Pt2/finale Traitor!tf141 Au

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬

𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚡 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚢: 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

After servicing the SAS for around 30 years it was finally time to retire and enjoy the time spent by the people you always protected. The Task Force 141, created by Price, was now led by Gaz and Soap after you and Ghost decided to retire as well following the old man, or rather “father”, that retired to spend time with Nik. After 2 years, you and Ghost reached the age of 55 and it was now time to put the guns away.

You and him still wanted to be in the frenetic life of constant alertness and the adrenaline rushing through your veins but after an incident that left you having to walk with a cane (you were not fully disabled, you just needed support, not always, your knee sometimes gave painful troubles. The problem, most of the time, was solved by wearing a medical device, a knee brace) and him to manifest phantom pains with constant migraines, the time to give up was finally here. After being discharged with honor and with badges of recognition, saying goodbye to Johnny and Kyle and making sure that these two would be able to lead the future of the task force, you two left the SAS forever.

Before leaving, a decision was made. During dull times when there was nothing to do, you and Simon discussed possible houses and flats to live in after retirement, these conversations started way before the deadline and sometimes it would end up with the two of you not having emitted the final verdict. You always wanted to visit Manchester and maybe live in it too as Simon always described it as an "ok" city. Eventually, an apartment was found and it was quite cozy too. It had a wall window (not fully glass) that was facing the west giving the possibility to gaze at the setting sun, it had an elevator too as you needed it. It took some time to get adjusted. It was a sort of challenge itself to buy the furniture as you and Simon had different tastes that were difficult to mix together and the fact that it was a struggle to arrange everything, but eventually your new house was done and was full of memories too.

The small table and the walls around the TV were full with photos of vacations as well as after missions times with your friends: the time in Las Almas, with Alejandro and Rudy, then there were Farah and Alex with Nikolai too. Other photos showed vacation trips with the whole 141 and your outer friends too. In the more intimate and more secured side, the medals achieved over time by you and Simon stood neat and clean, in the studio, in their cases showing the best of the best.

You two where 50 and still in great physical form despite your respective pains, you were accepted to work as a personal guard to assist the CEO of a very advanced High-tech company that helped in the reaserch in many fields…..it did pay very well….while Simon, who liked more quiet places was hired as an intelligence specialist where his tactical skills were put to use, formuling plans or mapping the perimeters, when squads of police or other special forces had to get their hands dirty. At the end of the day, when you both were home, you two got to spend the evenings on the couch watching some football or play matches in Call of Duty making some people rage quit since they couldn’t compete with veterans.

Sleeping was a challenge though, Simon had chronic pains over his whole body and sometimes the treatments were not really effective, he ended up waking up in the middle of the night with pains in his legs or arms (trust me they are unbearable. I say this as someone who sometimes has their legs and foot-fingers blocked for the amount of pain) that makes him become restless. Lucky for him you are there as you try and stop everything with a massage. To say thank you, he lets you sleep on his torso and wraps you around his arms if they don’t hurt and you do the same, giving him a small and content smile. If you are the one waking up with knee pains, he makes sure to try and make it lessen by applying some pain relief ointment.

Mornings are spent lazily if none of you have to work, usually you wake up with him being the big spoon while he had his head on your pillow, other times he wakes up with you on top of him with your arms sprawled on the bed. He rolls around, waking you up in the process, and giving you light kisses on your forehead and temples while caressing your exposed tummy, warm light usually fills the room finding its way to your exposed torsos filled with scars of all types, symbols of your endurance and courage.

As time passed white hair did begin to appear on your scalp and Simon noticed it while washing your hair in the bathtub.

‘’Pup, you have some white hair here and there…’’ he spoke as he massaged your scalp and cheek bones.

‘’Ah-…sigh’’

‘’Don’t worry about it, they look good on you’’ he smiled.

‘’Don’t joke about it, since you have some on your eyebrows too!’’

And so days were spent like this. You two were finally taking back the time ripped away from your work duty, callused hands traced the necks of one-another and scarred faces expressed the most sincere of feelings repressed by the ruthless requirements of the war world. Sometimes, the little things done with the heart, each day…are the ones that matter the most.

CALL OF THE SEA / PART ONE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, death (minor characters), bits of gore, 141 are mean pirates, kidnapping

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The village was tranquil as you stepped through it, bare feet threading through the soft grass, hands wrapped around the handle of a woven basket. It was peaceful, as it always was, without the souls of townsfolk to burden you. They didn’t dare bother you with the witness of elders around, keeping any torment to themselves until nightfall when the small vendor shops had closed up for the evening and the old folk returned to their homes.

You basked in the warm summer rays that shined down on you as you walked past the various shops. Really, they were far from any real shops, only showcasing simple merchant carts with limited supply for the village to gather, but it was a small village, and everything you needed was for mere survival. You weren’t a greedy woman, and you were plenty grateful.

Stepping up to one of the merchants, you offered a polite smile to the older woman sitting behind it, bowing your head in greeting.

“Hello, Mary,” you addressed, and she perked up from where she stood, occupied with counting together the sum of coins she’d earned throughout the day. She reflected her own smile to you, standing a bit taller. A wrinkled hand lifted to brush strands of her gray hair that had blown astray in the light breeze, revealing her radiance.

“Afternoon, dove,” she greeted in return. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Just need a few more herbs, is all,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away from hers to pick around her cart. Mary always had plenty on hand, and usually snuck you a few extras when you weren’t looking.

“Ah, I see. Well, you know the routine, dove. Feel free to pick as many as you need,” she encouraged. You smiled graciously, collecting a small variety of herbs and plants to place in your basket.

It was a different decision every week, seeing as you often performed trial and error with them in the comfort of your home. Despite many in your village disagreeing with your efforts, you were attempting to learn more about medicines. The village was in desperate need of a proper healer, and a female one at that. The male in current practice was much too biased and reckless, though you were sure to get a mouthful if you were to express the concern.

So, you took it upon yourself. Living in the village rather than out on the mainland, it wasn’t a simple teaching. Resources and education were much more difficult to come by, and it wasn’t deemed necessary information for women to have. It was exactly the reason why you were seen as a bit of an enigmatic outcast to all – all except Mary, of course. Perhaps she simply pitied you.

“This will be all for me, Mary,” you declared, setting the basket on top of her cart. Reaching for the small pouch that rested comfortably on your hip, you dug through it, collecting a few bronze coins and setting them in the old woman’s frail hand.

Mary accepted, placing the coins in her own pouch and throwing you a kind smile. “You sure, dove? Nothing else I can do for you?”

“I’m sure,” you confirmed with a nod. “Still in the experimentation phase, I fear.”

“You’ll get there,” she assured, clasping one of your hands between both of hers and giving it an encouraging shake before releasing. “Perhaps I’ll come visit you one of these days. An old lady like myself could use a few tweaks.”

This elicited a light laugh from you, shaking your head as you grasped the basket. “You look as healthy as a babe, Mary. But yes, please do. You know my door is always open for you.”

The two of you said your sweet farewells before you set off down the grassy trail once again. You passed the other merchants, who didn’t welcome you with the same kindness Mary had, but didn’t scare you away with shrewdness either. It was a typical routine, at this point, for others to look down on you. A woman, unwilling to marry and bear children and instead, studying medicine. A true scandal, some might say.

The walk back to your home was done so without issue, but when your humble abode came into sight, tucked away on the farther side of the village for more private practice, the faces of recognizable men came into view. This was just as frequent as the judgeful side eyes you received, but much more inconvenient.

“Afternoon, dove,” one of the men greeted with a slimy smile, the nickname the village had given you slipping off of his tongue like rotted poison. Dove, a name of something so beautiful, given out of mere pettiness. You were free like a bird, yet you should’ve been confined to your cage. Something pretty to look at, but proving no use. “Never quite got back to me about my courtship.”

Right. You had ignored it on purpose. Though deemed as strange and grotesque by the townspeople, this particular man hadn’t quite gotten the hint. Lucius was his name, fitting, seeing as he was as close to the devil as they came. Conceited and boastful with no decency of leaving you be.

He was awfully determined in wanting to fix you, to make you the housewife everybody expected you to be, just like the other village women. It was common practice, seeing as women didn’t do much other than simply that. While some were quite content with that lifestyle, you sought out more. You didn’t want to be chained down to a simple man who had nothing but arrogance to offer, nor a man you weren’t in love with.

“Yes, that’s quite right,” you confirmed dryly, stepping up to your home. He blocked the doorway, barricading you from entering.

“It’s quite rude for a lady to reject,” he interjected, a devilish smile plastered on his face. You blinked up at him with a look of indifference. “I am only asking for an answer.”

“I believe I’ve told you no plenty of times,” you sighed, adjusting the basket on your hip. “I am simply not interested.”

He sucked his teeth together, glowering down at you from where he stood. It was clear he wasn’t pleased with the answer, but unfortunately for him, it was all he was going to get. You were solid with your decision, and god forbid you did change your mind on being a wife and mother, it would not be with him.

“Can’t change your mind at all, dove?” he asked in fake sweetness, reaching for your hand that wasn’t holding the basket. He took it in his grip, much too tight for your liking. “Perhaps I can help change it if you give me one night.”

You scowled at his underlying tone, pulling your hand from his grasp and resting it on the knob of your door. You pushed it open, stepping inside before turning to him. “Please do not humor me with such indications. I am not interested, nor will I change my mind.”

