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#anyone have suggestions for a good ship name?
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I’ve been joking to people that I wanted to write a Noelle x Amy fic
but I think I’m actually gonna do it, and take it seriously.  I think I might be the first, because I can’t find any existing fics. I’m imagining this is pre s9 Amy, she comes into try to heal Noelle as WoG claims did happen in a collapsed coil timeline, and from there try to do positive character growth that still fits cannon Amy.  For the sake of the fic I do think that I will have to make Noelle more like her earth Aleph personality, as she’s too hostile in cannon for a relationship to begin.
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magicalgrimm · 3 months
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Skoodaly do
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They Help You Practice
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Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!
TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list
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You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 
“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”
You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 
Price continued,
“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”
“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 
“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”
A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,
“What kind of bait, sir?”
“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”
“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.
The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 
“Good. Let's brief the team.”
Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 
“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”
You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 
The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.
“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”
Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 
“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”
“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 
Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,
“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”
“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”
“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 
“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 
Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,
“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”
“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 
“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”
Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 
You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.
But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 
Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,
“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”
Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.
You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 
You smiled,
“Well, do I look the part?”
Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,
“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”
“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”
Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,
“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”
“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”
“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”
“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”
“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.
Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,
“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”
“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”
Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,
“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”
The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 
Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,
“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”
The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 
“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 
The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,
“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”
You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 
Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,
“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 
Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 
“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”
“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  
He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 
Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 
Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,
“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”
You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,
“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”
You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 
“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”
You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,
“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”
You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 
He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 
“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 
The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 
“You alright, babes?” He laughed.
You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 
Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 
“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.
He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 
You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 
Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 
You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 
Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 
Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,
“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”
He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 
“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”
You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 
“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”
Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.
Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 
Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 
“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 
You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 
He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 
“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”
You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 
“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”
He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 
“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.
Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 
Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 
Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,
“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”
Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 
“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”
Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.
Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,
“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”
He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 
It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 
Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.
You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 
He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,
“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”
“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.
Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,
“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”
He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 
As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.
“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”
“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 
Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 
Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,
“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”
He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 
“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”
Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 
“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”
“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 
Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 
They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,
“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”
“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.
“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”
“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”
“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 
He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 
You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,
“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”
Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 
“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”
“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”
“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 
Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 
Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.
“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 
“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”
The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 
Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,
“Missing your masked man already?”
You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,
“He’s a little…preoccupied.”
Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 
Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 
“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”
He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 
When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 
“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”
You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 
Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 
“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.
“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 
“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 
“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”
Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,
“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”
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gojo-mochi · 11 months
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One Piece Men + Where they like to kiss you:
Content Warnings: Fluff + Little Suggestive + Slight Angst on Sanji’s Part
Pairings: Monster Trio + Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.8k
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❥ Luffy: Everywhere I swear… Any opening he can find, he will kiss you there. Wearing something off the shoulder? Bam! Shoulder kisses! Wearing shorts? Oop-! You’re getting thigh kisses now, even if you’re both out in public. Your face gets 80% of the kisses that Luffy gives, usually in quick succession. Sometimes he will Gomu-Gomu his way to you, arms tightly wrapped around your waist, yelling your name, as he crashes his lips onto your face, like literally crashes.
Clank Thunk. Clank Thunk. … ClankClankClank That was the sound of Luffy’s sandal hitting the wooden boards of The Thousand Sunny, as he ran around the desk of the ship looking for something fun to do. (Or someone to bother). Unfortunately for him, Usopp was below deck with Franky working on a new project, Chopper and Brook were in the Medical Ward checking on supplies, Sanji already kicked him out of the kitchen twice now, and Zoro was sleeping somewhere…
Jinbei and Robin were reading some boring books or whatever, and Nami is scary when she’s mad, so Luffy didn’t bother her much. So there left you… all alone and clueless as you were enjoying sunbathing out in this weather in your new bikini. Shades on and frizzy drink in hand. Not a care in the world at the moment. Until you start hearing… Clank.. Thud … ClankClankClank
“Y/N!!!!!!!!!!!”
