeling like a sweet treat to shush the way you whine out with his hard bulge pressed up against where you’re most sensitive.

Thoughts of what he could do to you right now running rampant through both of your minds, none differing from each other nor unwanted from either party.

“You’re gonna let me use this body however I like, until you learn to behave yourself ‘round your coworkers. Till you learn a fuckin’ lesson for once. Sound quite alright, sweetheart?”

[killerpancakeburger]

I'm the powder, you’re the fuse

SUMMARY: Soap finds out that his girlfriend is a skilled mercenary. And that he likes it... a lot.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Established relationship, Badass!Reader, Smitten!Soap.

WARNINGS: Canon violence, mention of: blood, death, kidnapping/hostage taking, torture, weapons, suggestive content (Soap is Horny), military inaccuracies, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

A/N: yes I am still writing the civilian fic with Ghost and Soap... but then I had this idea and thought I could finish it ""quickly"". Written on mobile so if there are mistakes feel free to tell me!!

Soap let out a yawn big enough to dislocate his jaw, staring at his captain with mild resentment.

“This couldn’t hae waited til after breakfast, sir?”

“‘Fraid It could not, John. Actually in just a few minutes you'll be barking at me to know why we haven't gotten a move on already.”

Johnny looked back at his superior with perplexity, before glancing over at his teammates around the table, hoping for a scrap of information. Ghost remained imperturbable while Gaz shrugged.

“We received this video thirty minutes ago. Addressed to a certain Sergeant MacTavish.”

His captain turned on the projector and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall behind him. It was his teammates’ turn to glance at him questioningly, and to him to shrug with ignorance.

The Scottish soldier rubbed his face in an attempt to get rid of his lasting drowsiness as the video projected on the white screen facing them was starting.

A group of armed men in balaclavas were occupying a room. The one in the front spouted the classic ransom demand in exchange for a hostage. Nothing worth being summoned at the crack of dawn for.

Then the spokesman moved aside, revealing their detainee, bound to a chair and gagged, shooting daggers at her captors, and Soap almost knocked over the table with how brutally he stood up. Carried away by white-hot fury, he slammed his hands on the table.

“Fuckin’ - what the fuck is this!? When did this happen? Where are those fucking bastards? I -”

Rage had roughened his usually smooth voice, granting it a gravelly pitch, turning his shout into a growl.

“Control yourself, Sergeant”, interrupted Price, “It's not over yet.”

On the screen, the same man as before grabbed your hair, ignoring your murderous glare, forcing you to look at the camera, and coaxed you with disdain before taking off your gag:

“Come on doll, gonna have to beg real pretty for your man to get him to rescue you.”

The second your mouth was freed, you snarled at him, baring your teeth like you were about to bite.

“I'm gonna rip your throat out with my bare hands, you f-”

“Fuck, someone muzzle that rabid bitch”, swore your agressor, your belligerence clearly having thrown a wrench in his plans.

Soap could not help the flare of pride soaring in his chest at the view of your defiance and your grit.

After receiving their orders, the team left the room to prepare themselves for the assault. 

“A friend of yours?” asked Gaz, while Ghost questioned “Ya know her?”

“That's mah girl”, admitted the Scotsman, a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away. The cat was out of the bag. For your own sake, you had been a well-kept secret, but it was blatant that it didn’t protect you.

“Been together for a year. Never meant to drag her into this, though.”

“She sounds like a bloody riot, mate.” teased Garrick.

“She doesn't seem fazed to be taken hostage. Mainly pissed.” pointed out Ghost, wary.

“She's fearless.” admitted Soap with an enamored little smile. “Doesn't mean we don’t have to get her out of this though.”

His expression shifted from fondness to cold determination.

“‘F course.”

“We've got your back.”

“Gaz? You copy?” called Ghost over coms.

The afornamed was tasked with overwatch. His response arrived, marked by hesitation.

“...  I don't think she needs our help, guys.”

“The fuck s’that supposed to mean?” grumbled the Lieutenant.

“It'd be better if you'd see for yourselves. Third window on the right, second floor.”

Ghost took out a pair of binoculars and pointed them at the given position.

“Fooking hell…”

The expletive was mumbled with a mix of surprise and… awe?

“What? What! Lemme see L.T.!” pleaded Soap.

Ghost quickly passed him the tool, eager to make him shut up. The sergeant hastened to shove them against his face. His gaze took in the sight in front of him and he let out an appreciative whistle.

“Steamin’ jesus…”

He drank in the view that was your bloody display of fierce skill and deadly efficiency. You staggered between the enemies with fluidity, making them seem like clumsy amateurs. Slicing a throat there, shooting a head here, he watched with fascination as you used a dead attacker as a human shield.

“I think I'm hard.”

“TMI,  Soap.” 

Gaz coupled his comment with a gagging noise.

“Can ye blame me! Mah lass is oot there bein’ a bonafide badass ‘n’ that's the hottest shit a've ever seen.”

“M not blaming you for being a horny bastard, I'm blaming you for not keeping it to yourself.”

“If you two are done bickering, we could go pick her up.” groaned Ghost.

Letting Garrick past, he grabbed Soap by the shoulder as he was walking by him.

“You knew?”

“Knew what?”

“That you were going out with a killer.”

“Nae, but it turned out to be a good thing, didn’t it? Cannae imagine how badly this would have ended with a civilian. The wounds, the trauma…”

Ghost let out one of his grunts that Johnny knew meant “I disagree but it's not worth debating you about it.”

Positioning themselves near that final entrance, Soap nodded in response to Ghost's hand signal, waiting for him to break the door down. They were still on their gard in case some of the assailants survived.

In the ensuing silence, your voice reached his ears through the wall he was propped against.

“Come on doll”, you taunted, imitating your captor's scornful tone from earlier, sickly sweet then venomous. “Tell me who you work for and I won't gouge out your remaining eye.”

Johnny gulped. Eavesdropping on this definitely did not help with the… situation in his pants.

The racket produced by Ghost dealing with the door had the merit to make him focus once again. 

His body moving automatically, his training taking over, Soap charged into the room, pointing his rifle at the only person left standing there. Like a reflection of himself, you were aiming your own firearm at him. Your eyebrows were frowned in concentration, your eyes glinting with cold determination. Then recognition dawned on your face, and you heaved a sigh of relief, lowering your weapon.

“It's you! You scared the shit out of me.”

Relief flooded through him at the sight of you, bruised, battered, and blood-spattered, but alive. He tossed his gun aside as you put down yours, ready to embrace you, but Ghost's voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Back off, Soap.”

An order. Johnny stared at him in shock.

“What the hell, L.T.?”, he hissed in his direction.

You docilely raised your hands in the air as the masked man lined up the end of his gun's barrel with your head.

“Worst rescue party ever”, you mumbled to yourself.

“Sorry, Johnny”, grumbled Skullface, not sounding sorry in the slightest, never taking his eyes off you. “But do your usual conquests take down a dozen armed men on their own?”

Illustrating his words, he gestured with his rifle to the ground littered with corpses. The man you had started to interrogate - the only one left alive - whined in pain.

“So what's your deal? Ya a mole? Shagging Johnny for intel?”

“Ghost!” Soap gasped, offended for himself as much as for you. “M not some clueless newbie!”

You made a face at the question. You understood where he was coming from, hell you’d do the same if the roles were reversed, but that didn’t mean you enjoyed sharing details of your sordid past, especially with a stranger. The less people knew about it, the better.

“I used to be a mercenary for a family who did organized crime. Been clean for years though.”

“Oh yeah? They let you leave just like that?”

“The boss’ daughter had a soft spot for me.”

The lieutenant stared at you for a few more seconds, as if judging the veracity of your statements through sight alone, before lowering his weapon.

A resounding “Bonnie!” rang out. Next thing you knew, your boyfriend's muscular arms closed around you, causing you to yelp, pain running through you at the overeager contact. Soap cursed and apologized profusely.

“Bloody hell, a'm sorry, didnae mean tae hurt ye. Are ye alright? Show me where it hurts. If those bastards leid a hand on ye, I swear-”

There was something both flattering and arousing with how the more Soap lost his cool, the more pronounced his accent became, and the rougher his voice sounded. You placed a finger across his mouth to put an end to his verbal onslaught, an endeared smile on your own.

“At ease, soldier. I'm OK, just some bruised ribs and a busted eyebrow.” you summarized while pointing to the trickle of dried blood on the side of your face.

He leaned his forehead against yours, a gesture that felt terribly intimate, an adoring grin adorning his lips.

“Cannae believe ye wiped out those sorry fuckers all on yer own. Fuck, that's hot.” he confessed in a subdued tone.

You threw your head back in laughter, only to wince when your sore ribs manifested themselves.

“Never heard that one before. Could get used to it, though.”

You laced your fingers behind his neck, nonchalantly leaning against him, not fighting back an impish smile. Soap's hands grabbed your hips in response. Your roguish expression must have gotten the better of his restraint, because one breath later, he was hungrily pressing his mouth against yours. You replied in kind, swiftly deciding you did not care for his colleagues’ presence, and he moaned in appreciation.

After a minute or two, you broke the kiss against your will, remembering an issue that needed to be solved. You smiled, amused by the vision that was Soap chasing your lips blindly, then pouting when you refused him.

“So you guys are gonna take care of the bodies, right…? I can deal with one or two, but this is a bit much.”

The last soldier, the one you didn’t hear from yet, a pretty man with dark skin that Soap would later introduce as Gaz, assured you that they would handle it.

Transferring your attention back to Johnny, you noticed a trace of guilt in those ocean eyes of his, as he was staring at you.

“Something wrong?”

“Ye not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” you frowned.

“It's mah fault if those bastards took ye.”

“Oh, Johnny…” you sighed wistfully, cupping his face. “I knew what the risks were when I chose to date a soldier. Plus, there will always be a chance that my past catches up to me. I was pretty fucking mad when I got a hood shoved on my head and my arms twisted behind my back before getting hauled away in the middle of the fucking night, but not at you.”

Once they gathered all the intel they needed and dragged away the only survivor, the team and you left the building. Your testimony was required for the mission report, so you accompanied them without protest, longing for the care that would be provided by their medical facility.

As you were walking to their vehicule, hand in hand with Soap, you noted how he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

His cerulean eyes kept greedily roaming all over you, like you were a vision so dream-like it was making him doubt your reality, like you would vanish the second he stopped contemplating you.

“Yer one badass lass, y'know that? ‘M so proud o’ ye. Proud tae be yers.”