Abruptly closing the door on him, you settled inside of your home, breathing a low sigh of relief. You could hear his faint chuckles with the other men present, their footsteps soft against the grass as they took their leave. He never took things too far, such as forcing his way into your home or worse, forcing himself on you, but you feared that day may come the longer you rejected his advances.

You set your basket on your desk, slouching down in the old chair you’d spend days upon days occupied in. Your journal sat open with ink scattered on the pages in your scribbled handwriting, brief sketches drawn about of the varying herbs you worked tirelessly on. Above you, jars lined the shelves with fading labels, filled with makeshift medicines of all kinds.

With the village and its people now out of sight and out of mind, you resumed your studies with the fresh herbs, focusing on what your heart truly desired.

You don’t remember falling asleep. It had been hours of you with a pen in your hand, jotting down useful notes for your studies, and it was no surprise you had succumbed to exhaustion at the comfort of your desk. Your cot in the corner of the room was more a stranger than anything, but with the sight of moonlight still pouring in through your small windows, you debated on moving over to it so you could resume.

Standing from your desk, you rubbed the sleepiness crusting over your eyes, a yawn threatening to tug through your throat. Just as you began your short trek to your bed, a slight tinge of orange caught your eye, peeking in through your window. It was faint, barely knowledgeable.

Curiosity got the best of you, and through your hazy state, you tugged open the front door of your small cottage, daring to see what was outside. The orange grew brighter in view now that the door opening had allowed more light to pool in, and when you rubbed at your eyes once more, you recognized it as fire.

Fire, burning fiercely in the night, eating away at your village. The sounds of terrified screams and chaotic madness became abundantly clear when you stepped outside. It made your blood run cold. All hairs on your body stood straight in warning, beckoning you to return inside, to hide.

As much as you wanted to listen, the first thing to vacate your mind was Mary. In the brush of flames, you needed to know if she was alright, if she had gotten to safety before the angry fire had broken into her own home. Where most of the townsfolk treated you as a mere joke, Mary was the one who had given you kindness when needed.

Your feet moved in a rush to sprint towards the village, the grass damp from the midnight dew and sticking to your soles. The closer you came towards the heart of the village, the louder things grew. It was blood-curling, hearing booming voices bark various orders while others shouted in petrified fear. Mary’s house was on the other side of the village, and in an act of triumph, you aimed for it.

The heat of the flames became more apparent as you closed in on the town center. Townsfolk that you had grown with since a baby were in a frenzy, some bloodied, some weeping. They looked like they had gone through the pits of hell and crawled their way out, only to be inches away from being dragged back in again.

There was no explanation for why the men of your village were wearing the crimson color of fresh blood, or why some were laying in broken heaps on the ground. They were in agony, shrieking in deafening decibels. The healer in you wanted to stop everything you were doing to aid them, but the child in you wanted to reach Mary first.

You did what your heart wanted and ran for Mary.

Approaching her house, the flames had not yet approached. It wasn’t burned to ash, nor was it in shambles. Instead, one large man had Mary in their hold by each of her arms as she attempted to fight him off while another ransacked her home.

“Mary!” you shouted, helpless. The man’s head whipped in the direction of your voice, cruel eyes narrowing in on you. Mary joined him, fearful eyes catching yours.

The sight of the men was foreign to you, but you’d recognize heartless monsters such as them anywhere. They were mere stories shared between the village, often used to scare the children away from the sea for their own protection. The village was so small, nobody had ever worried about the stories happening to them.

Pirates. Cruel, greedy, malicious. Like dogs off a leash, bearing sharp teeth and frothing at the mouth. They raided innocent villages for their supply, leaving it in disarray once they got what they wanted. Sick bastards who deserved punishment, yet slipped away in the roaring waves of the sea before it could be handed to them.

“Let go of her,” you pleaded with the pirate, hands clasped together. You knew you couldn’t fight him off, even if you tried. Mary was just as powerless as you, and old age was starting to catch up to her. She was fragile, and with the way he was handling her, you feared she’d get harmed.

The mysterious pirate continued to stare at you with an unreadable expression. He grunted in annoyance, loosening his grip on Mary but not quite releasing. It did nothing to comfort you, and that feeling grew tenfold when the other pirate stepped out of Mary’s home, locking in on you.

“Grab tha’ one, will ye, Gaz?” the one holding Mary huffed, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. The other, Gaz, nodded in return, sauntering up to you like death on wheels. You needed to run, to escape, but he was too quick. Before you knew it, Gaz’s arms had wrapped around your waist, hauling you over his shoulder like a doll.

Flailing in his embrace did nothing. His grip was firm, arm locked on to you impossibly tight, and the punches you threw to his back seemed almost comical to him.

“Find anythin’?” the other asked Gaz. Gaz shook his head, releasing a frustrated exhale.

As chaos ensued around you, the two men began dragging you and Mary along towards the heart of the village where you were moments ago. Gaz’s grip loosened on you, before he dropped you to the damp ground carelessly. You landed with a huff, soreness soaring through your back.

Looking around, you realized that many of the townsfolk were in the same condition. Lined up besides one another, pleading for their lives, weeping with ugly snot running from their noses. Mary was beside you, shaken but unharmed from the looks of it. She stared at you with heart wrenching fright, and you wished you could’ve told her things would be okay.

But they weren’t. The village was set ablaze, its people lined up like prisoners with a group of pirates looming over them like reapers prepared for death. The peace from this afternoon had vanished, and there would be no return. Things would be forever different, if they spared your lives.

Gaz and the other pirate stood side by side as they looked over the townsfolk. Another was beside them, face distorted by a ghastly mask that resembled a skull. It sent shivers down your spine. It was as if you truly were looking death in the eye.

A fourth pirate stepped forward, eyes that should’ve been considered kind instead staring down every last villager with heated observation. He was silent as he paced slowly, hands behind his back, the fire casting a doomful glow upon his face.

“My name is Captain Price,” he introduced. His voice was booming with authority. “If you do not wish to aid us, then we do not wish to aid you. The choice is yours.”

Sweat beaded your hairline from both the flames of fire scorching around you, and the anxiety that spiked inside of you. Your eyes locked in on the Captain, watching his every movement, noting the way he stood tall and proud, showcasing the true power he held. The villagers and you were helpless against him and his crew, and he was ensuring that it was obvious.

“We seek a medic. If you cannot provide that to us, then you are of no use to me,” he explained, pausing his pacing. He took in the sight of every grim face. Once he landed on you, you shivered, looking away in a panic. “I will ask you once. Who is your medic?”

Deafening silence filled the air apart from the flickering flames that threatened to consume us whole. Nobody dared to speak a word, nor did they look away from Price. It was as if time had stopped and everybody froze.

Price sniffed, glancing around the villagers. Though he seemed collected in his behavior, you could recognize the impatience from the way his lip twitched and his shoulders tensed.

“The Captain asked you lot a question,” Gaz sneered in defense. Price spared him a glance before returning focus. Still, nobody spoke for the next few moments.

It wasn’t until Price’s hand drifted to his waist, hand coming to rest on a handgun that the air shifted into one of unease. The sight of it made you sick to the stomach. Handguns were a specialty only the wealthy or military could acquire. They were rare and expensive, a luxury to some, but deadly. One click, and your soul was taken right from your body.

Price grasped the handgun, holding it in his hand as if it were a toy. He stepped up to the line of villagers, peering down at them like useless pigs. The sight of the gun had women quivering in fear, tears streaming down their rosy cheeks. The men were men no more, stripped away of their masculinity and replaced with little boys, unable to protect their kin and fulfill their duty as defenders.

The gun was raised, threat building with every inch. The barrel pointed right at the horror-stricken face of the very man who intruded on your home earlier – Lucius. Gone was the cocky mockery of a man, replaced with a whimpering boy who feared death just as much as another. He was shaking, shoulders slouched in attempts to appear small.

“We will try this again,” Price demanded. The cold barrel pressed to the temple of Lucius’ head and you could do nothing but sit and watch, unsure of what to feel. Sure, he kept a sour taste in your mouth simply from being. But to wish death on him for being a hindrance was distasteful. “Who is your medic?”

Lucius wouldn’t possibly rat you out. He was a selfish man who took what he wanted, but surely, he wouldn’t. He wasn’t that cruel.

The coward’s shaky hand lifted to point in your direction. It felt as if he were throwing a sharp dagger at you, the way he exposed the occupation you’d been so meticulously working hard towards.

Eyes shifted towards you, sending an ice cold burst through your veins. They were prodding, dissecting you from head to toe as if you were an experiment for them to test on. It was unsettling, sinking your heart down to the pits of your stomach.

“You’re the medic?” Price questioned. He hadn’t lowered his weapon, keeping it firm against Lucius’ skull, but his attention had shifted to you. His eyes weren’t warm and kind like they were shaped out to be, but rather cold, glossed over with hardened hostility.

“I–” You swallowed. “I am merely a medic in practice. I am not a professional, I do not know proper teachings–”

“Ghost,” he interrupted, whipping his head to look at the masked man. Ghost was a brute of a man, a shadow that would’ve been consumed by the night if not for the illuminating glow coming from the village in flames. “Take her so she can gather her things. She’s coming with us.”