Luffy called out your name as he ran, stretched his arms on to your lounge chair, and slammed himself on to you. Your shades flew off into the sunset, and your drink poured the rest of its content onto you and Luffy as it fell from your hand.
“Lu!” You scolded your captain, who only gave a sheepish grin in return. “ShiShiShi, Sorry bout that.” He doesn’t seem that sorry about it, but how could you stay mad at him when he gives that signature sunlight smile? You sigh and start to get up to clean off the sticky residue that your drink left on the front of your chest.
“Wait-Nooooooooooo, Don’t goooooooooo, it’s boring out here, play with me, pleaseeee!” Luffy whined out, throwing his lips out into a pout at the end of his pleas. To make matters worse, he began to wrap his arms around your waist, multiple times, to ensure that you would stay and relieve his boredom. The soda had also splashed on his arms, so it was making you even stickier than before. You heave out another sigh, still getting up, this time dragging along your whiny Captain with you.
“I need to go get clean, Lu, I’m not staying out in the hot sun with this (You gesture at the soaked bikini) all over me. You can join me if you like, though.” You huffed out.
Luffy grinned, happy to do something that wasn’t just running around the ship bored. Still with arms wrapped around your waist, he started to kiss you on any open, bare skin. And with only a bikini on, there were a lot of places he could choose from. Your belly button? Smooch! Your collar bones! PeckPeckPeck. Your hands that were now trying to push him off? Kiss, Kiss, and a Lick.
“ShiShiShi, you taste good, Y/N.” Luffy smacked his lips as he tried to go for another lick off of your fingers. You grab his face as your own starts to heat up, “That’s cause of the drink that you spilled all over me.” You hissed at him, walking faster to get to the showers, you can have some privacy. Luffy just stares at you for a moment before leaning out of your grasp to kiss your lips this time.
“Nah, I think you taste good all the time!”
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❥ Zoro: The top of your head. Zoro isn’t the openly affectionate type, preferring to show his love in more subtle ways and behind closed doors. It took a while for the two of you to start holding hands in public! Nami got a good laugh out of how red Zoro’s face was that day. That is why he finds it easiest to just go for a brisk kiss on the top of your head if you are out in public or near anyone. He can just lean down, plant a kiss, and stand back up straight without most people noticing a thing. Though, He still prefers to kiss you in private…
“One hundred and one, one hundred and two, one hundred and three….” You counted out lazily from your place on top of Zoro’s back. You wanted to spend time with him, but he was still in the middle of working out, so you compromised by including yourself as part of his workout. It was boring, to say the least. After the first hour of just ogling your boyfriend’s pecs and muscles, you thought he was done already, but here he is still on another set.
You began to trace the outline of Zoro’s back, up and down his shoulders, across his neck, down to the middle of his spine, and back up again. He was sweaty, but you didn’t mind it much. Fingers drumming along his tan skin, outlining old battle scars that have yet to fade. Unbeknownst to you, Zoro was slowing just a tiny bit due to your touches, his cheeks turning pink in color. His arms wobbled just a little when he felt you get off his back, he already misses your presence and your touch…
You yawned out loud, stretching out your limbs. You turn to your boyfriend with a sleepy gaze and say, "I'm going to go to sleep ‘ere alright?” You walked over to a corner of the room without waiting for a response and plopped down. Leaning your head back against the wall and letting the slow rocking of the Sunny lull you to a peaceful slumber Zoro’s gaze never once left you, when your warmth left his back. He still had more sets to go, but seeing your sleeping form, he decided, maybe it was time for a small break…
After wiping off all the sweat from his body, Zoro walked over to your corner. He settled down next to you, just watching the soft rise of your chest, the way your head tilts a bit when the Sunny hits a small wave, how you part your lips open so invitingly…
Still… no matter how inviting, he hates to wake you up if he tries something. Instead, he just leans in closer, arms snaking around your shoulder, letting your head fall softly onto him. He spends a good while just sitting there, listening to the creaks of the Sunny and the noises of his crewmates down below. Once he felt his eye starting to droop, his free hand went up to lightly caress your cheek. He stares for a moment, then just as softly kisses the top of your head. Smelling your shampoo, feeling how soft your hair was, and just enjoying your presence. Once done, he nestled his cheek against your hair, pulling you in even closer as he let his tiredness wash over him.