A/N: Ghost's "grunts that Johnny knew meant “I disagree but it's not worth debating you about it.” " is based on my grandma 💀

[corazondebeskar-reads]

no loyalty in the apocalypse

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 17 - hostage situation | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 578

summary: Your group falls victim to Joel Miller's hunters.

warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, non-con, past non-con, hostage is not quite accurate but we'll pretend, captivity, dark!Joel, raider/hunter!Joel, Joel Miller is Not a Nice Man, canon-typical violence, gun violence, descriptions of murder, oral (m receiving), forced oral, ambiguous ending, dick sucking at gunpoint (but no gun play), yet another one I may return to some day idk, no use of y/n, joel can pick reader up (but imo, joel can pick anyone up. this is game joel, he's a brick fuckin house.)

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They’ve got you lined up on your knees, hands behind your head. Well, they have what’s left of you. 

You’d never seen Joel Miller or his crew before. Obviously, because you’re still alive. And he hadn’t exactly introduced himself, but he didn’t really need to. 

His brutality and bloodlust preceded him. 

“…so happens, I’ve got a coupla openings. Anyone here whose loyalty ain’t?”

Beside you, Paul raises his shaking hand. 

“Yeah? You ready to turn on your boss?”

“Yes, sir,” Paul says immediately. 

Several of Joel’s men snicker. You feel the spray hot on your side before the crack registers in your ringing ears. 

Oh god.

Joel’s wearing a lazy, crooked grin and strolls casually down the line. He tips your chin up with the hot barrel of the gun, and you whimper. 

“You his girl?”

You don’t want to speak but you’re afraid to jostle the weapon, so you whisper, “Yes.”

“He disloyal like that to you?”

You really don’t mean to, but you scoff a little. “Was his girl, not his girlfriend.”

“Oh,” his grin curls. “So I just shot your master. Guess that makes you mine, now.”

You shudder and stay quiet. 

He doesn’t like that. The gun drags up the line of your jaw to your temple. “Rather follow him to hell, sweetheart?”

“No, sir,” you whisper. 

“Go on then. Show me if you’re gonna be worth it.”

He doesn’t lower the gun. 

Your hands shake as you bring them to his belt buckle and pry it loose. You can do this. You’ve done worse for Paul. Same shit, different dick. 

When his cock springs free, you can’t help it. You gasp. 

Joel laughs. “Guessin’ I’m a little bigger than you’re used to?”

You nod. 

“Get chokin’ on it, then.”

And, god help you, you do. Not that you think any god will help you. If they were going to, they would have done it by now. If they gave a shit.

It’s clear that no one gives a shit.

So you give him your best. You take the fat, drooling head in your mouth and suck, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. You don’t move your hands from behind your head.

You get the feeling he isn’t one for the build up, so you try to acclimate to his girth as fast as possible. He’s about as long as Paul but twice as thick. When you start choking on him, as requested, he holds you there with a hand on the back of your head. After that, he picks up the control and fucks into your mouth.

You’ve gotten pretty good at taking it, so you do. He gives you no warning before he spills down your throat, but doesn’t seem to mind that you cough and sputter after, gasping.

“Good enough to buy you a couple of days,” he says with a shrug. He finally withdraws the gun from your head. “Get the fuck up.”

He doesn’t wait for you, just drags you by the collar of your shirt and lets you stumble to follow. He shoves you up against the cold side of a truck, face pressed against the passenger window, and ties your hands behind your back. 

Satisfied, he hoists you up and drops you into the bed of the truck. You scream a little in surprise and a lot in fear. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he barks. “It ain’t a long ride. Not a fucking sound, or I’ll dump ya in the river instead. Got it?”

[bbyseok]

thinking about boss pro hero!bakugou and being his assistant in his hero agency. i’m sure there’s plenty of posts about it but i can’t just get it out of my head..

you’re at your designated desk, zoning out with thoughts about a certain blonde who so happens to be your boss—the very same blonde who’s interrupting your daydreaming to glare down at you.

you don’t know how long he’s been standing there—and he just stares at you. with a yelp, you straighten and sit up in your chair, wheels rolling against the carpet.

“dynamight!” you greet him hastily and flash up a sheepish smile, hoping you hadn’t embarrassed yourself. “sorry, i- uh, do you need help with something?”

“no, i just-” he clears his throat and that’s when you realize with a startling squint that he’s blushing. “i asked if- if you could take tomorrow off.”

before you can actually form words and reply to his sudden request, he winces very subtly and his blush deepens. “wait, ‘m your fuckin’ boss. you have tomorrow off,” he states matter-of-factly.

you blink in surprise, mind absolutely whirling. “i- i don’t understand?”

bakugou’s face is unreadable; his resting bitch face is present even during this confrontation—but the only difference is the pink dusting his cheeks. “there’s a katsudon restaurant a couple streets down from the agency. you better be there after my afternoon patrol is done.”

you’re pretty sure your jaw almost hits the floor. “what? i- uh, huh?”

he stares hard for two seconds before he’s scoffing and crossing his arms. “you heard me.”

you did. you really did hear him—but you’re not entirely sure that you’re not being delusional with your head in the clouds. is he.. asking you out?

albeit, not directly, as the man was practically demanding you to meet him somewhere out of the workplace.. in what sounds like a typical date setting. (it’s very bakugou of him.)

it’s obvious you’re staring in disbelief because he barks out an impatient “oi!” and you scramble for words. “yes-! yes, i- i’ll see you there, sir!”

his features soften and he looks, dare you say, relieved out of all things. “it’s bakugou, dumbass,” he corrects you in a grunt. “go back to work. you better be there tomorrow or fuckin’ else.”

and then there’s a big dumb smile stretching over your lips as you give him a nod and you swear you see his blush intensify. “i’ll be there.”

his eyes linger on you for a couple more heartbeats before he begins to stalk off. “good.” he then says over his shoulder, “and don’t be late!”

the rest of the office watches the great dynamight leave, dead quiet as the entire floor processes what just happened.

you’re in a daze. did that really just happen?

“holy shit.” one of your coworkers break the silence finally. “i’m pretty sure you just got a date with the boss.”

[jawabear]

Don't disobey

Captain John Price x Reader

Not my GIF

A/N: i'm sorry that apparently i can only write smut for this man. but i a smutty for this man. i don't think i'm very good at writing dark fics but here you go. enjoy!

Genre: Smut, angst (i guess?), Fluff at the end

Warnings: AFAB!Reader, rough!price, Dark!posessive!price, boot humping, oral (m.receiving), hair pulling, name calling, edging, daddy price is angry, sir kink (but not really as a kink??), squirting, unprotected sex

Summary: A risky move on the field leaves the captain less than happy with you...

You knew it was a risky move to pull out on the field in the middle of a fire fight. You knew you would get it in the neck for going against Price’s order. But saving an innocent person’s life form certain death at the hands of cartel scum was well worth the bollocking you were bound to get from John. 

When Gaz peeped his head through the door to your room with a grim looking expression you knew what you were in for. “He must be really angry if you’ve got a face like that” you muttered to your friend. 

“He’s pretty fuckin’ pissed, yeah” Gaz held the door open for you as you left the room and fell into step beside him. “I just wanted to say, its been an honour serving with you” he gave you a mock salute that only filled you with more dread. 

“Don’t do that” you swatted his hand away and he laughed. 

“No but seriously, Price is going to kill you” the smile on his face and the humour in his voice didn’t match the seriousness of his words as you now stood outside Price’s office door. “Good luck” Gaz sang before practically skipping away. 

“Bastard” you muttered as you shot him a death glare. You drew in a breath and knocked on the door. 

There was a beat of silence before his low and gruff voice vibrated through you. 

“Come in, (Y/N)” you swallowed before opening the door and stepping into the office. You were staring at the floor, not quite ready to face him just yet. 

“You wanted to see me…sir” you don’t know why you hesitated in your words. But you wished you hesitated longer in lifting your head. For what you saw before you damn near made you flood your underwear. 

John sat beside his desk. Shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, those deliciously hairy and strong forearms on display, his left resting on his desk, fist clenched. His legs spread but firmly on the ground. You wanted to jump into his lap, or at least kneel between his legs and use your mouth to show him how sorry you were. His other hand stroking over his mutton chops as he looked at you. 

Stared at you. A darkness in his eyes you had never seen before. He wasn’t just angry. He was enraged. 

He sized you up as you stood before him. Hands claps in front of you, thighs pressed together for more reasons than one, trying your best not to look into his dark eyes. But it was so hard to look away. Like he was hypnotising you. Using some sort of invisible power to keep your eyes locked on his as he assessed your worth. 

“Sir, I know what happened-“

“I will do the talking Sergeant” he barked. You backed down, shrinking into yourself. He had never raised his voice at you, only when it was too loud for you to hear him in his normal voice. You nodded. 

“You disobeyed my orders” he stated. “You put your self in immediate danger. You nearly got fuckin’ killed” he slammed his fist on his desk making it and you jump. He stood and stormed over to you so quickly you found yourself back up until you hit the door. 

He slammed his arm over your head and pinned you to the door with his body. Your face heated at the distance, or lack there of, between you. You could feel his rage pouring out of his as he seethed, his teeth hard together. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His voice was low, dangerous. Dark. It made your blood run cold. 

“I-I…”you didn’t know what to say. Would could you say in order to earn yourself a smidge of leeway with him? “I’m s-sorry. Sir” 

He let out a laugh. A mocking laugh that sent chills down your spine. “You’re sorry” he said. He pushed his body harder against your, flattening you against the door. “And what is it you’re sorry for? Disobeying me? Putting yourself in danger? Almost getting shot?”

“A-All of it” you said meekly. He made you feel so small. Not just form his height, but his size. The bulk of his stature. He would crush you if he really wanted, and he wouldn’t break a sweat. “Sorry sir. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise”

“No, I know” his tone changed. A mocking, condescending sweetness as he ran a hand down your cheek. “I know you won’t” he grabbed your face between his thumb and fingers, pushing them together until your mouth open for him “because I’m going to teach you how to be an obedient little slut for me. I’m going to teach you to follow my orders. And after I’m done with you,” his voice dropped again as he pressed his lips to your ear, “you will never even think about disobeying me again” 

You could only let out a breath and nod. “Good,” he purred. He reached for the door and locked it. You shivered. He stepped back from you and returned to his chair, sitting in the same position as he was when you entered the office. Only this time the look in his eyes wasn’t just anger, but hunger. Starvation almost. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but in a different way. In a darker way. 

“Take off your clothes” he told you. You blinked at him but knew better than to make him repeat himself. You pulled yourself off the door and began to unzip your jacket. John leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. His legs still spread as he watch you. 

It wasn’t long until you had undressed yourself down to your bra and panties. Price scowled at you,“Take. Off. Your. Clothes.” Each word was laced with a darkness you didn’t want to entertain further. 

You felt so embarrassed you wanted to cry. You had been naked in front of the captain many times. But those times were different. Then, it was to pleasure you. Here, it was to humiliate you. And it was certainly working. You silently thanked every god that he had the curtsy to lock the door and draw the blinds so no one could see in. See you. John wouldn’t allow it anyways. You were for his eyes only. Everyone knew that. 