Dread struck you right to the core. You wanted to beg for them to leave you be, to explain that you weren’t what they wanted. You didn’t want to be stripped from your home and tossed onto a ship with no clue of where your next destination was. These men were dangerous, seeping pure rancor and poisoning the very ground you laid on. Leaving with them was a death sentence.

Ghost said nothing, and even if he did, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it from the subtle weeping from villagers beside you. His strides were long as he approached you, and without warning, his rough hand grasped your elbow, hauling you to your feet. The force startled you, throwing you off balance but his grip was tight enough to keep you grounded.

As you were dragged away towards the direction of your home, you could hear an uproar of cries. Terror struck the village once more and you could do nothing but accept fate for what it was. You wanted to turn your head to see what was becoming of your people, but you were scared. Scared of what you may see, scared of what Ghost will do if you look.

You kept your gaze forward, legs moving quickly to match the heavy pace of Ghost, guiding the lion into your den.

Arriving at your home, you were hit with the realization that it would be the last time entering it. Your hard work would vanish, the space you made into your security blanket would be destroyed, burned to ash once the flames settled. It tore your heart to bits.

“Hurry up,” Ghost gruffed, his voice gravelly and hoarse. Just like Price, it was assertive, leaving no room for discussion.

You made haste to pack your essentials into a flimsy satchel. It wouldn’t be able to fit much, and you could only pray they would at least provide you with bare necessities on your voyage to hell. In your satchel went your journal, the cluttered jars of experimental medicines, your favorite quill, and a daring change of clothes. If Ghost thought you to remain alive long enough to have the opportunity to redress, he didn’t express it.

“That all?” he huffed, and when you nodded, he seized your arm again. “Let’s go.”

The sight of your home became a distant memory the farther you went from it. Already your body was pleading to go back, to curl up in bed and pretend that all of this was a sick dream. You regretted not making your cot of more use, sleeping in that damned wooden chair instead.

By the time you arrived back at the town center, it was like witnessing purgatory itself. Bloodshed with the bodies of your people laid across the ground like animals tossed aside. Useless and unworthy, that was how these pirates treated them. Though your people had never been kind to you, this was a fate you would never have wished upon them.

Their faces were unrecognizable as you took them in. Some burned, some beaten so bloody their faces had swelled into ugly monsters, some slain. The sight of the deceased made you want to vomit, bile piling in your throat and threatening to expel out.

Your eyes frantically searched for Mary, aching to know if they had given her mercy. She was a frail woman, withering with her age. She was innocent.

You couldn’t find her familiar face, and you weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or dreadful.

The three other pirates were standing around one another. They were unphased by the actions they had bestowed upon the village, as if it was another simple day. It unnerved you, rattling your bones with burrowing fear. When they noticed the return of you and their crewmate, they wasted no time in guiding you off to the small port in which their ship had been docked.

It was large, wood tainted with brown so dark it could’ve been black. It blended in with the abyss of the sea, which you realized was entirely the point. Unnoticed and concealed.

Ghost didn’t let go of you as he helped you on to the ship, nor did he release once your bare feet connected with the wood. It was just as restricting as before, causing a light pulse to form in your bicep where he held you.

“Take her to the chambers until we figure out the next step,” Price ordered Ghost, nodding his head in the direction of raggedy doors. You could only imagine what lies behind them, waiting for you.

Ghost grunted in response, tugging you with him and having you stumble on your own two feet. The wood was rough and sharp on your soles, slicing tiny splinters into your skin. Shoes weren’t needed in your village unless it was winter, and even then, the grass was always enough to consume them in warmth. Now, you were regretting not owning a pair.

“In you go,” Ghost uttered once he had the door pulled open, shoving you down a small flight of stairs towards the lower section of the ship. It was dingy and unlit, the only light seeping in being the moonlight from a tiny window.

Once inside, you recognized your new home as a cell. Barred and caged in, being tossed inside carelessly. There was nothing but a cot and a bucket to relieve yourself. It was completely empty and void of comfort.

Ghost shut the cell door, locking it with an annoyed grunt. You hadn’t even noticed him pull out the set of keys to open it for you, nor had you noticed when he locked you in. You watched as he thrusted the keys in his back pocket, the only evidence of its presence being the small glint of metal from the moon’s light.

“Wait!” you cried out when he turned to leave. You scrambled on the cell floor, hands wrapping around the cold bars. He paused his walk, throwing you a look of disinterest. “You can’t just leave me in here!”

Ghost snorted in what you dared to say amusement. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, princess. You’ll be of use soon enough.”

Ignoring your pleas, he stepped up the stairs and returned to the main deck, shutting the door and leaving you utterly alone. Silence filled the air apart from the calming waves of the sea, though it did nothing to soothe you. You were helpless, deprived of any form of escape.

You spent what felt like hours on the floor of your cell, weeping into your own hands, silently praying to a God to release you. When nobody came to your rescue, you knew it was far too late for a miracle. This would be your new life, your new home, for as long as they kept you alive.

Part of you wished they would’ve just killed you instead.

My partner, I swear...

So we both had a day off last week and we decided, fuck it, we were gonna go wandering, hit up a few thrift shops, even the actual mall for once... She suggested I wore a skirt and my collar, and I'm okay with this... Should have known from the glint in her eyes why she picked the one with an elastic waistband... But I thought nothing of it and we headed out. We'd been browsing around the first shop, when she gently shoves me into this little nook with a grin on her face. I feel tendrils running up my leg, and she kisses me deeply as she worms her way inside, muffling my noises, her finger hooked into the ring on my collar. She didn't pull away until she'd put two or three eggs in me. I'm flustered, I definitely came right there, but I manage to give her a glare. Can't have her always thinking I'm made of putty... even if I am, especially with a clutch stuffed into my belly. She smirked, and gave me a wink. Her hand keeps finding excuses to cup my belly, to touch me where she's filled me, wordless ways of saying *you're mine, and this proves it*... she even give the maternity section of the store a knowing look. I should browse that more often... She found another spot to yank me into, first, and in a heated moment of passion, I feel her slip inside me again, I quiver against her, and she put another few eggs in me... more than last time, but... I wasn't exactly counting, I just saw my tummy visibly puff up between us. "Is this what you plan on doing all day?" I moan softly into her ear, cradling my swollen belly. the feeling of my womb suddenly stretching to double its last size and then some leaves me breathless.

cw: f slur (i blame @rodolfoparras)

thinking about a homophobic misogynist man who just can’t get off like how he used to before he met you. no matter how times he fists his cock, is balls deep into some random women; none of it mattered. it was never enough, he was never satisfied. but when he thinks about his last “session” with you… he’s throbbing and rock hard within seconds (aww is that pre cum on the tip?) he tries to brush it off as nothing more than a little meeting between guys, he’s not a fag and he’ll never will be. his actions speak other wise but he’s way too narcissistic and delusional to see his contradiction.

he’s in too deep in his fantasy to hear himself whining and moaning like a bitch as he fucks into the tight hole of his hand. his eyes brimmed with tears as he recalled you holding his legs against his chest as your fat cock drilled into his sore hole, your pelvis slapping lewdly against his ass. he called you every insult in the book, but you didn’t care. in fact, his bitching made you pound into him harder.

he spat on his pointer and middle finger and slid a shaky hand down to his hole. it twitched and clenched around nothing, he felt so empty. he forces his two fingers inside him to the knuckle, if there was a heaven, he just saw it. as the fantasy continued, he only got more desperate. he bucked into his fist like a mutt in heat as his fingers thrust in and out of his tight heat. his pillows are drowning in drool at this point.

you call him your pretty princess, whose pussy was made to take your dick. your digits wrapped themselves around his throat, his adam’s apple bopping under your palm. taking in as much air as he could before you took it with the thunderous pace of your hips.

he never wished for a third arm more in his life. before long, he let out a pathetic, little, tiny sigh of “daddy” as he came all over his hand and belly. he lays on his soaked sheets absolutely exhausted. his first good nut in ages. he thinks about you again, and remembers he has a huge cucumber in his fridge he was about to blend into his work out smoothie.

his cock is leaking pre instantly.

y’know who gives the best blowjobs? soap and simon.

the pair of them are cheeky and playful when they're paired together.

it was johnny's plan. his idea was to corner you in and overstimulate you until you were reduced to nothing but a shaking, crying mess.

your thighs are forced open with your cock achingly hard, twitching at the sight of both men looming over you. simon's thick fingers grip your cock, leaning over you intimidatingly, his eyes half-lidded and a grin obviously plastered on his face with the way his eyes crinkle. god, you can barely meet his eyes before he grips your chin, tilting your head towards him to maintain eye contact while he jerks you off slowly.

you can feel johnny's lips and warm tongue against your heavy balls. he massages your ballsack while sucking on them, coating them in his drool. he chuckles at the reaction he gets out of you. all johnny wants to see is you begging, pleading with them for permission to come.

for the next couple of hours, you're nothing but their toy to use and play with.

simon will fuck your tight asshole. so unused, with your cock leaking all over your abdomen at the pleasure. you've been dreaming of this, you won't lie. you've been fantasising about the addictive sensation of simon's lengthy dick filling your holes, while johnny slaps his weeping dick against your cheek and orders you to tilt your head back and allow him to use your throat.

you're just a private, nothing in comparison to your sergeant and lieutenant.

your boner throbs and aches at the sudden lack of attention. before, they couldn't keep their hands off of your dick and balls, and now they were neglecting your poor, sore cock. you plead through deep breaths for them to jerk you off, tears rolling down your cheeks slowly with your bottom lip quivering.