“…I love you, Y/N.”
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❥ Sanji: The back of your hand at first. When he was first courting (simping) you, Sanji would pull out all the stops to try to impress you. By being the best Gentleman he can be; opening doors, pulling out your chair, , helping carry shopping bags, and the works. Alright, alright, he already does this for Nami and Robin and practically every girl he comes across, but he’s serious this time! When you finally started to flirt back, he was over the moon about it, Still wanting to keep up with his Gentlemanly act, he would take your hand and kiss the back of it, every time you went on a date or an outing. Sanji would keep the kisses simple, one on the cheek if you allowed it and most on the back of your hand, as he bows so deeply when meeting with you.
Once you got more comfortable in the relationship, you told Sanji that he didn’t need to keep this act up or keep holding himself back from you. You could obviously tell that Sanji wanted to do more than just simple kisses, but his fears didn’t allow him to push further lest you abandon him too… Now that you’ve reassured him that wasn’t the case, he found a new favorite place to kiss you…
You were both cuddling together in the lounge of the Aquarium. Legs tangled together, pressed right up against Sanji’s Chest, arms squeezing your waist and rubbing your back. You sigh contently, nuzzling up to Sanji, purring when his fingers came up to ruffle your hair, his nails tenderly scratching the base of your scalp. It took you a lot of time and puppy dog eyes to finally convince Sanji to take a break for a day and let someone else do the cooking for once. Franky even offered to host a barbeque in his stead!
However, Sanji insisted on at least helping marinate the meat for the barbeque before he could take a break. You practically had to drag him down to the lounge after he saw Usopp and Luffy messing with the grill. But now that you’re both here, in each other’s arms, the light of the aquarium basking over you, it’s peaceful and quiet. Something you know Sanji definitely needed. While you love your boyfriend for being so chivalrous and helpful, you could tell it takes its toll on him sometimes. He always does something for someone, never takes a break, never dies anything for himself. You were worried that maybe he didn’t know how to treat himself properly.  
Now that you were here, though, you were going to treat him right and make sure that he knew what he meant to the crew and to you most of all. “Y/N… thank you for this..” Sanji murmured, burying his head in the crook of your neck. You giggled when his facial hair tickled you but didn’t move away. Squeezing your arms around him tighter, you say “Of course, my love, anytime you want a break, you come find me, ok?”
Sanji didn’t respond with words but instead gave you faint kisses on your shoulder blades and neck. Trailing up to your ear and back down again. It made you vibrate with desire, but Sanji just held you close and did not advance any further than kissing. To be honest, this was his favorite place to kiss you, at the small junction between your neck and your shoulder. The first time he kissed there, your knees immediately went weak, and you shivered in his hold. He enjoyed having this type of power over you in the sense that he could be the one that made you heat up so much.
It showed him that you desired him, maybe just as much as he desired you. Now wasn’t the time for anything more than just kisses, though; he wanted to stay here, with you in his arms. Just feeling you close and knowing that you loved him was more than enough.
“….Thank you for loving me…”
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missmugiwara · 24 days
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That Was Nothing
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Summary: gn!reader x Gojo // Satoru wants a kiss. Won't you give him one? Oh, pretty please? He's been soooo good.
Warning: 18+, suggestive, smutty, some dubious consent (in the form of kissing), flirting, sexual tension, friends to lovers, sweetheart as a pet name
Note: Once again, the love of my life is insufferable. AND I ONLY WANT HIM MORE.
✦ Word count is 2.5k ✦
"Come on. Just one."