With shaky hands you unclasped your bra and slid off your panties. Now completely naked in front of him. In the middle of his office. It had never felt so big and so empty. You felt so vulnerable. Felt so naked under his gaze. More than just without clothes, but without a shield. Price could see every inch of you. Inside and out. 

John noticed the way you eyes watered and he called you over to him. “Get on your knees” you dropped to the floor immediately. As if someone had kicked out your knees. “So you do know how to follow orders” he smirked as he tapped your chin with the back of his index finger. “You’re doing well for me,” you had to hold back a whimper. He knew praise was your weakness. “Such a good, obedient, little slut for her captain” 

You nodded vigorously “I-I promised I would be…” you hope the innocent tone you put on would be enough to start the path to forgiveness. But it was never that easy with John. Pretty words would never cut it with him. No. You would have to prove it. Good thing you were hoping for that when you entered the room. 

 John moved to undo his belt, watching you watch him with hungry eyes. But he stopped. He rested a hand on your head “undo my belt” he ordered. 

You whimpered a little and struggled with undoing the leather belt. You didn’t slide it out of the loops but your fingers hesitated over the zipper to his trousers. You flicked your eyes up to him and he gave a subtle nod. You pulled down the zip and spread out the flaps a little. You could clearly see his bulge in his dark grey boxers. You couldn’t stop your mouth from watering at the anticipation of having that fat cock in your mouth, your pussy, where ever he wanted to put it. 

“Pull out my cock, sergeant” you didn’t hesitate. Fishing it out of his boxers. It was already hard. Hard and red. The head gleaming with pre-come. You swallowed. You eyed the vein that ran from the base to the tip. You shock at the memory of how it felt pressing against your walls as fucked toy senseless. 

His grasp tightened in your hair. Tugging at the strands. “Put it in your mouth. Suck my cock like a good little soldier” you nodded your head and quickly pulled him into your mouth. 

Bobbing your head up and down his thick cock had him moaning and pulling at your hair. “That’s it. Good girl” you pressed your thighs together. The nickname making your pussy throb. You so badly wanted to rub your clit. To relieve some of the pressure but you didn’t want to be bad for him. Not again. 

You couldn’t help but close your eyes as you pulled him further into your mouth. The head of his cock hitting the back of your throat “oh fuck” he swore lowly. The noise vibrating through you. He grabbed the sides of your head and held you there. His dick buried in your throat. Your eyes filling with tears as you struggled to breathe through your nose. Your nails dug into his clothed thighs. But you didn’t pull back. You wanted to please him. “Swallow around me” you did. Constricting your throat around his cock. He flung his head back and bucked his hips into your mouth making you gag. He pulled out of your mouth and looked at you. His hands still holding your face. A hint of worry behind those dark eyes. You gave him a gently smile, silently telling him you were okay to continue. 

He grunted and guided your mouth back on him, not as deep this time. You took the rest of him in your hand and pumped his shaft while you sucked the head of his cock. “That’s it. That’s it Sergeant. So good at sucking cock. ‘Bout all your good for it seems” 

You shook your head. “No?” He chuckled. “Well what else are you good for? You can’t follow orders in the field, but you can for sucking my fat cock in that pretty little mouth of yours” You muffled your words as you sucked him. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full” he smirked and pulled you off him by your hair. 

You swallows and drew in a breath “good for you to fuck” you admitted to him. Face heated, chin covered in drool. You were a mess. But he loved it. 

“Now that is a thought” he said. He pushed your mouth back onto his cock. Encouraging you to take him a bit deeper this time. Your hand still pumping what you couldn’t fit it. 

Your breathing became laboured when you felt his boot stroke up your thigh. Your head spun as you tried not to come right there. “S-Sir” you spluttered around him. He slipped his boot between your legs and dragged it over your soaked pussy. “Captain…please” 

“I’m the one giving orders” he reminded you “ride it. Like the filthy slut you are. Get yourself off on my boot” 

You didn’t bother to hide your excitement and enthusiasm. You adjusted your position and gripped hold of his leg with your free hand and began grinding your pussy onto his boot. You moaned loudly around his cock when you made contact, the friction you desperately needed. 

“Such a pathetic little soldier” he somewhat cooed at you. Tilting his head as he examined you. Examined the way you humped his foot while sucking his cock. Looking at you heated face, you heavy eyes that were filled with tears and pupils blow black with lust. You looked pathetic. You looked like a slut. You looked like his. 

“Desperate, hm?” John smiled a dark smile at you. “Must be. Soaking my boot with that little pussy. Bet you wish it was my cock. My cock inside that tight little kitty. Fucking your brains out like the disobedient little whore you are” 

You shivered. Trembled at the tone. That dark, hungry, possessive tone. You nearly sobbed. Your pussy fluttering around nothing. So close to coming. He pulled you off his cock by your hair again. “Edge yourself” he told you “keep fucking yourself like a bitch in heat. Keep humping my leg, but don’t you dare fuckin’ come” 

You nodded your head “yes sir. Yes sir. I will” you panted. You wrapped your arms around his leg, grinding yourself on him. Moving yourself so you could feel the rough fabric of his combat trousers against your clit. It was mind numbing. 

He didn’t stop you. You edged yourself on his leg for nearly twenty minuets. When you felt yourself getting close you would stop, starting again when it died down a little. But you were crying on the nineteenth minuet. 

“C-Captain” you sobbed laying your head in his lap. “P-Please. W-want t-to…” you moaned loudly as your edge rose up inside you again. 

“Want to what? Come? And disobey my orders again?”

“No! No. Want to be good. Don’t want to disobey!” You cried. 

“Good girl” he moved his foot an inch. But that inch was enough to have you tumbling unexpectedly over the edge of pleasure. Squirting over his boot. 

“Fuck! Fuck! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” But you kept riding it out. Riding his leg as you soaked him. 

He glared at you. He stood. You fell backwards, twitching and writhing with pleasure. “Get up and bend your arse over my desk” you struggled to you feet but did as he said. You eyes still streaming with tears as you bent yourself over his desk. Your ass on full view for him. Thighs soaked with your juices. 

“Did I or did I not tell you not to fucking come?” He grabbed your ass in his hands. Gripping the flesh. You hands gripped at the edge of his desk. 

“Y-You d-did” you whimpered. 

“And did you or did you not come?”

“I-I…” you sucked in a breath “I did!” 

“So what does that make you?” You didn’t answer. You couldn’t answer. You didn’t want to admit it. But he wanted you to answer him. He made that clear by slapping your ass. You couldn’t tell if it was his hand or his belt. Either way it stung in the most delicious way. 

“Disobedient…” you said. 

“Well done” he praised “for having the courage to admit it to me. But now we need to fix it. So I’ll take you up on your earlier offer. Make use of you the only other way you’re good for” he shoved his cock inside you so quickly you could barely register the stretch “fucking. This. Tight. Little. Pussy” he punctuated each word with a thrust of his hips and a slap to your ass. 

“S-Sir” you whined. He ignored you and kept ramming himself into you. Your knuckles turned white at the force of your grip on the edge of his desk. 

“Such a good little pussy. So wet for my. You like getting punished? Like being a bad girl?” 

“N-No Captain. Want to be good” you screams a little when he hit a particularly good spot inside you. 

“Seems you do like it” he retorted. “You do like it when I punish you. When I’m tough with you. When I fuck your little hole like this” 

John moved his hands to your hips. His fingers digging into your skin, your flesh, bound to leave marks if not bruises. “This pussy is mine. Your body is mine. You are mine. No one will take you away from me” his voice shook for a split second. Clearly he was replaying the day in his mind. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine. I want to hear you say it when I fill you up with my come” 

You swallowed and tried to catch your breath but he knocked it out of with with every thrust of his hips inside you. “I-“ you tried by your voice got caught in your throat. “Yours” you panted. Your voice quiet and muffled due to your face being shoved against the desk. 

You knew John wouldn’t stand for it. He wrapped your hair around his fist and yanked your head up “speak clearly, sergeant” he ordered “tell me your mine or I won’t let you come with me” you let out a few desperate pants as you tried to formulate your words. You could feel his hot breath beating over your ear. He was waiting. Literally breathing down your neck. 

“I’m yours! Only yours, John! Always yours! I’ll never leave you! I promise!” You cried. Tears flooding down your face. 

“Thats it. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. Now come. Come for me. Come with me” he didn’t need to repeat him self before you came around him. Soaking and strangling his cock as he shot his load into you with a low grunt that only made you pussy clench tighter around him. Your legs were like jelly. John wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you up so you could rest your weight on him. You rolled you hips against him as he continued to come inside you. “So good. So good” he whispered into your ear “I love you. I love you” 

“Love you too” you whimpered. “‘M so sorry, John. I’m so sorry. I won’t…I won’t do it again” you turned in his arms, his cock slipping out of you as you did. You buried yourself into his chest, still shaking both from pleasure and the sob that tore through you when he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your head.

“I know sweetheart. I know. I’m sorry too” he soothed “I just can’t loose you. You mean to much to me” You only nuzzled further into his chest and let him slowly begin to sway you side to side. “Are you okay?” You hummed a yes and he kissed your head again. 

“Tired” you mumbled. 

“Go rest. You need it” he tried to push you away but you clung to him like a koala. 

“Want to stay with you” you whined. He chuckled and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

“Needy thing” he carried you over to the sofa on the side wall of his office. He sat down with a groan and held you close against his chest. “there. Now rest”

“But I’m naked” 

“Stop being difficult” he warned. 

“Sorry” you let out a small sigh and felt your eyes getting heavy “I really am sorry John. I didn’t mean to make you worry or angry” 

“I know. You did a good thing. I just don’t like how you did it. We’ll discuss it when you wake up. So go to sleep” 

“Yes sir” 

19/1/23

[alien-magnolia]

My heat’s here (Jake sully)

Fic description: Navi mating ritual, heat/pheromones/omegaverse, dom! Jake Sully, sub/fem!omaticaya reader, breeding kink, manhandling, sir kink., jealousy, 18+ MDNI

“My mate. Now that you are fully Na’vi, I gotta warn you about somethin’,” Jake says to you, as the two of you lay on the grass, your head on his chest, his arms snug around you. 

“Hmm?,” you stir, too busy reveling in the warmth of his chest. “Your heat, babygirl,” Jake says to you, gently. You lift your head off his chest for a moment, looking up at him inquisitively. “What’s that?,” you ask, with such innocence. Jake swore that your innocence drove him crazy sometimes. He sighed, thinking to restrain himself. He knew he would not be able to once your heat arrived.