“pathetic—so damn greedy, aye? yer’ gettin’ fucked by simon and suckin’ my dick, and yet ye’ still want more? dirty boy.” johnny growls out teasingly. he's so condescending and cruel with his words, he knows exactly how to rile you up.

the taste of johnny's bitter load lingers on your tongue. you choke out a string of incoherent words before you're coming all over yourself uncontrollably, strings of your hot arousal landing against your chest.

“didn’t say you could come, private.” simon grumbles out disappointedly, flipping you onto your stomach. his gloved hand pins your head down while he slaps and rubs his bulbous cock against your ass for a second round.

they'll go at it until you're obedient and know how to behave, until you're sobbing and babbling out an apology, offering your body to them in return for their forgiveness and sympathy.

pls pls pls pls pls pls write something with hound getting a lil chubby during rehab pls i want to see him soft and comfy, being hand fed and cuddled. hound with a little tum from finally having not only enough to eat but enough rest to actually gain a little extra weight pls im in my knees characters getting a lil chub as a sign of healing my beloved

Okay here's a small brain fart for you:

You've gotten fat.

it's a rather egregious exaggeration, according to the two sergeants, but it's the first thing you think of when you look in the mirror. Your hard muscles still bulge beneath your skin when you flex, but now there's a layer of fat cushioning your frame — it smooths the planes of your abdomen, widens the circumference of your thighs and the breadth of your shoulders until you're popping the seams of your clothes, the layer of fat deepening the cleavage between your pecks whenever you cross your arms. Even your cheeks look chubbier than they had before.

You don't look like death warmed over, and you don't know how to feel about it. The psychologist says it's a good thing, your body finally figuring out it can slow down and focus on healing instead of constantly living on the edge of a knife.

But you just don't see it. It feels like you're regressing; Forgetting the harshness of the wild when you're collared and leashed by the fireplace, growing fat and lazy, complacent. A spoiled dog isn't loyal.

You let out a noise at the back of your throat when Johnny suddenly rushes into the small room you've been given, the door slamming open and closed. You don't have time to even say a single word before he's in front of you, "Hide me!" and then he's gripping your shit and pushing himself beneath it. Your frame is big enough to where you completely block him out, and his arms wrap as much as they can around your waist so he can cling to you.

You're rarely stunned to the point you don't know what to do, but this is one of those times.

A second later you hear a "MacTavish!" and loud footsteps rush down the hall, accompanied by loud swears and threats you can only assume are from Ghost.

Johnny waits still as a statue as the footsteps grow quiet, his breath washing over your skin from where his face is pressed against your chest. When they grow quiet he shuffles, a couple of seams popping in the already stretched out shirt until he pokes his head through the head hole of the shirt, resting his chin on the top of your sternum. "Thanks laddie, saved me skin there."

"Что блят?" Is the only thing your mind can force out, defaulting to Russian because you haven't been able to dig up your mother tongue from the grave the old you is buried in.

"Ah don't worry about it, the bloody dobber had it comin' with his bloody tea in chef Mike an' — Hmmm," His attention focuses on you, head disappearing beneath the shirt once again until only his stupid mohawk pokes out as his hands give an experimental squeeze at your sides, some of the fat getting trapped between his fingers. "Hey, have you gotten bigger? Ah could swear you weren't so fluffy before."

"That a nice way of calling me fat?" You feel the need to cross your arms, to hide the cushioning hiding your muscles. Ants gnaw on your skin where Soap touches you, his calloused palms sliding as far as they can and a strange sound rumbling in his chest when he registers that the space between both of his hands is indeed larger than it had been a couple of months ago.

"Nonsense!" He guffaws, "There's just more ta love." He hums, hands pinching the fat at your sides, evidently too content with your position as his human furnace to even think about detaching from you. "Oh yeah, you've filled out. Yae know hens love the dad bod, get some more hair on yer chest an' you'll be reeling the bucks in too."

"That-" You have to bite your lip when his hands suddenly shoot up to grope your pecks. He pushes them together and buries his face in the cleavage created. Your brain completely shuts off when he fucking motorboats you, shaking his head and making a sound right against your chest to the point you're sure you can feel the vibrations in your spine.

"MacT-avish!" The sound that escapes you is humorously high-pitched for someone of your size, your voice cracking as you feel your entire face grow hot.

He pokes his head back out like a whack-a-mole, a very pleased look on his face. "Yeeess?" He asks, sickly sweet. "Something the problem big man?"

"I-" You try, too many thoughts weighing down your tongue, "-You-" this time your voice cracks, "-why-" you hiccup, your lungs choosing this time to request air as you breathe in. You look in his eyes as best you can, but the way the sparkle makes it difficult for your body to stoke the flames of anger you've grown so used to feel. ". . . блят." You finally manage to say, your shoulders sagging.

He grins at you, his hands sliding down to pet the soft surface of your stomach, fingers pressing down to feel the hard muscle beneath the fat. "Aye, big bear of a fucker, you are." He grins and goes on his tippy toes, the shirt moving up with him before he lightly pecks your lips. "Yae look good like this."

"Yeah?" You grunt, trying not to show how the soft touch affects you but your ears feel like you'd dipped them into the pits of hell.

"Definitely." He's confident when his hands slides down to grope your ass, forcing another embarrassing sound from your chest. "Now how about we get some more food in yer belly? Make you the famous MacTavish pie."

Hell Has a Basement Floor (Welcome Home)

You are a mage. Nothing more. Your past accomplishments don't matter. They do

You are a mercenary. Nothing more. Your present deeds don't matter. They do

You are Ifrit. Nothing more. You don't matter.

That's how you operate these days; You sell your services to the highest bidder from corrupt government officials to cartels and don't stop until you're covered in ash and the screaming of your victims has left your heart ringing hollow and deafened the meek voice of the person you were. The bounties and warrants on your head are as meaningless as the blood money you receive, only pushing you to move and offer your grievous gifts to more buyers, leaving bloodstained boot prints behind as you walk without true purpose.

You've been able to avoid capture. Until now. You knew your current buyers would betray you, the signs were obvious, and you knew the only way you were going into custody was in a body bag. You had just hoped you'd be able to take the backstabbers with you before the cold muzzle of a gun was pressed to your temple. Unlike last time.

You're still not sure how that turned into you joining a military taskforce full of actual monsters.

--------------

Yep, this thing is officially happening lol. I'm gonna be looking to post the first chapter in like 1-2 weeks but no promises. Gonna be full of fucking angts and gore and smut. Most of it will be gn, but any sex is gonna be strictly amab reader.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, coming soon :)

AO3:

@resident-cryptid @diejager @lovingtyrantkitten

*Feral noises*

I need more Price and sidechick!! (Also, it was amazing) -🐻✨

IM GLAD YOU LIKE IT ANON 🐻✨>O< THIS TOOK A WHILE IM SORRY, but here you go..!

part 1/3 of Sugardaddy!Price where you're just his sidechick.. 😔

or are you? *vsauce theme playing*

thanks to auntie @ahobaka-trash for beta <3

Pairing : Price x Gaz x f!Reader, implied poly141 x f!reader tw : oral sex (m receiving), foot job, dubcon, infidelity (or is it?), workplace harassment, praise kink, daddy kink word count : 6731 rated : E AO3

Between Him and Him

The night was full of passion, where pleasure was shared with every touch. Fingers intertwined on the sheet, squeezing with every collision of his hips against yours. His beard rubbed against your skin as his lips left a trail of marks down your neck. Rough fingers oh so skillfully working their magic, placed between your thighs to dance on your clit, rubbing, circling, pinching-

You shook your head and sighed shakily, scolding yourself in your head. This was no time and place to remember that. Your hands tapped your cheeks which felt warm to the touch, before looking around, hoping there were no mind-readers present.

You almost jolted when perfectly manicured nails tapped against your desk, sharp and deliberate. You looked up to find your boss’s wife staring down at you, her expression taut with barely contained anger. Swallowing hard, you quickly stood—while instinctively making yourself seem smaller in her presence. Stammering out an apology, you braced yourself as she launched into a scathing lecture on workplace etiquette.

Used to it by now, you only looked down at your heels and listened. From the very first day you started working as her husband’s secretary, she had always been hostile towards you. You never understood why until one day you overheard her accusing your boss of cheating on her with you.

You almost laughed at the time. As if you'd do something like that.

But now, an image of John Price flashed in your head. His smile, his touches.

The ring on his finger.

"Are you even listening!?" You snapped out of your thoughts at the sharp tone. 

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry.." You murmured, fingers twitching as you held back from fidgeting with your skirt.

After enduring another round of berating, you sighed in relief when you saw your boss finally emerge from his office and beckoning his wife over.

You watched as she made a public claim of her husband, kissing his cheek before clinging to his arm as they both disappeared behind the door. You saw a glimpse of her smug smirk before the door was fully closed.

You snorted.

A pause.

Then your shoulders sagged.

As you sank back into your seat, your mind raced with the thought of a similar scenario—but this time, it was John's wife who stood in her place.

Just then, your phone buzzed. As if he was summoned by your thoughts, his name appeared on the screen.

Despite getting an earful about work ethics previously, you answered the call and cradled your phone between your shoulder and ear. "Hello?"

"Hi darling, I hope I'm not bothering you" His deep voice rumbled, sending a shiver down your spine which made you feel ashamed for having such a reaction just from his voice alone.