It would be a lie.
A complete and utter lie to say you weren't dumbstruck.
Swiftly, you whipped your head around so fast to face Satoru Gojo it was almost dizzying. The perfect set of lips upon your face parted, breath hitched in your chest, and then you remembered - breathe. Remember to breathe. A heat erupted against your cheeks, and you could only stare with dilated eyes at the sorcerer before you.
Gojo tilted his head to the side innocently and let out a small snicker. He continued on.
"Just one kiss!"
The pleasant smile on Gojo's face was soooo adorable which only made this all the more embarrassing.
He just wanted a kiss.
His words replayed in your head so tantalizingly. Immediately, your eyes bolted to his own set of plump lips - immaculately pink and heaven-sent themselves. Somehow, those lips always seemed to be shining. And they always looked so soft.
So good.
So yummy.
It didn't ever matter what Gojo was doing. He literally looked perfect all the time without even trying. It always stunned you. But come on, you were much stronger than this - or at least you hoped, especially when realization hit that you had been staring for too long now. So in a fluster, your eyes darted from his plump lips to his blindfolded eyes.
"Satoru… come on! Really! You can't do this to me right now!"
If one thing was for certain, it was that Satoru Gojo loved to tease - and loved to tease you more than anyone. It went without saying the man was an expert at it. You were seated at your desk, scrawling away at some paperwork when Gojo nonchalantly waltzed right into the classroom. In a rather proud manner, he strode right over and took a seat on top of the desk. He flashed a cheeky smile (and perhaps a hungry gaze as well, but the blindfold made that difficult to determine). The way Gojo sat with such hubris, towering above you, was as if to make one thing apparent.
You were in for it.
And Gojo never let you go without a good fight. Plus, he was too clever and too fast. Always one step ahead.
For a moment, he stilled to study your frustrated state. He hummed in thought, tapping an index finger to his pink lips before a smirk upturned the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, I see!" he cooed, crossing one leg over the other, "You were looking right at my lips weren't you, sweetheart? I just meant a kiss on the cheek! You're so... bad."
Your cheeks went hot.
Why did Gojo have to talk like that? With the sexy lilt? The slight growl? His voice alone could make you a fumbling mess especially with the way he drawled out bad in such a tone. Gojo was practically the definition of alluring. He was that and so much more. He made flirting look way too effortless, and it amazed you how easily he could seduce you. Did Gojo know how easy it was? He surely must have. In this moment, you had never wanted to slink down your chair so badly in a fit of swooning (and maybe out of pure humiliation as well). How could you let Gojo catch you staring at those pretty lips of his?
It was no fair!
"I wonder," he tilted his head to the side, "how many times have you done that before?"
He was just so damn full of himself.
You gasped. Playfully, you slapped Gojo's arm with a wide smile etched across your face. So much for trying to look mad. Honestly, it was hard to. If you slipped up even for a second it would only fuel his ego further, but unfortunately that ship had already sailed long ago. It didn't help either when he snickered as soon as he registered your smile. He only grinned further, proudly sitting upright again.
"You are such a flirt, Satoru! Stop teasing me!"
"I can't! You're just too cute!" he purred before pausing in thought again, "Now - I found your car keys so don't I deserve a little reward?"
He revealed your car keys, proudly swirling the keyring around his index finger to tease you more.
"A reward? For stealing my keys?" You grinned haphazardly, stepping up from your seat.
In a futile attempt, you reached out to snatch them back. Quickly, Gojo enclosed his hand around the keys and uncrossed his legs to get the momentum he needed in order to lean back. In fact, it was so far back that you both misjudged the spacing between your bodies. Gojo chuckled when you whined at him to stop moving. You slapped your hand on the desk next to his thigh, sliding it past as you tried so desperately to gain balance. It was to no avail because you only leaned further when he pulled farther away.
You both froze.