“Well, think of it as a period, one that you got when you used to be human. But this time, you’re just very turned on, and you got a lot of these pheromones around you,” he explains. “So it will affect you, ma Jake?” “Yes. I’ll try not to be too rough with you, babygirl. Don’t wanna hurt your pretty lil’ body,” he coos at you, and you hum contently, laying your head back down on his chest. Your tails intertwine as you both watch Pandora’s moon rise on a hill atop of the forest canopy. 

Days later, your heat arrived as expected. You woke with the rising sun shining through your hut, and you would usually welcome the sun, it was one of Eywa's great creations. However, today it burned your eyes, your head hurt, you felt a pain in your body. At first you thought you were sick. But then you felt it — the intense need for cock. Your Jake’s cock.

Your womb was empty, just waiting to be filled!! You croak out, “Ma Jake. Where are you? Need you…,” you trail off. You began to worry. Where was he? Did he leave you, did he not need you anymore? You rise up off your sleeping mat, and begin to pace around the hut.

Your worries were satiated by Jake’s arrival. “Just for some breakfast for us, babygirl,” he shouts as he walks through the little doorway (made of bark of course!) His expression and demeanor changes once he sees you, once he smells your sickeningly sweet pheromones. You see that look of aggressive, predatory, lust in his dilated yellow pupils. 

You’ve never seen him walk over to you this quick. His calloused hand reaches over to you, cupping your cheek, while his other hand steadies you, as you begin to lose your balance.

“Baby. You’re heating up,” he says with concern, attempting to restrain himself, although his eyes told otherwise. “Ma Jake…what is happening to me?,” you cried out. “Your heat, babygirl. Told you it would come soon. Don’t worry. Gonna help you out. Gonna take care of my mate,” he whispers to you, pulling you in for a gentle kiss. He leads you over to the bed, helping you lay down on it. You could tell — he was restraining himself. It looked like he wanted to devour  you — you hoped that he did. 

He’s on top of you, towering over you like a God. His lips meet yours, his forehead close with you only soothed the ache in your womb for just a bit. You needed more. You reach on to grab onto his muscular arms. “Ma Jake…please. Need you. Hurts. It hurts,” you wail out. “Tsaheylu, please,” you whisper to him. He immediately obliged and brought his braid over to yours, connecting the two. You felt amazing, you felt his body, mind and soul. 

“I know, sweetie. Know it hurts. Can feel it. Gonna…fuck. Take care of you,” he almost growls, and then uses his strength to flip you over onto your stomach, his hands squeezing and kneading your thighs, your waist. “So fuckin’ glad no other Na’vi men can smell you right now… gonna show them who you belong to,” he almost growls out.  Your heat just made him so possesive!! You feel his torso on your back, and before you know it, you feel his fangs digging into your shoulder. You squeal a bit, his sharp fangs digging into your soft shoulder! “Don’t move,” he hisses, one of his hands moving back to reposition you.

You mewl and moan as he trails kisses all over your shoulder, your back, and one of his hands comes up to lift you by the neck, just a bit. “You gonna be good f’me babygirl?,” he asks, his tail erratic, his eyes and soul burning for you. 

“Yes, ma Jake. Please,” you breathe out. “Yes, what,” he says, lowly, with a bit of a hiss. You loved it when he hissed, it was so scary and yet attractive!  “Yes, sir,” you murmur, ashamed that your heat-induced brain forgot to call him by his title in the bedroom. “S’okay, babygirl. All that heat got you a little dumb, huh? That’s okay. Don’t need to think on my cock,” he chuckles, almost patronizing in a way. That little comment was accompanied by a few slaps on your ass. You liked the pain :) especially from the rough hands of your Jake.

Your pussy is just clenching on nothing at this point. Your ass is red, tail against his torso, you were just grinding up onto him at this point. 

“Ma Jake!!,” you scream at him, you wanted his cock, you wanted it SO badly!! His blue hand teases you again, running down your abdomen. He lifts himself off of you, two hands on your hips, positioning you. 

You finally feel a twinge of clarity as you feel his hot, soft cockhead slip past your folds and into your warm pussy. You moaned again, you just wanted him deeper and deeper!! “Fuck. My girl, sucking me in…,” he grunts, as you begin to feel his rhythmic thrusts, his skin slapping against yours, his heavy balls dragging against your slit!!

“Ma Jake, deeper, please, sir… you moan out. He listens, his soft tip lightly grazing your g-spot, you feel his cock pulsating and twitching inside you, it just turns you on so much!! You squeeze tighter and tighter around him. You feel his veiny hands trail around your front to grip at your soft breasts momentarily, before returning to their guiding place on your hips, his grip so tight on you. Oh Eywa — he was strong. 

“Feel you squeezin’ me, princess. Tell me what ya want. Go on,” you hear his deep and a bit slurred voice above you. He must have been absolutely delirious by how tight you were around him. “Want your knot, ma Jake…please,” you whisper out in a breathy moan. He smirks above you, a wide, predatory smile that has his fangs baring. You hear his chuckle, Eywa, you always loved how deep his voice was. 

“Stay still, babygirl. Gonna give you my knot, gonna - fuck, make you mine, gonna fill you up,” he barely moans out, he was so close, you felt it. You both came at the same time, you were seeing white, hot pleasure, he was seeing the same. It felt just as if it was an intense experience connecting to Eywa. 

You started crying after you came around. You felt so at peace with his thick knot buried inside you. You also just felt so loved by him, that tears were natural at this point. You realized he must have turned you around in your haze, you now laying on top of his chest, while he was on his back. He notices your tears. 

“What is it babygirl? What’s gotcha upset?,” he asks, you can feel his concern through tsaheylu. “Just. Just. You make me feel so complete, ma Jake. This heat was frightening, but not with you. You took away some of that pain, ma Jake, I see you,” you whisper to him, watching his big yellow eyes closely for a reaction. 

He smiles back at you, his eyes soft and loving. “Anything for my mate, my world. I’d die for you, babygirl,” he says to you as he pulls you closer for a sweet, long kiss. There was no better feeling on all of Pandora than being wrapped up in your mate’s arms, laying with him, all protected and loved, (and stuck on his nicely sized cock and knot)!!

a/n: will probably make a part two, where Jake gets his rut :) enjoy hehe

avatar taglist: @23victoria @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @jake-sullys-whore @aerangi @brioffthegrid

[asliceofzosan]

pspsps Zeff meeting Ayari 👀👀👀

oH YOU REALLY DONE DID IT NOW

zeff knows how much sanji loves kids.

he first noticed it when he was roughly turning into a teenager. around the age of 13-14. it isn't often that families come to the baratie. but when they do, sanji actually volunteers to wait tables when on normal understaffed days, zeff would have to drag him out of the kitchen kicking and screaming. he didn't understand it until he decided to watch sanji and everything made sense.

if one is the child of a pirate or a marine, you're bound to be a little fussy (case and point: sanji). and his boy was a natural at calming down fussy babies. those chubby little rascals would immediately stop crying when sanji would pick them up and carry them on his hip, taking everybody's order like usual. the parents would look at him gratefully, even allowing him so far as to let him wait other tables with their baby in his arms.

during sanji's break, he would play with them. if they won't stop crying, he'd ask patty or carne to heat up some milk or mushy vegetables to feed the kid. and more often than not, sanji would sometimes be seen with a sound asleep baby as he barks out the orders to a bewildered kitchen.

zeff asked him once if he wanted a baby sibling. sanji just laughed until his sides hurt.

"you can barely raise me, you old coot." he said in response with a bright grin that reminded zeff how much he loved this kid. "i'm better off as an only child. trust me."

(he does. trust sanji, that is. but he will never forget how his laugh sounded pained. like an echo of a terrible memory. he'll come to realize why after a long while.)

as sanji grew up, his natural gravitation towards children never wavered. in fact, kids often flocked towards him at the baratie, following behind him like little ducklings in a row. sanji's smile was softer on those days, the sparkle in his eyes as prominent as when sanji talks about his beloved all blue. the kids would hang onto his every word.

he doesn't know how qualified he is at knowing good parenting from bad parenting. but he did raise sanji for most of his life. his little eggplant turned out pretty decent by his standards.

so of course, it's a no brainer for zeff that if sanji would one day have his own kid, he'd be the best dad in the world.

"head chef?" patty says as he enters zeff's office. "someone downstairs really wants to meet ya."

"if they want a discount they better fuckin' run." he gruffly replies without looking up from the newspaper. "customer is always right my ass—"

"sir?"

"–and you know what's real upsetting? the fact that they think they're all hot shit! i don't care who you are. you pay to eat here–"

"chef-"

"–would be nice if i didn't get some dumbass like that for once—"

"chef, it's sanji!"

zeff has fought sea beasts, marine fleets, and pirates with a worse death wish than him. he has faced starvation, dehydration, massive bloodloss without batting an eye.

but nothing. absolutely nothing makes his heart jump more than hearing that his son has come home to visit.

"well what the fuck are you doing standing there, patty?" he bellows, standing up and stalking towards the open door. "you better be preparing a feast for my boy."

"actually, he's already in the kitchen cooking one himself."

zeff laughs. that sounds exactly like his boy, alright.

it took zeff all of two seconds to notice that sanji isn't alone.

the swordsman is there, hanging off his shoulder like it's nobody's business (and he's pretty sure sanji mentioned at one point that he had gotten his head out of his ass and finally got together with him. lord was that an ordeal). and it looked normal for a few seconds until sanji turned around to face zeff.

there was a child there.

strapped to sanji's chest with some sort of blanket-like contraption was a baby. it couldn't be more than two years old. its shrieks of delight echoed in the kitchen as it drooled all over sanji's suit. its hair was green – the same shade as that of the swordsman glued to sanji's side. and it was tied up into little pigtails that bounced as it moved.

"zeff!" sanji greeted, that same bright sunny smile plastered on his face. "come meet your granddaughter!"

his... what?

then he looked closer at her and it all made sense.

the curly eyebrows.

but it also made no sense at all. because the longer zeff stared at his granddaughter, the more confused he felt because how in the love of the all blue did sanji get a child that looked exactly like him and his idiot swordsman?

he was so much in his head that he didn't notice sanji take the kid out of her baby sling and hold her out in front of him. he was brought back to reality when one small hand wrapped around the end of his mustache with a continuous giggle. zeff stared at her, his whole world stopped on its axis. he never saw sanji as a baby. he wonders if this is the closest he'll get to experiencing that for the first time...

then the baby pulled on his mustache with a high pitched shriek that could reach the heavens.

"jiji!" the little girl squealed, now holding onto zeff's mustache with two chubby baby hands. zeff stayed rooted to his spot, transfixed by the girl's mere existence. but also there's a stirring in his heart that occurs when she smiles at him. she looks exactly like sanji. though with a lot less teeth.