"No sir" You responded, acting like you were taking a work-related call as your eyes focused on the documents you needed to proofread.

You heard John’s low chuckle and instinctively squeezed your thighs under the desk. "You're off work at 6 like usual?" He asked, to which you responded with a nod.

It took you a second to remember that he couldn't see you. Wow, even without him being physically present, he was still able to make you dumb.

"Yes, sir, 6.00 pm" You finally answered.

"Good" He purred. "I'll pick you up later, yeah?" He added.

"Um- ok-" you didn't manage to finish your sentence before he started speaking again. "From work, not your place"

At his words, you found yourself frowning. “Um- what do you mean?” You asked.

He never picked you up from work, you prefer that he come to your house anyway. So you’d have time to retouch your makeup and change into a more suitable outfit for the date. You didn’t like being to go out unprepared, he knew that.

“I’m taking you to my house” You heard him say.

..What?

He never took you to his place before, and you assumed it was because of the missus.

..Is this like one of those porno where he fantasized about fucking his mistress in the space he shared with his partner?

You should feel disgusted, really.. you should stop interacting with him, block him, ghost him, avoid him at all costs.

But your body betrayed that thought as you felt the heat simmering below your belly. Your face heated up in embarrassment. Ashamed.

Well, at least you were still capable of feeling shame.

“I want you to meet someone” John continued like he could read your mind.

Oh.

He probably wanted to introduce you to his wife so she could see for herself—that you were just a friend, or something, nothing more. A way to earn her trust, to ease her worries about suspicion of infidelity. You wondered if she had grown suspicious, which made him come up with such an idea.

If so, agreeing to this made you more of a bad person than you already were.

“..Okay” You responded against your better judgment.

Before he could speak again, you remembered something and spoke up again. “And oh- John..” You purred softly with the tone you used whenever you wanted something. He seemed to understand it immediately with how he let out an amused chuckle.

“Got it darling, checking out everything in your cart right away.” He uttered firmly, like a soldier following an order.

You felt giddy for being able to get a man like him wrapped around your finger.

Talked too soon.

“I’m expecting the payment first, love.. talk to you later,” He murmured seductively before hanging up.

You could only sigh and smile, and if anyone was looking at you right now, they could see red flushing your cheeks.

Looking around, you made sure no one was actually looking at you before you lifted your phone for a selfie to send him as the payment, snapping multiple pictures with the same pose and slightly different angles. You made sure the camera caught your cleavage that peeked out from your blouse, knowing how he often showed favoritism to your tits even though he worshipped every curve of your body.

You always noticed the way his pupils dilated whenever you wrapped your hands around his arm and made it rest between your breasts, the way he would casually cop a feel of your boob during cuddles, playing with them in a way that made you think you could cum from him fondling your breasts alone, the scratch of his beard as his groans were muffled when he buried his nose between the mounds, big hands squeezing them together like he wanted to suffocate himself with them, how he always need to have them in his hands whenever he pounded into you-

You let out an embarrassing yelp when you feel someone tap your shoulder.

A familiar chuckle was heard which made you look up, feeling a tad bit disappointed to see your boss instead of a certain someone who had been living in your head rent-free.

“Are you okay? Called your name a  few times there.” He said with a head tilt and that signature smirk.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry.. I was  just thinking..” You stuttered, looking down in remorse. You felt your cheeks warming up, hoping that he didn’t notice the look on your face when you were previously lost in such thoughts.

You felt his hand linger on your shoulder before he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The office light caught the glint of his wedding ring as he pulled his hand away.

He seemed to notice you glancing at it from how his lips curled in a crooked smirk. “She already left, don’t worry.” He said, amused that you didn’t seem to notice that either.

Suddenly, you understood why his wife was wary of you.

“Um, what do you need me for, sir?” You asked, trying to keep professional despite the disgust you feel. Something you never felt when you were with John, even though the older man held the same relationship status.

“The meeting,” His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing in something close to amusement. "You were supposed to remind me, I was  waiting for you."

Your stomach dropped.

Heart racing, you clicked open his schedule, scanning the time. Five minutes.

Shit.

You cursed John in your head for leaving you unable to focus properly on your job.

You stood up so quickly your chair scraped against the floor. "I’m so sorry, sir. I lost track of time—"

"I noticed."

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck. He didn’t look upset—if anything, he seemed entirely too entertained by your flustered reaction.

"It won’t happen again," you promised, already gathering your tablet and notes.

His gaze flickered over you—calm, assessing, just a little too lingering. Then, "Relax." A faint smirk. "I figured you were busy. That’s why I came looking for you."

Part of you wondered if he had waited in his office for something else to happen if you had come to him.

"Let’s go," he said, stepping aside for you to walk first.

As you did, you swore you could feel his gaze on you, feel the weight of his gaze on your ass. You held back from tugging your skirt down.

Seriously, what’s with you and married men recently..

The day went on in a drag. Usually, you had no problem zoning out as your body moved on it’s own, slipping into the routine of your job. When time slipped away from you, swallowed by emails, reports, and an endless to-do list.

But today was different. Ever since you noticed how your boss sees you in a way that he shouldn’t, you became more aware of everything. The way he purposefully brushed his hand with yours when you handed him something, how he placed his hand at the small of your back, how he not so subtly peeked down the collar of your blouse.

How come you never noticed it before?

It made you uncomfortable, overshadowing your previous anxiety at the thought of John taking you to his house.

His house, the place he lived in, with his spouse.

Come  to think of it, both situations were practically the same.

Even so, you’d rather be with John than anyone else.

You resisted letting out a sigh of relief as the clock finally hit 6 PM. Heels clacked against the pristine floor as you fast-walked back to your desk, swiftly tidying everything up.

“Need a ride?” You froze when you turned around, almost bumping into your boss looking down at you.

“Um- no sir, thank you” You responded quickly before sidestepping to walk past him.

His hand caught your arm, pulling you back towards him before smoothly slipping around your shoulders. “Come on, it’s almost getting dark out, not safe for someone like you to be out alone” He said before dragging you away to the exit.

Your stomach twisted. Refusing him outright felt impossible—he was your boss, after all. Powerful. Untouchable. And if he took offense… your job wasn’t exactly secure.

“Sir, please.. i already-” You tried to plead but then a familiar voice called out your name.

The deep, gravely voice cut through the thick tension like a knife.

As you turned your head to look, and you relaxed as the familiar figure stepped closer. John. He was dressed casually—jeans and a fitted jacket—but his stance was firm, his expression calm but unwavering.

You bit your bottom lip, God he’s so-

Your boss’s jaw tensed. “And you are?”

John barely spared him a glance. “Her boyfriend,” he said smoothly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it—subtle, dangerous. 

Blue eyes shifted to you, like he was expecting you to move to his side. So you did.

A strong arm slid around your waist.

Your heart hammered, but you nodded quickly. “Right. He’s, uh, here to pick me up.”

Your boss smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He then looked between the two of you, assessing. Eyes lingered at the ring on John’s finger, the corner of his lips twitched knowingly before he exhaled a low chuckle. “I see. Well, drive safe.”

John didn’t wait until your boss left, couldn’t care less for the retreating footsteps as he focused on you. His fingers gently held your chin, guiding your gaze away from your boss and onto him.

“You alright, luv?” he asked quietly.

You were still shaken, hands trembling as you felt your heart thumping up to your throat. You were not alright, but you nodded anyway.

He glanced down at you, giving you a once-over like he didn’t buy your response. He always had a way of reading you, picking up on what you felt without you ever needing to say a word. So he knew better than to push. With a small tilt of his head, he simply murmured. “Let's go then”

The ride to his house was quiet, safe for the soft hum of whatever was playing on the radio. Outside, the night sky loomed dark, concealing the clouds that had silently gathered. Eventually, raindrops tapped gently against the car window, their rhythmic pitter-patter lulling you into a fragile sense of ease. For a while, the silence felt almost comforting—until he finally spoke.

“How long has that been going on?” His voice was low, gentle, yet beneath it lingered an unmistakable edge. His protectiveness slipped through the cracks.

It took you a while to process his words, couldn’t think with his musk penetrating your nostrils, the warmth of his hand which rested on your thigh at the hem of your skirt, his thumb drawing small circles on your soft skin.

“I-i think.. it’s been a while” You stuttered meekly.

He scoffed. “You think?” he tutted, scolding in a playful manner. His grip on your thigh tightened briefly before easing, his thumb resuming its slow, deliberate caress.

“I-i never really paid attention..” You responded quietly, cursing your own stupidity in your head. Come to think of it, you should’ve noticed since the beginning. From the way your boss looked at you, to how his wife took a dislike in you. Yet, you’ve always brushed it off, and now you were left to face the consequences with how bold he’d become. 

“Quit your job,” He said. A demand uttered in a calm tone that was edged with steel. It carried the weight of authority, leaving no room for argument.

“W-what? i can’t just-” You cut yourself short when his blue eyes shifted to you, pinning you on the spot.

“I've told you already, you don’t need to work when you have me, sweetheart,” He said in a softer tone, the words uttered were soothing. His hand slipped higher beneath your skirt, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Well… he wasn’t wrong. He was your sugar daddy, after all. Whatever you wanted or needed, he’d provide—whether you asked for it or not. As he had been nothing less than that ever since you met him. And would continue to provide as long as you kept being his good girl. You could trust everything with him, right?

The moonlight caught the gleam of his ring, a fleeting glint in the corner of your eye.

No.

You were smart enough to not put any hope to a married man. Didn’t want to face the reality of him choosing between you and his spouse one day. You could endure everything for now, content with receiving his attention and money even though you knew it was wrong. You couldn’t help it, when somewhere along the way, you’d unintentionally started to have feelings for him.

Looking away with a pout, you responded “I’ve only worked there for three months.. it would be bad for my CV-” Your words faltered, lost in a sharp inhale as his finger went further up to trace along the edge of your panties beneath your skirt.

“Don’t test me, doll” The rumble in his tone sent a shiver down your spine.

You exhale shakily, cheeks flushed red, ashamed of your own reaction.

“A-alright, i’ll think about it..” You responded, with a voice that was too high and more shaky than you would’ve liked.

He hummed, fingertips moving to the front before squeezing your clothed clit gently between two digits. “Try again, baby”.

A whimper slipped from your lips as your thighs instinctively squeezed shut, only to draw a breathy moan when the movement only made the sensation worsen for the better.

“Y-yes, daddy..” You breathed out pathetically.

“Good girl” he responded, his eyes were now focused on the road. Though, his hand stayed between your legs.

You didn’t know what to expect when the front door opened. Maybe a sweet lady who would make you feel guilty for being a homewrecker. Or a weary, hollow-eyed woman who had long since stopped loving her husband. Perhaps even a striking, glamorous beauty—someone who only married him for the money.

Well, you certainly didn't expect to see the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He looked like he just walked out of a Vogue magazine cover.

Broad shoulders, a solid chest, and arms that looked like they could hold the weight of the world without breaking a sweat. Defined muscles, sculpted but not exaggerated, hint at power without intimidation. His skin was a warm, rich brown, smooth and sun-kissed, complementing the deep chocolate of his eyes. But it was his smile—soft, warm, teasing—that made him truly ethereal.

His gaze rested at you tenderly while you stood there, gaping like an idiot.

“You must be..” He uttered, followed by your name, his voice smooth as silk, wrapping around each syllable like a slow, deliberate caress

Damn, even his voice was sinful.

Why the fuck did John cheat on him.

“Yes, um.. that's me, yeah.” You responded dumbly, blushing even harder when you heard him and John chuckle.

What should you introduce yourself as? John didn't rehearse anything with you-

“John told me a lot about you,” He said before you could break down and tell him everything about how you had been sleeping with his husband.

“I’m Kyle, by the way” he added, extending his hand for you to shake.

You shook his hand and hoped that your palm wasn't as sweaty as you thought it was.

He didn't let go until you did. And when he did, his touch lingered.

Or perhaps it was just in your head.

The light above caught a glint of the ring on his finger. A ring similar to John’s.

You shifted your gaze away from it.

“Come in, then,” Kyle said as he stepped aside.

As you walked through the door, you saw John kissed him tenderly out of the corner of your eyes. You chose to focus on admiring the interior of the house, looking anywhere but at them.

The atmosphere inside was calm, steady, a quiet sanctuary from the rest of the world. It wasn’t extravagant or overly decorated, but it still felt homey.

Made you feel like an intruder.

“John said you like pasta,” You sensed Kyle’s presence beside you which took you by surprise. His hand was placed at the small of your back as he escorted you to the kitchen.

The touch felt more intimate than it should. But you were too confused by everything to think much of it.

The dining table was set with effortless charm, set with care but without unnecessary formality. Multiple plates of steaming truffle pasta were arranged neatly; the rich, earthy aroma wafting through the air.

You were still trying to figure out what was happening. For what reason did John invite you here, what kind of stuff had he told his husband about you.

From what you were seeing, you could assume that this was a casual dinner. It also seemed that John had been talking about you to Kyle a lot, but why? Wouldn't it make Kyle suspicious? Maybe that was why John invited you over, to get Kyle to lower his guard by knowing you, your previous theory might be correct. But the way Kyle acted towards you was odd, there was no hint of jealousy in his eyes. If anything, he greeted you way too nicely than he should-

Everything was too confusing, you should just stop thinking.

“Oh- sorry, i didn't bring anything-” You replied as you looked up at Kyle with wide eyes.

Kyle exhaled an amused chuckle as he pulled out a chair for you to sit. “Why do you need to bring anything?” He responded with a teasing tone.

“Well.. um.. to be polite..?” You said after you sat, voice becoming quieter at the end of your sentence. Two pairs of eyes locked onto you, making you fidget in your seat.

“Cute.” Kyle simply said with a smile.

John smiled and reached out to caress your legs beneath the table as a gesture to calm you down.

A simple touch that sent heat rushing through you, the impropriety of doing it discreetly in front of his husband only making it more titillating.

You chose to shift your focus to the plate in front of you as you tried to keep calm, playing the role of a ‘friend’ or whatever John had told Kyle about you.

The dinner went better than you thought it would. At least on the surface, with how the two men seemed to be treating you kindly, even if on the inside, you felt like a sinner at the church.

You expected Kyle to ask more about you, but that didn't happen. It was like he knew about you already, asking you about your job and things that had been going on in your life like he was catching up with some old friend instead of talking with his husband’s mistress, even though he probably didn't know about that. 

But even with how welcoming Kyle was, and how John was kind to you like he usually was, you still felt like an outsider. You couldn't help but notice how John always reached out to touch Kyle, whether to pass something or just a gesture he did when he talked. While Kyle looked at John like he hung the moon, smiling with each word uttered by the older man.

They made sure to include you in the conversation, but you couldn't help but be reminded of your position.

They were married, bound together by vows, the promise of forever, witnessed by the weight of rings on each other's fingers. 

While you were..

A temporary pleasure, a pretty thing to warm John’s bed. A secret folded between late-night pleasure and stolen hours, never meant to see the light of day. He whispered sweet nothings, traced promises on your skin with the same lips that uttered his wedding vows.

You knew it, deep down. You were excited, the rush of something forbidden, the fire that burned bright but was never meant to last.

Then, your mind reeled back to the questions you had in your head ever since John said he wanted to invite you over. You still weren't sure of the reason, as you could only assume.

What was his reason? Was it really to convince Kyle that you were nothing to worry about? Or was it to show you that you were truly nothing to him.

Kyle laughed at a particularly awful dad joke John made, while you sat there in silence, lost in the whirlwind of thoughts crowding your mind.

Thoughts that gave you a headache.

And heartache.

You weren’t possessive of John like he was with you. But you were jealous—not of Kyle, but of what they had. Pushing aside John’s infidelity, you longed for what you were seeing right now.

Your eyes drifted to the rings on their fingers, and felt the lack of weight on your own.

You were a nobody.

“Sorry, i need to use the bathroom,” You stood up a bit too quickly, causing the chair to scrape against the floor with a sharp noise.

You winced. Both at the sound, and the way your heart clenched. No, don't cry. Not right now. Not in front of them.

“Come, i’ll show you where it is,” Kyle replied with a kind smile that sent a pang to your heart.

“I’ll clean these up,” John said as he stood and collected the dishes. He then walked around to give Kyle a peck on his lips before he headed to the kitchen.

With barely a glance towards you.

It was for the better, you thought. So his husband wouldn't suspect a thing, so you wouldn't get your hopes up.

“This way,” You heard Kyle say, standing nearby as he gestured to the hallway.

You could only smile and nod in response before you headed your way.

Lost in your thoughts, about what would happen after, what should happen after. 

Should you put an end to this? Stop wrecking the happiness you just witnessed from the sidelines. The rational part of you said, yeah. But your heart was already attached to John.

Thought after thought occupied your mind as you walked down the hall and into the bathroom before heading for the sink to clear your mind.

Too lost in your head to notice footsteps following you from behind.

A presence followed you in, locking the door behind.

At the sound of the click, you looked up, only to catch Kyle's reflection in the mirror as he approached from behind.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, chin on your shoulder with his cheek pressing against yours. 

And you froze, couldn't speak, stopped thinking.

“What’s with the pout?” He cooed with a disarming smile that made his eyes squint. His hand reached up to tug on your lower lip with his thumb.

“W-what?” You managed to break out of your shock with an embarrassing squeak.

His chest rumbled against your back as he chuckled in response.

“I was hoping to see this cute smile in person,” He continued as he pulled out a phone from his pants, showing you the pictures you took this morning, an innocent selfie–safe for the cleavage peeking out the collar of your blouse. The one you sent John.

That phone.. John’s phone.

You felt your heart drop, colors drained from your face.

“..You knew” you stammered.

And before he could say anything, you started to blabber. “I-i’m sorry.. sorry i’m- i know i shouldn't- i know it’s wrong”.

Your eyes teared up as the grip around your waist tightened. And you were reminded that the person behind you was a strong man who could snap you in half if he wanted to.

“Hey.. ssh..” his voice was soothing you as he turned you around, one hand rested on the sink beside you as the other went up to wipe your tears.

No hint of anger in his tone, just a tinge of amusement.

A thumb pressed against your lips to stop you from apologizing. “You're sorry..?” He asked with a tilt of his head, smirk on his lips.

You nodded shakily, holding back a whimper when he leaned closer.

Firm lips pressing against your trembling one, his hand cupped your cheek to keep you still. Not that it was needed with the way you froze.

Eyes wide as you could only stand there and let him savor your lips.