"would you look at that, old man." zoro laughed as he gently pried his daughter's (????) fingers off of zeff's mustache. "you get her fifth word. congratulations."

on a normal day, (but god what even classifies as normal anymore?) zeff would have probably kicked that swordsman's chest in and sent him flying into the next room. but there's something about the way sanji's smile softens as he watches zoro play with the baby. his eyes mist over and the only reason he probably isn't openly crying right now is because zeff is right there.

there are precious few instances where zeff's seen sanji genuinely happy.

now is one of them.

he coughs roughly to get their attention. all three of them look up, sanji's gaze particularly nervous. but zeff just shook his head, figuring he'll ask all the dumb questions later, and holds his hands out expectantly.

"you gonna let your father hold his grandbaby or or ya just gonna hog her the whole time you're here?"

the laugh that escapes sanji's mouth has both zeff and zoro staring fondly at him. then when sanji transfers his baby girl into zeff's arms, sanji's smile is freer and more open than zeff's seen it in years.

"zeff," sanji says, smoothing down ayari's hair down with one hand, his other hand resting on zeff's bicep. a strong grip. a grounding force. "meet ayari. our little blessing."

ayari coos up at zeff and grabs his mustache again. sanji bends down slightly to rain her little face with a million kisses. zeff just stares at this all with the barest hint of a smile on his face.

yeah. he always knew sanji was gonna be a good dad.

genuinely i am in agony i love this family 😭 do you have any idea how much i was crying while writing this??? is it possible to get baby fever from your own oc zosan baby???

[homomenhommes]

STORY: Dominated

by Brock Archer

Mid afternoon, Sunday

'Wake up, Dude. They're back. Wake up.' Of course, I didn't want to wake up at that point. I wanted to continue floating on the clouds.

'Who the hell told you that you could remove those restraints?' a somewhat familiar voice barked somewhere in the canyons of my head. When I finally managed to get my eyes open, I realized that the sergeant had returned with the corporal and the private in tow. What really threw me, though, was seeing Speed and Dusty standing over me naked. They were completely dressed when I fell asleep. Why were they naked now?

'Sorry, Sarge,' responded Speed, 'but you did say that we could do whatever we wanted to him, and it was kind of hard to fuck him real good with him tied up like that and all.' Speed was covering for me. He and Dusty had stripped down so that they could feed the sergeant a line about why they had untied me.

'All right. It's just as well,' growled the sergeant. He's gonna need to be unshackled anyway for what I've got in store for him.' Sarge walked up to me and grabbed me by the throat. 'You think you can wipe your filthy little tongue on me and get away with it? Well, I'll show you, you sorry little pissant. I was gonna come back here and beat the fuckin' crap out of you, but I came up with a better idea. For the rest of the day, you're gonna be Bull's love slave. He hasn't gotten a piece of your ass yet, but now he's gonna fuck you bloody raw, ain't that right, Bull?'

'Yes, sir, Sarge. You know I always follow orders.'

'How come I smell beer on the dipshit's breath?' snarled the sergeant.

'Oh, well, here's the thing,' prattled Speed, grasping helplessly for an explanation.

'Yeah, the thing is,' interrupted Dusty, 'the motherfucker's breath stank like a goddam sewer.'

'Yeah, a goddam sewer,' added Speed, picking up on Dusty's cue. 'So we poured some beer into his mouth and made him rinse it out.'

'Well, OK. That's good, boys. Carry on.'

While Bull, Sarge, and Sport stripped, Dusty leaned over and whispered in my ear, 'I ain't gonna lie to ya, bro. This is gonna hurt like hell. Believe me, we know! But you can take it. I know you can, and Speed and me's gonna be right here to help you through it. Ain't that right, Speed?'

'Damn right,' Speed whispered in reply, patting me reassuringly on the chest while the others had their backs turned

Other than getting naked, Bull's only preparation was spitting in his hands and lubing his cock with it. All the rest was simple, raw sex. I don't know how much of his cannon he managed to get up my ass, but if he didn't get it all in, it wasn't for lack of trying. He bombarded my ass with one assault after another. He attacked so ferociously that I thought he was going to blast a hole right through me. Occasionally, he would press my ass cheeks together really hard like he was trying to get the maximum pressure on his prick. At other times he would slap them really hard just to hear me scream.

Sarge sat on my face once again, and I didn't have to be told what to do. I licked the root of his dick under his balls, massaged each nut in my mouth, licked his shaft up, down, and all around, and finally swallowed as much of his cock as I could manage. At the same time, Speed and Dusty stood on each side of the bed working on both Sarge and me simultaneously. They pinched our nipples and alternated licking our armpits, first his and then mine, back to his, and so on. Each time they placed their heads under my arms, I smelled the manly sweet aroma of musk shampoo. Obviously, they had showered since the night before, and I fantasized about them showering together.

When Sarge, caught up in the sensation, threw his head back and winced in pleasure, Dusty motioned for Sport to reinforce them. Sport gently chewed on my limp dick until it started to rise. Then, he licked and sucked until it was as stiff as a board. With Bull pumping away at my ass, there was not much room for Sport to squeeze his head in between and lick my balls, so he just rubbed them with his hand and continued to suck my dick.

Totally consumed with their own pleasure, Sarge and Bull paid little or no attention to the considerations that Speed, Dusty, and Sport were giving me. Occasionally, Speed or Dusty would whisper something reassuring in my ear, like men sometimes do when their wives are in labor, but Sarge and Bull were too busy screaming obscenities to notice.

'Fuck him, Bull. Ram that goddam pile-driver up his fuckin' ass.'

'Can't get enough of my hose, can you, cunt? Beg me for it, cunt. Lemme hear you scream for my fuckin' cock.'

And scream I did. How could I not scream? The walls of my rectum burned with the fire of an incendiary bomb. The commando was hell-bound on carrying out his mission, and he would take no prisoners.

'Suck my dick, bitch. Eat me. Suck that fuckin' dick down your goddam throat and scrape your motherfuckin' tonsils with it.'

'Fuck his face, Sarge. Break his fuckin' jaw. Let the goddam son of a bitch know who's in charge here.'

These brutes were not making love to me as Speed and Dusty had done the night before. They were savagely raping me.

As he neared his climax, Bull's dick pulsated madly, his heart pumping vigorously in the barrel of his missile launcher. Finally, he fired one salvo after another deep into enemy territory. Mission accomplished.

Sarge shot his spooge down my throat. I choked and gagged, but he just kept pumping like he wanted to leave a battle scar, a kind of war trophy, on my tonsils. When he was finished with me - for the moment at least - he looked down and suddenly realized that Sport was sucking my cock, so he raised up, grabbed him by the hair on his head, and shoved him into my face. As much as I liked the idea of having Sport tongue me, I felt cheated because I was so close to an orgasm. Getting so near and having it jerked away so suddenly amounted to sadistic torture.

Bull fucked me twice more that afternoon, and each time was more painful than the one before, perhaps because with each successive rape he worked up more steam or perhaps just because my ass was already raw from the previous ones.

On the second occasion, Sarge ordered me to rim Sport's ass. Then he pulled him off of me and ordered Dusty to fuck my face while he screwed Sport. There it was again: my hairy Hercules and my young Adonis locked together in raw, sweaty lust.

The third time that Bull fucked my ass, Sarge simply said, 'Your turn, Speed. Fuck his gums out. I'm gonna sit this one out,' and he swaggered out the door, perhaps to sit on the bench and just listen to the vulgar invectives and horrific screams.

Speed didn't exactly fuck my face, though. Yes, he did stick his cock in my mouth, but he swished it around gently, rubbing my chest and tenderly squeezing my nipples all the while.

Following Sarge's lead, Dusty and Sport decided to sit out this round, too - or so it seemed at first. They literally lay down on the floor behind Bull to rest up from all the activity, but after a few minutes, Dusty rolled over and all of a sudden started sucking Sport's face. The kid seemed shocked at first, not that he objected, but he just didn't expect it coming from Dusty. He didn't think Dusty was into that sort of thing. Of course, Dusty probably hadn't thought he was either until Speed and I showed him how incredibly erotic it can be to kiss another man.

Sunday Evening

After the third round, everyone was ready for a break - me especially, although I was feeling overwhelmingly frustrated because I had just been fucked three times, yet I was the only man who hadn't gotten his rocks off. I was pretty sure that Sarge was not concerned with my needs at that point, however. He was resting up his troops for one final attack. The four men sat outside under the star-studded night sky and shot the bull for at least two hours, maybe three. Sarge and Bull drank beer, and Speed and Dusty smoked pot. They swapped stories about all the girls they had fucked. Of course, Sport did not admit to as many as the others, but in proportion to his age, I would guess that he took the cake. Hell, given how cute he was, he probably had had more than any of them but just didn't want to show them up. I bet he had fucked three or four babes a week since he was 12, maybe even three or four at the same time. I could easily imagine that by the time he graduated, he had fucked every girl in school and half of their mothers - and nearly as many of their brothers and fathers.

Once they had finished relating their conquests and regaining their strength, they re-entered the cabin. Bull positioned himself to invade me again, but the sergeant pulled him back. 'Not this time,' he said. 'This time he's mine.' He knelt down at my ass, but before he entered me, he directed the other four men to gather around. Bull crouched over my face, and the other three stood on either side of the bed. Sarge reached over to his right and began pulling on Sport's dick. Sport, in turn, reached to his right and grabbed hold of Bull, who grabbed Speed, who grabbed Dusty, who grabbed Sarge. Much to my disappointment, though, they left my dick unattended. It was a five-man circle jerk. When each man was hard to the sergeant's satisfaction, he lifted my legs over his shoulders as he had done before and began to enter me - much more gently than I expected.

As Sarge fucked my ass and the other men jacked each other off, they talked dirty, but not in a mean-spirited way. It was more like they were complimenting each other on their manliness and their technique. 'I'm gonna cum,' panted Bull. 'Not yet,' commanded Sarge. Wait for the rest of us.' When each man signaled that he was on the verge of shooting his wad, Sarge pulled out of my ass and yelled, 'Now.' Suddenly, streams of white cream flew all over my body like a Roman fountain. Some fell on my face, some on my crotch, and lots on my chest and stomach. To top it all off, Sarge reached down and beat my tender meat, and it only took a few strokes to bring me off. My cum squirted all the way up to my face, some of it even hitting me in the eye. The rest fell on my chest and stomach. I was soaked in man-juice. Hell, it was a testosterone-fueled milk bath, and I was the fuckin' dairy queen.

There were the usual grunts and moans that accompany a male orgasm, but these were followed by deep sighs of satisfaction. 'I gotta lie down,' said Sarge, straining to catch his breath. On that cue, the other four men picked me up by my arms and legs and lay me on the floor. Sarge collapsed on the bed. Bull and Speed sprawled out on the floor, and Dusty and Sport, squeezed up against me, one on either side. Sport began slowly running his finger through the cum drenching my body and sucking it like a child would dip his finger in chocolate syrup and then lick it off. Next, he ran his finger through the cream again and stuck it in my mouth. I could not believe what an incredibly erotic experience it was to suck his manna-laden finger.