It was gentle, soft, almost.. sweet. Yet, you were left breathless when he broke the kiss.

He didn't back off all the way, pressing his nose against yours. His warm gaze locked onto you as he slowly licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste of you.

And your eyes couldn't help but follow the movement of his tongue.

Whatever thoughts that bothered you before were now thrown out of the window.

“Hmm.. prove it then,” he purred, warm breath caressed your lips as the timbre of his voice went straight to your core.

Your cheeks felt too warm for your liking. “..What?”.

His hand went down, but your eyes stayed locked to his. Even when you heard the familiar smooth whirr of metal teeth separating, accompanied by a faint rasp of fabric shifting.

“I said prove it, baby,” he murmured as he pulled back only to push you down on your knees by your shoulder.

One hand caressed your cheek, while the other held the base of his hardening cock in front of you, tapping the tip against your lips.

You jolted instinctively. Wet lashes fluttered as your doe eyes widened, looking up to meet his. That same charming smile from when he first greeted you lingered on his lips—but now, it carried a different weight. His pupils, blown wide with something else, sent a message that made you hold your breath.

“I’d call John over, but I'd rather have you to myself right now,” he purred as he pressed the tip of his cock between your lips, rubbing but not pushing any further.

..What is going on?

John would definitely notice both of your prolonged absences, he would eventually search for you- for Kyle-

This is wrong on so many levels, being in this position with your.. sugar-daddy’s husband, someone who should have despised you when he found out about your status as the mistress.

Push him away. Your conscience whispered.

But.. 

You had already become a willing participant in something scandalous from the moment you met John. Did you even have the right to weigh morality now, when the lines between right and wrong had long since blurred?

And who were you to refuse a command from such a fine man standing before you?

Your doe-like eyes trailed up his figure, taking in the lean muscles wrapped in a tight shirt, the faint happy trail leading downward, the sharp cut of his jaw, and that devilish smile playing at his lips.

Saliva pooled in your mouth, a drop slipped out the side and dripped down your chin as you parted your lips to suckle on the tip of his cock shyly.

“I know you could do better than that..” he murmured. Fingers pressed against your jaw, thumb and forefinger applying just enough pressure to part your lips. A slow, deliberate motion—prying them open with ease.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he eased in, inch by inch, stretching the warmth of your mouth.

He was gentle, pushing but not forcing. Giving you an illusion of control when you both knew who was truly in charge. Contrasting with John, who always made it clear from the start that he would break you apart, but also familiar in a way that they both intended to make a mess out of you.

Oh god.. John.

He was outside this bathroom, probably somewhere nearby. It should scared you, the fact that he might come knocking at the door only to find his side chick sucking on his husband's dick.

But..

You were too occupied to worry about that right now.

“That’s it.. good girl..” He cooed when you were an inch away from taking all of him. The praise sent a slow, simmering heat, curling deep in your core, you could feel yourself being embarrassingly wet just from having his cock in your mouth.

His fingers caressed your cheek down to your jaw, a small gesture of commendation that made you long for more. Wanted him to tell you how good you were for him, to have those long fingers caress your scalp as you pleasure him.

So you loosened your jaw further, letting your throat relax before pushing forward until your nose was nestled against the neatly trimmed curls at the base.

You preened when you heard him groan.

“Attagirl baby..” he rasped as he patted your head, an innocent gesture that made you shiver.

You wanted more of that, wanted him to praise you more, to be a good girl for him so he would reward you. 

His hand rested atop your head—not gripping, pulling, or pushing. A silent command lingered in the touch, a wordless expectation for you to do your job while he watched.

And you obeyed.

Slurping up the precum and saliva that slicked his length, your tongue glided along each pulsing vein, tracing every ridge as you slowly pulled back. When you withdrew, you extended your tongue further, the pointed tip teasing over his frenulum with deliberate precision. Wide, doe-like eyes gazed up at him, making you look so utterly docile—obedient and eager to please, silently pleading for more praise.

And it was so nice of him to give it to you.

“Look at you, so pretty taking my cock like that.. you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? don’t worry baby, i’ll give you more.. just keep going.. oh.. that’s it..” He kept uttering praises that made you moan softly around his cock.

Leaning back in, your eyes fluttered to a shut as you focused entirely on his pleasure—willing to give your all if it meant earning more of those sweet praises.

But then, he gripped your hair and tugged you away, making you let go of him with a lewd pop as you whined.

“None of that, baby. Keep those pretty eyes open,” He scolded. His tone was gentle, yet the commanding words made you instinctively straighten your spine, nodding in quiet obedience.

He smiled before loosening his grip and let you continue.

With his words in mind, you kept your gaze locked onto his, never looking away as you worked to please him with your mouth.

Slurping, sucking, licking, swallow. Memorizing each twitch and breath, making  mental note of any precise movements that pulled those deep, satisfied groans from his lips.

Relishing every praise uttered between the sound of pleasure.

Soon enough, you quickened your pace, bobbing your head fast the moment you felt him twitch. Desperate to coax him over the edge and feel him shooting his load down your throat.

With every nudge of his cock against the back of your throat, your pussy clenched. And you shifted on your knees, pressing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to quell the heat simmering between them.

And how kind of him to notice—even more so when he lifted his leg, tilting his ankle just enough to press the arch of his foot firmly against your aching heat.

An embarrassing whine muffled by his cock as he moved his foot side to side, rubbing your sensitive clit. Your eyes rolled back when he pressed his foot further up to press against your cunt before dragging it back and forth. Giving you a slow, torturous sensation that got you dripping.

Hands gripped his pants as your hips rolled against the slope of his foot to chase the pleasure.

It was embarrassing, to get yourself off of someone’s foot. But you were desperate, squeezing your legs together to trap him there as you continued to grind. Pathetic whines and moans slipped from your lips every time your clit caught on your underwear, or when you ground your hips down just right.

But then, he pulled his foot away and you almost sobbed at the sudden loss.

“Ah ah, don’t get distracted..” He tutted, hand reaching up to push your hair out of your face before trailing down to your lips which were still wrapped around his cock.

You bat your eyelashes at him, a pitiful muffled whimper slipped past your lips in a feeble attempt at an apology. Feeling sorry for getting temporarily lost in chasing your own pleasure that you forgot about his.

His smile widened in response as he trailed his fingers down to your jaw, a gesture that commanded you to continue the previous ministration.

As you started moving your head again, he put his foot back between your legs to rub against your clothed cunt.

With your hips grinding down at the same pace as your head, you tried your best to split your focus. But it was getting harder and harder with how he moved his foot like so- rubbing and pressing your clit as the slope dragged itself back and forth against your throbbing pussy, teasing between your folds.

You worked your mouth on him as you kept trying to build up the heat that intensified in your core. Doing both simultaneously as you were afraid he might rip the sensation away if you didn't satisfy him enough, just like before.

“You close yet, baby?” His voice purred as he moved his foot against you some more.

A squeak escaped your lips as a thrill shot up your spine. Your nails dug into his hips as you ground your pussy against him, hard.

And then you felt him moving his foot to the side, tugging the edge of your panties to push it aside before grinding directly against your bare cunt. Then, you felt the tip of his toes pressing against the entrance which became the final push that sent you over the edge.

You moaned wantonly around his cock as your legs buckled. Gasping through your nose as you struggled to breathe with him deep in your throat. Unable to keep up with the waves of pleasure that hit you.

A distant echo of Kyle’s voice was heard behind the blood rushing through your ears.

“That's it..” He praised.

You slurped around his cock as you kept moving your head.

“Making a mess of yourself..” he continued in a seductive whisper.

You swallowed with him deep in your throat, making him twitch as he groaned.

“Good fucking girl..” He grunted as he put one hand against your throat, cradling in a way like you were nothing more than submissive.

Spit inevitably coated the underside of your chin, lining the ridges of your throat.

Then, his head hung back, relishing the sensation as he teetered over the edge. His cock throbbed with the intense release, shooting thick ropes of white down your throat.

Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they clung to your lashes. But you couldn't pull away with his hand keeping your head still, making you take every drop of his cum.

“Take it all, doll.. but don't swallow,” he commanded with that smooth voice of his, which was way more soothing than it should be.

And you obeyed.

Pliant when he finally pulled your head back until his softening cock slipped out your lips with a wet, obscene pop.

You let him tilt your head up before prying your mouth open. Your gaze, glazed and unfocused as he drank in your wrecked state.

On your knees, basking in the afterglow after getting off on a man’s foot, saliva and cum trailing down your chin.

Then, he spit into your mouth.

“Swallow”.

And just like before, you obeyed.

If you didn't feel dirty being his husband's mistress, you sure did now.

Again, what's with you and married men recently.

The door clicked shut, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

Kyle couldn't help but chuckle at the fresh memory of your face in his mind. And while he wanted nothing more than to be by your side, you wouldn't let him.

And since he was in a good mood (thanks to you), he decided to indulge, letting you be when he noticed how flustered you were—too overwhelmed to bear another second in his presence.

So when you pushed him out, he left and let you clean yourself alone in the bathroom, letting you gather your thoughts.

“How was it?” He heard John speak from where the older man sat on the couch.

“Better than it should, if i say so myself,” Kyle approached and gave him a quick peck before taking a seat beside him. “I was just going to talk to her, but.. i couldn't hold myself back.”

Before John could respond, a continuous buzz was heard.