Evidently aroused by the sight of this action, Dusty surprised me even more. He rolled over on top of me, pressing his dick against mine and squishing the creamy substance between our hairy bodies. Oh, my God! Here I was enjoying the cum bath I had just gotten, and now this handsome hairy hunk was sharing it with me. After he rolled off of me, I leaned over and licked some of the cum off of him, especially where the blond hair on his chest was particularly thick. After I lay back down, Dusty leaned over and wiped the cum off of my eyelid and lips and stirred his finger in my mouth. Then, we just relaxed and relished the moment.

An hour or so passed with no words spoken. Finally, Sarge broke the silence. 'OK, boys, let's get him cleaned up.' Dusty and Sport pulled me up off the floor and led me outside to the back of the cabin where Sarge (or someone) had rigged up a makeshift shower. It consisted of several kegs with shower heads operated by a hydraulic pump. The water felt cold as it ran down my face and body, but it was amazingly refreshing. Though I had basked in the joy of being drowned in the cum of five beautiful men as well as my own, I was eager to feel clean once again.

Sport flipped the lid on a bottle of liquid soap that he had picked up on our way out of the cabin. He poured some into Dusty's hands and then into his own. The two of them lathered me up, slowly rubbing the suds all over my body. I recalled the hottest, sexiest scene I have ever seen in a movie, the one in which Lee Purcell bathes a barely conscious John Schneider in 'Eddie Macon's Run.' When I saw that movie, I popped a boner and a half. I felt terribly embarrassed in front of my date, especially since it was our first date, but she assured me that at least half of the guys in the theater had probably reacted the same way. In fact, she said, it turned her on too, so we went back to her place and screwed three times that night.

This bath was much better, though, because it was happening to me and not someone on the screen, and instead of being soaped up by one hot chick, I was being rubbed down by two fuckin' hot studs. Since there was so much dried goo all over my body and in my hair, they had to soap me up and rinse me off several times to clean it all off. They got no complaints from me. I loved every stroke, especially in my most sensitive areas. Then, Dusty turned around, and Sport began to clean him up. After all, Dusty was the one who had rolled over and squished the cum between us, so he had almost as much cum on his hairy body as I did. I held out my hands, and Sport filled them with liquid soap, and I joined him in bathing Dusty. Once Dusty was clean, he and I turned our attention to Sport and lathered his smooth, muscular body. Just as we were about to rinse him off, Speed came out and joined us, so we wiped him clean. Then, it was Bull's turn. There was a lot more of him to bathe, so it took all four of us to do it. Finally, Sarge came out and stood under the shower. He looked at the other guys and said to my amazement, 'Just him.' They all backed off and left me to bathe the sergeant. I did so slowly and lovingly. Despite what he had done to me, he still had the hottest, most gorgeous fuckin' body I had ever laid eyes on. As I lathered his body, I felt the contours of every muscle and the texture of every hair. After I had thoroughly cleaned and rinsed him off, I knelt down and licked his feet. Then, as I had done before, I licked all the way up each leg. He spread them wide, inviting me to lick under his balls. I took each nut in my mouth one at a time and rolled it around in my mouth. I licked the entire circumference of his penis and swallowed it deep down my throat. I licked the dense pubic thicket around his cock and every hair from there to his neck. I lingered over his nipples, licking and sucking, licking and sucking. I lapped feverishly at his armpits, wishing that I could once again taste his manly sweat. By the time I reached his ear lobes, he pushed me away, but not completely. He continued to grip my shoulders. I was hoping that he would pull me into his embrace, but that was not to be. He pressed me back down on my knees, firmly, but not roughly. I again swirled his nuts in my mouth and licked and sucked his dick. He placed his hands around the back of my head and pulled me deeper, pumping his pelvis in rhythm. Yes, he was fucking my face, but again firmly, not roughly. When he came, he pulled my head closer, but it was more like the embrace of a satisfied lover than a brute.

He held me close for several minutes before looking over to his boys and simply nodding. They rejoined us under the shower, and together we bathed him and rinsed him off again. Through the entire process, no words were spoken. There were only moans of pleasure. 'Mmm, mmm, mmm.' They were all wiped out, but the shower episode had aroused me once again, and, of course, Bull could raise the flag at the drop of a helmet. Sarge spread his arms and pushed his troops back.

'It looks like we're not quite done with him,' he said. 'Who wants to volunteer for this mission?' There was a long pause, which did not surprise me because I did not expect anyone to step forward at that point. If anything, I figured the sergeant would assign the private to the task. Much to my amazement, though, Dusty boldly volunteered. 'I'll do it, Sarge. I'll do it for the platoon.' Maybe he was emboldened by the passionate kisses that Speed and I had planted on him, or maybe he was just curious, I dunno.

'Good man,' commended the sergeant, 'Good man.' And so, Dusty pressed my back against the cabin, knelt down, and took my meat into his mouth. He lacked Sport's technique, but considering that he had probably never sucked dick before, he didn't do too badly. As he worked up and down my shaft, the others gathered around and cheered him on, not in the crude way that they had done before, but more like a coach would encourage an athlete to pump five additional pounds of iron. The expression on Speed's face seemed different from the others, though. Could it be the look of envy? Periodically, one of the men would lay a hand on Dusty's shoulder to inspire him to greater heights. There was no doubt about it. These men had a camaraderie that was unparalleled.

When I warned that I was about to come, Dusty pulled back and started pumping my shaft with his hand. I guess he just wasn't ready to experience a man's cum in his mouth yet. Given the way he jacked me off, though, I could not object. He alternated between long, hard strokes and vigorous twisting motions that drove me wild. When I finally came, the first stream flew right over his shoulder, and most of the rest landed on his hand, arm, and chest. When all was done, he just looked up at me and smiled, signaling that he was grateful for the opportunity I had given him to learn what it meant to really please another man. After he had washed and rinsed the fresh cum off of himself, he turned his attention back to me. With the other men looking on, he tenderly bathed my dick and balls, continuing to caress them even after he had rinsed them off.

'OK, boys, time to go,' announced the sergeant after a respectable interval.' The corporal and private and I have to get back to the base and finish packing up before we ship out tomorrow. You boys have to be going too, don't you,' he said to Speed and Dusty. It was more of a command than a question, and they knew it.

'Yeah, Sarge, we gotta go too.'

'All right then. Tie him back up, and let's get the hell out of here.'

'What the fuck!' I cried. 'After all that I've been through the past two days, you're just gonna tie me up and leave me out here to rot? I could die before anyone could find me.'

'Oh, relax, bitch. I'll send the private over in the morning to set you free. Now, just get a good night's sleep, and you'll be fine.'

I continued to protest as the sergeant's men tied me up and then got dressed, but they just ignored me and exchanged trivialities about the weather, sports, and the imminent opening of hunting season.

~~

[wisteria-cherry]

forty days and forty nights (day twenty-five!)

“welcome!” you chime.

“fake-ass customer service voice.” bakugo snorted.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know what you mean, sir,” you chirp, trying to hide your snickering. “what would you like today?”

“hot caramel latte with skim instead of whole. extra froth made with half-and-half instead of milk, and add hazelnut syrup, and those weird-ass chocolate shavings,” bakugo began to rattle off an annoyingly long order. this continued until you finally relented.

“okay, okay!” you laugh. “can i suggest a medium black coffee instead?”

“can’t believe people actually drink that shit.” bakugo grunted, immediately reverting to his regular self. “too much damn sugar.”

“and black coffee’s way too bitter. it cancels out.” you shrug as he swipes his card.

“you work at a coffee shop and you don’t like coffee?” bakugo raised an eyebrow. “the fuck’s up with you?”

“i do like coffee.” you correct. “just with stuff in it. besides, not everyone feels the need to have the body of a greek god at all given times, so they can afford to have some sugar once in awhile.”

“i don’t ‘feel the need’ to maintain my damn physique and have a healthy lifestyle, brat.” bakugo grunted as he sat down. “it’s called being a hero. gotta stay in shape.”

“wasn’t there that one hero though—“ your face scrunched up as you tried to think of his name. “fat gum?”

“that’s different, that was part of his quirk.” bakugo scoffed. “shitty hair interned with him during ua.”

“did he really? that’s so cool!” you marvel. “did you do an internship?”

“yeah, with icyhot’s old man.”

“and his dad is endeavor, right?”

“yeah.”

“how was it? did you do it with anyone else?”

“one question at a time, geez!” bakugo barked. “it was fine, i did it with deku and icyhot.”

“deku and shoto? but i thought you hate deku.”

“i do.” bakugo grumbled. “but there’s no way in hell i’d let him prevent me from interning with the strongest hero i could.”

“well, i’m sure shoto enjoyed it. i bet it was fun doing the internship with his dad.” you smile.

“he didn’t. he hates his old man.” he replied nonchalantly as he sipped at his coffee.

“he does?” you blink. “why?” bakugo shrugged.

“i don’t fuckin’ know. s’not my business anyway.”

“oh.” you fell quiet before deciding to change the subject. “how’s hiro today?”

“‘s’fine.” bakugo raised his eyebrows at your expression as you stared at him, clearly implying that you want him to elaborate. “…he did a patrol today. beat a villain.” you smile. that’s what you were hoping to hear.

“tell me about it.” bakugo only shrugged.

“nothin’ to tell. he encountered a villain, did his thing and beat ‘im.”

“what’s ‘his thing’?” you ask curiously.

“he’s got a pattern to his fights.” bakugo took a big gulp of his coffee. “he dodges for a bit. he uses the time to let people evacuate in case he wrecks something while fighting and to track down the villain’s weakness. then he exploits it. that’s it.”

“that’s incredible.”

“duh. there’s a reason he works f’r’me.” bakugo rolled his eyes.

“you’ve got high standards, then.” you smile.

“no shit.” bakugo snorted.

“do the high standards apply to your love life, too?” you joke.

“you wish.” he scoffed.

“do you even have a love life?” you squint teasingly.

“obviously!” snapped bakugo. you hold up your hands in surrender. bakugo checked his watch. “i gotta run.” he set his finished coffee down and stood up, rolling his shoulders as he stretched, showing off the aforementioned god-like physique. he began to leave.

“hey, wait, bakugo!” you call. he turned, and you grin. “you got a special someone?”

“you wish.” bakugo smirked and left. you froze. that smirk was different than all the other ones. it was more cocky. it was more toothy.

it was hot, and it was official: you like bakugo.

“do you even have a love life?”

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts :)

(he lied he does not have a love life)

@k0z3me @cherryblossomclarity @stevenknightmarc @failingstudents-blog @jazzafaye5294

[kolibripilled-canine]

THIS REST WAS EARNED

"Good morning Sister-231 Catherine" said Sister Eirnan as she sat down across the dining table from the hollow looking girl, "how are you settling in?"

Sister-231 Catherine didn't answer, nor did she take a bite from the plate of eggs, toast, and turkey bacon that sat before her. All the other girls had finished their breakfast almost half an hour ago, and Sister-231 Catherine was the only one left in the dining room.

Sister Eirnan sighed and stood up. Some of the retirees took longer than others to adapt to their new lives out of the service, and Sister-231 Catherine hadn't eaten a bite since she finished the ration pack she'd arrived with on the truck five days ago. It was time to try another tack.

"Sister-231 Catherine," she barked in clipped military patois, "you have lost 7 kilos since you arrived to this duty post! Eat your damn breakfast or I'll take take you off the duty roster so fast your fuckin head'll spin for the next three weeks! Do you understand?"

"Yes sir!" Sister-231 Catherine shouted in the strongest voice her hunger weakened body could muster, and she began to eat. She nibbled cautiously on her slice of toast, then moved onto the eggs. By the time she finished the eggs she was shoveling them into her mouth with gusto.

Sister Eirnan hated to speak to her retirees this way, it wasn't at all conducive to their recovery, but neither was ration starvation. This was probably the first time in three years that Sister-231 Catherine had eaten real food instead of ration paste, and Sister Eirnan took the opportunity to go into the hall to fetch a bucket.

She got back just in time, and shoved the bucket under Sister-231 Catherine's chin barely a second before the poor girl vomited up her breakfast. Sister Eirnan patted her on the back.

"There there, let it all out," she cooed softly, "You're okay, sweetie. You did well. It's hard at first."

Sister-231 Catherine stopped heaving, and Sister Eirnan wiped her mouth with a handkerchief she pulled from her pocket.

"I want to try again" said Sister-231 Catherine in her shakey voice, and Sister Eirnan smiled. She looked up, up at the symbol emblazoned on the cieling. The same symbol that was on the handkerchief she'd just tossed into the bucket: a fallen mech, its guns broken, its cockpit cracked open, birthing its pilot into a circle of women kneeling in benediction. Around this image was text, written in gold filagree; "THIS REST WAS EARNED".

A tear welled up in Sister Eirnan's eye. The girl would make it yet.

"Of course, honey. Let me make you another plate."

[highcaliberstupidity]

Whumptober Day 1 Cracked Brain Pans

Rating Mature CW's/Tags Major Character Injuries, concussions, broken bones, being partially buried, open ending, Ghoap if you really really squint Characters John 'Soap' MacTavish, Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Johnathan Price Summary

"-Op, I repeat, what is your condition?" What was his condition? Wrenching his arm free of the debris, he wraps weak fingers around his radio, clearing his throat with a rattling cough. "Alive, sir." He manages, letting his head fall back against the sheetrock.

Soap doesn't miss things, not usually anyway. 

Because missing things in his line of work is deadly . 

But, Soap is also human, unfortunately. 

Going on 72 hours of five-second naps doesn't help either. His reaction time is buggered and he knows it, but the others are just as bad off. 

Ghost on overwatch, running on caffeine pouches and disgusting mouthfuls of bitter MRE coffee grounds while the breaching squad relied on adrenaline and stims. 

It sucked, and they'd all crash hard when it was over. 

But all Soap could currently think about was getting out from underneath the door frame he was currently trapped under. He's not even sure how long he lays there, dazed and confused as pain splits his skull and he fights off waves of nausea and exhaustion.

It would be so easy, to give in to the crushing wave of black that keeps pushing on his eyelids, to just sleep , just for a moment. 

But he can distantly hear Price shouting his name, somehow both muffled and ear-splitting all at once. 

"-Op, I repeat, what is your condition?!" 

What was his condition?

Wrenching his arm free of the debris, he wraps weak fingers around his radio, clearing his throat with a rattling cough. 

"Alive, sir." He manages, letting his head fall back against the sheetrock. 

"Sitrep Sergeant." Ghosts haggard voice crackles in his ears, and Soap groans as he forces himself to lift his head again and take stock of himself. 

His left arm was pinned under himself, the shoulder on fire while his fingers remained stubbornly numb. Dislocated, could be worse. His spine was twisted at an odd, and not comfortable angle, but it didn’t feel broken. When he tried, his toes wiggled, which meant he still had legs and confirmed his spine was intact.  

All in all, alive, but more than a little fucked. 

"Yellow." Usually, tags were left by medics, but Soap and everyone else on the 141 understood them enough to understand the gravity of the situation. 

He was stable but in a bad way. 

"Left arms pinned, pretty sure my shoulders dislocated. Definitely got a broken rib or two, and I'm half-buried. Damn trip wires." He hisses, wincing as each breath puts pressure on everything . 

"Hold fast Soap, we're coming to you." It's Price again, and Soap scrambles to get his fingers on the radio again. 

"Negative, get that fuckin intel first, Sir." He barked, knowing he'd have hell to pay for that. "I'm solid here, no one's gonna come and look for me if you and Gaz are still on base. You said it yourself, we can't fuck this mission." 

Silence falls for a minute, and all Soap can hear is the creaking of rubble and his own pained breathing. 

"...Copy, but if the situation changes, you say something. Understood?" Price's voice is tight, and Soap can already see the expression on his face. 

"Rog, make it snappy, aye?" He quips, before dropping his hand and letting himself go limp for just a moment. 

He knows he needs to stay awake, knows he needs to start trying to free himself. 

But fuck, all he wants to do is fucking sleep . 

-

He doesn't even realize he's passed out until he hears shouting, feels the weight on his ribs finally lift . 

He takes in a sharp gasp of air, eyes fluttering open as he takes in the first full breath of air he's had in hours . And then the pain hits, broken ribs screaming from the pressure of his lungs as he curls into himself. 

"Soap, hold still son, hold still." Price's voice floats into his ears, and he can hear him and Gaz going back and forth over his head as agony runs like fire in his veins. 

He opens his eyes when he feels a tap on his cheek, Gaz's face swimming into view. 

"Come on, keep those pretty blues open MacTavish. How many fingers?" He sees his hand move, watches as it distorts, and watches it move three more times before his stomach clenches, and he has to shut his eyes again. 

"Can't. F-fuck, gonna be sick if I open my eyes again." He groans, feeling more debris being displaced around him as Price continues to dig him free. 

"Major concussion then, dislocated arm, definitely broken some ribs. Anything else feel broken?" 

He shakes his head, only to bite down on his own tongue as he nearly hurls again. "Na, t-think I'm okay. Just fuckin knackered." He grumbles, feels hands roaming over his body, poking, prodding, testing. 

"Sorry mate, no rest for you until we get you to med. Now hold fast, this is gonna hurt." And fuck, hurt it fucking does. Together Gaz and Price heft him up, firm hands guiding him up until he's propped with his good arm thrown over Price's shoulders. 

His Captain slings an arm around him, and he looks thunderous . Soap's definitely going to get the reaming of his life when medicals finally done with him. 

But Price doesn't say anything to him, instead gripping his radio as he hugs him close to his side. Gaz takes point and begins to lead them down the hall towards their rendezvous point. 

"Watcher, intel and Bravo 7-1 secured, he's alive but needs immediate medical attention. Ghost, move for the rendezvous, we're heading out." 

"Roger, on the move." Ghost responds, and he sounds relieved . Soap tries not to feel too warm about that.

"Bravo, exfil is five mics out. Advise you haul ass." The pilots voice crackles in their ears, and Soap can feel his eyelids drooping. 

He knows he has to stay awake, that sleeping with a concussion can kill him.

But as Price hauls him across the empty compound courtyard and towards the green smoke of exfil, he thinks a nap might not be so bad. 

He hears several voices yelling at him to stay awake, a growling staticky threat in his ear from Ghost, as his steps falter and his feet begin to drag. 

"Mmmm, just a mo, m' solid." He slurs, and Price's arm around his middle squeezes. 

"Almost to the helo son, keep your fucking eyes open, that is an order ." His Captain growls, and Soap tries, he really, really does. 

But as his boots scrape against metal and a second set of hands reaches out to maneuver him with gruff instructions, he can feel his grip on reality slipping from his hold like grains of sand. 

The last thing he hears is his name, from Ghost's mouth, as he's being laid out on the cold, vibrating metal floor of the exfil helo.

[seokjinnieswife007]

I was fiiiiiiiiine before.

Like I was fine *F I N E* with all my singlehood my alone since birth , my dryer than desert life.

I was F. I. N. E. OKAY!!????.

BUT THEN THIS MF SNEAKED INTO MY LIFE.

This man got me feeling every emotion I've ever conserved in my body

He makes me feel all giddy

He lets my uwus burst into COMBUST

His cuteness is a menace to the society, specially

my heart

my life

my whole.

fuckin.

existence.

Like Boy can turn your sane ass into a tomato 🍅

His flirting game is so FUCKIN on point he has such grips on bitches like ppl are actually dreaming of getting railed by you sir

Boy can eat you ALIVE. W/O even laying a finger on you.

Also Boy can make you so sad and that sad will be THAT LEVEL SAD which will actually make you wanna do murders on characters that aren't even R E A L

Sir..

because of you..

*sighs then screams*

my jaw drops to floor eyes pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets heart beats out of chest awooga awooga sound affect pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out slams fists on table rattling any plates bowls or silverware whistles loudly fireworks shoot from top of head pants loudly as tongue hangs out of mouth wipes comically large bead of sweat from head clears throat straightens tie combs hair, ahem, you look very lovely making me doing shit like GRR BARK BARK WOOF WOOF ARF BARK BARK WOOF ARF ARF WOOF WOOF GRRR BARK GRR BARK BARK WOOF WOOF ARF BARK BARK WOOF ARF ARF WOOF WOOF GRRR BARK GRR BARK BARK WOOF WOOF ARF BARK BARK WOOF ARF ARF...

*Takes a deep breath*

I'm fine I'm fine ...

Duan jiaxu you ....

*Sobs intensively*

[marblemoovt]

Simon Says Drabble - Simon Riley/Reader

Just a little smut drabble I wrote for another blog that couldn't be posted. I do plan on fleshing this out one day. I'll probably link this in my masterlist and replace it with the full thing once that's complete

Note: This is an afab reader, but is otherwise gender-neutral

----

"Simon says turn around and get on all fours," Ghost commands. It's short and to the point. You were joking about this earlier, passing it off as another dumb idea. But now you're crawling in front of him like a bitch in heat, ass bare and wriggling in the air. His hands glide across your back. "Now spread." Out of pure instinct, your legs part, exposing your dripping cunt. "Fuck me, sweetheart. You love this," he groans, admiring the glistening of your skin like a  predator waiting to strike.