Kyle pulled out his phone and accepted the call before putting it on speaker mode.

“Fuck ye, should’ve said somethin’ about the lass comin’ o’er.” Thick scottish accent came through the speaker.

John chuckled at the complaints. “Don't want to overwhelm her yet, Mactavish."

“Ya fuckin' dobber- Come on, Simon! Hit the fucking gas. We’re headin’ back home whether they like it or not,” His yelling rang loudly through the line, even if it was directed at someone from his side.

Looks like the other two were ending their date early.

open taglist : @skeletonsucker, @niazrzl, @iiriam, @katerinaval, @chickennn-soupp, @massivescissorsthingperson, @dreamland08, @massivescissorsthingperson, @brittney-121, @kukavittu, @noheadcanons-juststories, @z-wantstowrite, @uraeus56, @tellme-im-pretty, @prettygirleevee, @pisiksukedk, @nathanmcr

Next (soon)

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 '𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞' 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? || 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠 male!version

Prompts 27 of my Creeptober! Here is a link to the fem!version!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : könig x male!reader (reader wears a tux) 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : könig is sick of highschool, and on prom night he decides to summon the courage to do two things: get back at his bullies... and tell you how he feels. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.7 k 𝐚/𝐧 : gets dark, but, includes a cute stalker könig? is this a win or- also if you haven't watched carrie... spoiler alert 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : blood/gore, bullying, stalking, yandere themes, light smut (suggestive), chars are over 18+, slight angst, mutual pining, no use of y/n, alcohol

𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. The neon lights sparkled off the disco ball and flooded the dark gymnasium. Party balloons lined the ceiling and dancefloor, kicked around lazily as couples and friends twirled to the music. Chaperones turned a blind eye to the obscenities that took place under the bleachers or right in the middle of the dance floor. Tongues tangling together with laughter and playful bites.

Someone probably spiked the drinks here for more 'fun'. Afterall, tonight the entire class was celebrating themselves as adults now.

König grimaced hard under his black mask, gritting his teeth together so hard he feared they might break. The black tie he failed to put on clutched in a white knuckle grip.

This school deserved to burn, to rot. Everyone on that damned dance floor didn't fucking deserve to enjoy the night. Not after the hell they had put him through this year.

His sad blue eyes flickered up for a moment.

Laughing and smiling, dancing together... His bullies still snickering amongst themselves, glancing the losers way.

König was sat on the bleachers, closest to the wall, his head hanging a little lower as a group of girls in pretty gowns giggled at him as they passed.

"Why is he still wearing that thing?" someone muttered over the music. Filling his face with shame under the hood.

He hated prom.

He had only come because he was forced to, and he couldn't quite leave either because they were picking him up after this.

It was a fucking nightmare. Even on the edge of everything, a specter looking in on the typical 'highschooler' experiences being made. Couples danced and friends threw their heads back in laugher... Meanwhile, he was in the darkest corner, trying desperately not be noticed.

Shoulders hunched to make him appear smaller than he was, unsure where to put his eyes... The anxiety in his veins making him tremble under his fine suit.

There was at least one saving grace to this unsavory night.

Cautiously, as if he was being watched, König peeked around the thrumming gymnasium. Silently seeking out the one person who comforted his thoughts.

You were sitting on the bleacher opposite of him, a drink in hand, smiling as you watched everyone dance.

His whole body stiffened at the sight, a deep flush burning down his neck as he tried to avert his gaze.

He couldn't ever really look away from you though. His crush, all throughout highschool... the one thing he bothered looking forward to.

He stole another glance upward and his breath caught in his throat.

You looked handsome in that suit. The fine fabric shimmering softly under the disco lights, almost glowing against the sidelines of the gym. König's eyes traced the fine way you had done your tie, wandering down your chest to your belt. His soft blue eyes greedily eating up the glimpses of your neck and lips.

He desperately drank in your form, the hidden curve of your waist, the soft column of your throat... "Scheiße..." he hissed, feeling the seat of his pants tighten as he watched you sip your punch. Just slowly swaying to the music.

König discretely adjusted his situation, licking his lips nervously before he glanced at the dancefloor to make sure no one was looking. They would give him so much shit if they saw him ogling you. The guy everyone wanted to dance with.

He stole another glance your way and felt his heart nearly stop dead in his chest.

Your eyes met his and you smiled at him. A light (possibly drunken) flush coating your cheeks as you waved shyly.

König instinctively looked away, heart beating a million miles an hour.

God what was wrong with him? He winced clutching his undone bowtie as if it were a lifeline.

This wasn't art class or history, where he could sit at the back of class and stare at you whenever he wanted to. This was prom night.

He imagined it completely different than this.

So many nights he spent picturing kissing you, feeling your soft lips pressed against his... maybe finally telling you how much his heart swelled at just a stolen glance. How complete he felt whenever he got a fleeting moment with you.

God, he treasured all of those moments. 'Accidentally' bumping into you in the hallway, watching you walk home after school... always afraid to confess.

Tonight had to be different... and he was running out of time.

Although he trembled, König glanced at the darkened stage at the front of the gym. People moved in the shadows, getting ready to announce the prom king and queen... and probably some more shitty speeches of how their youth was spent.

Tonight—contrary to what everyone spat at him—was his night, and it would be perfect. He just had to suck up his nerves before they got away from him.

The opportunity came only a few minutes later when the song 'After Midnight' stopped playing.

You had risen from your spot, carrying an empty red solo cup to the trash by the doors, a lingering smile on your face. Tonight was fun so far, an experience to reflect back on at least, too distracted by the sudden screech of the mic to notice König.

The principal came onto the stage with a smile, introducing and thanking everyone who had helped out with prom prep.

While you faced forward, trying to get a glimpse of the stage, König finally stood up with an air of confidence. Walking over to you standing by the wall, his cold blue eyes flickering to the neon exit signs and light switches next to you.

He stood a head over everyone else already, his form becoming muscular throughout the year, ready to finally enlist in the army after this.

After all this highschool shit was over.

The only reason people picked on him was because of the hood he wore over his face. Teased him because of the stutter he once had. And outcast him because he froze whenever someone said 'hi'.

His black boots kicked up a few balloons as he walked over to you, confetti sticking to his soles as he closed the distance.

You finally glanced up at him as he stepped close, offering a soft confused smile that made his heart nearly fall out of his throat.

"I... needed to tell-tell you something," he stammered, mentally berating himself for being so nervous. He was finally standing in front of you, and surprisingly, he kept his eyes trained on your face.

Your... face.

His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, even as the principal began to announce that they would call up the proms' king and queen. You were so fucking hot, the way the soft lights danced across your skin...

He couldn't afford to freeze up this time.

Slowly, you watched as the young man lifted a rough hand to his head, peeling away the sacred black mask from his face. Inch by inch, he was finally laid bare for only you to see, his back turned from the stage where everyone's attention was, effectively blocking your view too.

Your eyes widened slightly, probably confused as to what he was doing. What showing his face to you meant. Those heavenly orbs of yours flickering across his features, drinking in the details. A strong nose and jawline, those familiar somber eyes of his glaring back, his dirty blonde hair was falling awkwardly over his brow. His entire face was flushed red from embarrassment, but he couldn't have looked more sure of himself.

"I... I really-" he trailed off, boldly stepping forward. One of his large arms reaching past your head to cage you against the wall, able to peer down at your lips.

Its not like he couldn't say it- he loved you, more than anything. More than this school. More than himself. More than you could ever fucking comprehend.

König leaned down abruptly, your soft gasp stolen as his lips pressed insistently against yours. He nearly groaned, closing his eyes as he claimed what he had always wanted.

You eventually melted into him. The sudden tension in your body slowly relaxing... and his breath hitched as he felt you place a gentle hand on his chest to steady yourself.

He leaned in closer, effectively forcing your back to press against the cold stones of the gymnasium with another gasp. König took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, hesitantly parting his lips. His tongue meeting yours.

The way you breathed into him, heated with the taste of fruit on your tongue made his pants tighten again. A satisfied groan melting in his throat.

"And our prom King and Queen everyone!" The principal announced with a flourish, the spotlights of the stage suddenly centered on the most popular couple in the school.

This couldn't have been more perfect.

You nearly broke the kiss when König pushed his body flush against yours. His dark desire for the things he could never have suddenly bursting like a dam in his mind.

This night was perfect.

He kept you pinned against the wall between his body, the cheers of the class roaring to life over the music for the voted prom 'royalty' who gushed and shared their own kiss on stage. The gymnasium suddenly filled with a blinding wave of silver and gold confetti.

At that moment, König's hand skidded across the wall, seeking the fire alarm switch. Flicking it on with one decisive motion.

Blood shot out from the sprinklers overhead, coating the entire dancefloor with slippery gore. Young men and woman alike screamed as the sirens blared over the music. The light from the disco ball fading as prom king and queen (and all their followers) were pelted in a rainstorm of warm blood.

You couldn't see what was happening around you. The young man in front of you effectively keeping you in place, keeping the horrors at bay, his icy blue eyes solely on you.

Blood dripped from his back, rolling down the sides of his face, painting a menacing picture as he grinned like a maniac... enjoying the sounds of people screaming-drowning in it and slipping over themselves to flee in their moment of panic.

"Götter..." he muttered, the crimson spraying lightly over your face before König blocked it again, "I love you, mien liebling," he finally confessed.

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?