Crack. 

His wrist snaps and smarts your ass. A sharp pain blooms and tears sting the corner of your eyes. "Did I say Simon says?" he asks, although you both already know the answer. You shake your head, earning another smack on your bottom. "You've got a tongue, haven't you? Use it," he barks.

"No, sir," you force the words from your throat. Your skin tingles, throbs, and translates the pain into pleasure that clouds your mind. You can't see him, your face resting against the sheets to support the arch of your back. But fuck, you'd be lying if you said his voice didn't do things to you.

"No, no I fuckin' didn't." Rough fingertips brush against your tender skin. He chuckles when you push into his touch, a gentle caress from his thumb before he withdraws his hand. "Looks like I need to teach you how to play the game again, pet." Your heartbeat hammers in your throat. You know that tone. The last time he used it, you came until you were delirious with pleasure. 

Warm hands trace around your cunt, and hums, low and sinful. "I could rearrange your insides, rail you into the mattress--but you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He runs a finger through your folds, stopping right before your clit. You whine and push back, aching for more friction. He chuckles, and every nerve in your body tingles. This man is about to ruin you.

Ghost walks away and leaves you trembling on the bed. He returns, and a low buzz fills your ears. "Let's see, can you wait until I say Simon says?"

You're really in for it now.

[justafoxhound]

WIP whenever

tagged by @dirty-bosmer to share a wip🤗

Today I was inspired by my current fo3 game where i've hired jericho. What if Talia hired him to help her make the trip to Tenpenny Tower?(Honestly i feels like this could be a major edit to Atomic Smitten..!)

tagging @jentucker (you wanted this!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kid, I didn’t sign on with you to play fuckin’ Santa Claus out here.”

Talia could feel the eyes on her back as she stormed ahead of her companion, leaving the thirsty beggar in the humming Megaton dirt.

“You pull any of that shit again and I’m gone.”

Talia stopped in her tracks and turned about to face the man yelling after her. “Excuse me?”

“You fuckin’ heard me,” he barked, jabbing the air with the bottle of purified water he’d just yanked from the beggar’s grasp. “In fact, if you’re gonna make me repeat myself like you’re some fuckin’ moron, I’m outta here as well.”

Talia blinked in astonishment. “I- Jesus Christ, are you for real? I paid you didn’t I? You’re gonna bail over a sip of water?”

His permanent scowl grew harsher. “Listen, you stuck up Vault bitch. You only paid me half. You fuck around givin’ away useful stuff like this, waste my time, bore me, and I’ll take my half back to Moriarty’s right fuckin’ now. Got no problem getting drunk instead of babysittin’ you.”

Talia’s stomach lurched. “You’ll get your other half. I promised, didn’t I? Jericho, come on.” She urged him to continue with her away from town. She couldn’t make this trip alone. At least not now she’d given him every cap she had after begging Mr. Burke for an advance on the pay he promised on completion of his request. “The caps are yours, but we have to get to Tenpenny Tower to get paid.”

Jericho glared from a few paces away. “And if this turns out to be a fuckin’ merry-go-round? Whole thing’s fucked up. I hope you’ll still be feelin’ so charitable if we find out there’s nobody up there, ‘cause I’m gonna be real pissed.”

Talia stifled a shiver. This was almost definitely not a good idea. Maybe she could have taken her chances alone. But it was too late now. Plus, she’d seen the claw marks on one of the town’s brahmin. Not all of the Vault stories about mutants were exaggeration. “No, sir,” she declared. “There’s plenty of people there. And when I say this guy is expecting us, we’ll get straight in, I swear.” I hope.

Jericho sniffed and took a noisy swig from the water bottle. “Yeah? This guy, Burke, he for real?”

Talia nodded profusely. “He had five hundred caps in his pocket to give me. And he’s from Tenpenny Tower so surely he’s good for it, and he wants the job done.” She put up a convincing argument, partly to assure herself too. The well dressed visitor had offered her one thousand caps for a simple, if extreme, job. She wasn’t sure it wasn’t just his strange idea of a sick joke. People on the surface were different, and he wasn’t like anybody she’d encountered in this town.

Jericho seemed to finish his thought, losing the animal intensity that had briefly sharpened his gaze. “Yeah, I seen him around. Had plenty to spend around town every day. Alright, let’s get goin’ before I change my mind.”

Talia nodded and hurried to match her mercenary’s quick pace, albeit keeping well out of arm’s reach. The old, grizzled, wasteland tough guy hadn’t given her a second glance in Moriarty’s saloon. But she wondered if he hadn’t heard some of her conversation with Mr. Burke, because as soon as she approached him about work escorting her across the wasteland he’d hit her pretty quick with a steep price of exactly one thousand caps. He’d seemed pretty surprised when she actually ponied up half that.

She breathed a little easier once he’d walked more than a minute without complaining. She didn't doubt he’d walk away with her caps and leave her in more of a mess than she already was, so she resolved to try to keep quiet and just get to the tower. But if she had to coddle him to keep him happy, she would. She’d pinned all hope of living beyond a week on Mr. Burke’s outrageous offer, couldn’t back out, and she had to reach him first. He held all the baskets, and she only had one egg, and she’d given it to Jericho.

“The fuck you givin’ this away here for anyway? Won’t do him any good.” Jericho interrupted her thoughts, brandishing the water bottle.

“I was just gonna give him a sip. I thought I was gonna die of thirst when I got out the Vault.”

He sniffed. “I don’t get it.”

She didn’t try to explain. “Can I have it please?”

He tossed a glance her way. “No. Not to waste it on dead men.”

“I’m thirsty. Anyway, I swiped it from Moriarty fair and square.”

“No shit? I thought this was Vault water. That fucker holds all the best stuff back. What was he chargin’?”

“Um, like, thirty caps?”

Jericho snorted. “Man, robbery without gettin’ off your ass. He don’t bother get his hands dirty. It’s gotta get boring though, if you ask me. You get anything stronger?”

Talia shook her head uncertainly, mumbling an apology.

“Shit.” Jericho tossed the water her way. “First bottle of booze you see is mine.”

She agreed, muffling her sigh of relief at catching the water without stumbling. It was going to be a long walk.

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

Teach

@modelmemoirs

When you call Prince's mother Kelendria for the umpteenth time, it's for your records since Ms. Girl is so tough to reach.

She'd made a point to tell you at the start of the year she was "elbow deep in guts around the saving lives so between 8 and 3 he is your problem." The word Bitch sat on the tip of your tongue but you bit it for the sake of your job, your class, and the 5'5 pubescent terror known as Prince Stevens.

"Who's this?"

"Mr. Stevens. This is Ms. Y/N from Medgar Middle, Prince's teacher."

"Call Kelendria."

"I'M CALLIN YOU," you rush. "We need to discuss Prince's behavior before it gets too bad."

"Behavior? ..He acting up in class?"

"Yes! I need you to meet me at the school to discuss solutions. When is good for you?" Your pen clicks to record that you spoke with him because you're sick of parental bullshit and they need to be responsible for their kids.

"3:15 tomorrow, I gotta take leave. Keep him there for me."

"BRING ACETONE!"

You roll your eyes leaving behind your empty classroom and the dick drawn on Prince's desk. Tomorrow is the day it gets dealt with.

The next day is math drills. Review, review, review. You deal with the average middle school angst, self discovery, and choas. Girls drowning you in a mix of Bath & Body Works that still won't combat the underarm funk in the room and hallways. You put 10 problems on the board and call 10 kids to solve them, Prince as #10. Just as expected.. his lil smart ass refuses to participate.

"When we gonna use this?"

"Sometimes you gotta do work and not ask a thousand questions or you lose time and money," you sigh since he wanna get real. "You also need it to pass my class."

"It's bullshit."

"Language! Don't make me tell you again, Prince you tapdancing on my last nerve."

"When is David gonna use this," he points, "when he's working at Burger King? McDonald's makes you factor fuckin equations now?"

"Strike 2, you can have an opinion but you won't disrepect me or this class. I will kick you out if you continue or you can go up to the board and solve for #10."

"Relax, you make 35,000 and that's probably generous."

"Office. Now. I'll get with you later."

The dick on the desk, the smart ass comments, refusal to participate, disrespecting his peers has got to stop.

"Fine, by the way Jackson you moved the 2 and you should've moved the 2x, you're supposed to isolate the variable. You know, get it to one side? ...Dumbass."

"OFFICE."

"Enjoy your village of idiots."

3:00 doesn't come soon enough. Prince tries to barrel by you and leave with his classmates but he's got detention and he's picked the right one to push. Y'all bout the same height, kid where.

"SITYOASSDOWN," a militant voice barks from behind you nearly sending you to God early. Prince rolls his eyes but you notice he sits his ass down quickly. "Put your hands on your teacher again you gone have to fight me and I'm a knock the teeth out your mouth. You hear me? Boy don't-"

"Yes sir," Prince sighs from his desk. You move to the side to let his fine ass father in and he points to the grafiti dick.

"You do that? ..That was a question."

"That's why I asked for acetone," you say when Prince shuts down nonresponsive. "That's been on the desk now for 2 days."

"Get up. Take this," Mr. Stevens orders his son who does it without lip. "Clean it up. And this classroom. I'm a deal with you later, but I'm a talk to your teacher."

You lead him to the hall and share all that's been going on, including your inability to reach his mama. They're split apparently and Kelendria has been putting all her anger into working. Some of that anger fell to Prince causing him to take it out on you and his classmates.

"We both work full-time, but you can call me going forward. Here's my cell phone," he recites the number as you plug it in and save it wondering if he always looks at people like this. Those smiling eyes like he's only got eyes for you in that very moment.

If he wasn't still married to Prince's mama.. No, not even then, he's still a parent of one of her students..

Still he is 90s fine, that fine that's hard to come by.

"Aside from his behavior, Prince is really smart for someone his age. I think he's bored in class. That could also be a reason for his impatience.. I've been giving him 10th grade math assignments to keep him busy but he's finishing that quickly too now."

"You saying I should skip him?"

"Well the school doesn't initiate any of those processes but if you were interested, I'd say it's an option."

"Okay," he nods taking it in, "Well I'm free some days after 5. I'd like to meet you somewhere for dinner, my treat, that way we can discuss it further."

"Oh excellent," you smirk feeling like it might be a sign. If Prince ain't your student you can flirt with his daddy.. but then again when would you ever see his daddy... DILEMMA.

"Ok let's make it soon, this week."

"Tomorrow."

He smiles. "Perfect.. You know, I might have to go a lil easy on the kid if acting up means we get to meet like this." He moves to look in the classroom finding it clean with Prince still scrubbing at the desk having gotten most of the marker off. "Finish that and let's go!"