A heat rose to your cheeks, and a dangerous smirk grew on Gojo's lips. You were perched right between his spread thighs, and he was nearly on his back if not for one hand holding him upright at an angle. If either of you had moved a tiny bit further, you most definitely would have slipped and landed headfirst onto him. The position was already suggestive enough, and the way your groins pressed together reminded you of the close proximity to this beauty of a man.
Gojo's voice was low and breathy, his smug tone so quiet in the air.
"Is this part of my reward?"
Smoothly, ever so smoothly, Gojo did the smallest roll of his hips against yours. Your breath caught in your chest at the heated pressure applied against your lower half. A fire spread throughout your body. His lips were so close you could almost taste his smirk. Immediately, when his hot breath fanned across your mouth again, you practically flung yourself against the nearest wall. Your heart was thundering in your chest, eyes bugged wide, and Gojo laughed wildly because your expression was beyond what he expected at this point.
"It's - it's not!"
Gojo then cackled, giving the keyring another taunting swirl around his finger as he sat up straight again.
How did this all happen?
Well, as usual you rushed into a staff meeting late and flung your belongings down without thought. So of course, for the umpteenth time, you threw a fit when you realized you could not find the damn car keys after the meeting ended. All because you weren't paying attention!
It never helped that Gojo was such an ass. Of course, he was always the one to find where they landed. And of course, he picked them up and clung to them like his life depended on it.
Usually.
Today he tried something a little different.
It was a whole ordeal. As soon as you walked into the room, Gojo flew up from his seat and glided over - exclaiming the meeting could not start until he got a hug from his most intelligent, wonderful, loving friend in the whole world. This overly affectionate display caught you and everyone by surprise. What an unneccessary interruption. A bit weird too, as quirky as he was. You carefully eyed Gojo because it all seemed a tad suspicious. More importantly, what did he want from you (because clearly there was some sort of ulterior motive from the compliments)? So based on everybody staring and you being blatantly late, you decided to just give him his hug and get the meeting on track. Just get it over with. No more embarrassment in front of colleagues, please. Without a care in the world, your arms wrapped around Gojo for his hug.
And then he snuck his hand right into your coat pocket to snatch your keys.
When he revealed them only a moment ago, that's when you knew this was another one of his little games. This time, the game being how to get a kiss from his most intelligent, wonderful, and loving friend in the whole world. God, he was lucky you were so… loving because loving people forgive their asshole friends, right?
"Then can I still get a kiss?"
Of course he said that next. In response to Gojo's question you pouted, giving a small grumble as the answer - no. But that wouldn't stop him from trying. It would never.
"Please? Just a little kiss. Riiiight here." he tapped his cheek, a smug smirk at his lips.
You irked an eyebrow at him.
"After that little stunt?"
"Oh, please, please!" he cried out so facetiously, dropping to his knees and hobbling over to you. Your eyes widened in shock, not expecting such dramatic behavior from the sorceror.
His hands grabbed your hips. He gave them a small shake whilst adorning an overly obvious smile. He could have nearly made you fall, but his playful gestures made you realize this was all just an over-the-top act. An attempt to butter you up by getting you to laugh. So you crossed your arms and boredly looked down at Gojo, fighting the urge to laugh. Gojo now had his arms flung around your waist, his chin pressed into your abdomen as he cutely gazed up at you in this hug.
A second more to think, and a teeny tiny smirk graced your features. Two could play at this game.
"Hm… the mighty Satoru Gojo on his knees?" you giggled, "Mmmm, I think I like that."
"Oh, you like it when I beg, huh?"
If only you had more time to think of a witty response. Shoot, he was damn good.
"…Maybe."
"Keep this up and that's not the only thing I can do that you'd like, sweetheart. Maybe later we'll switch places if you ask nicely."
Your jaw immediately dropped. As usual, Gojo got in the last word, and you had no idea how he kept winning.
"Satoru!"
"You know, I kind of like it when you're a brat."
"Oh, gah - please! At least you're having fun."
"You are too, sweetheart."
His smile never faltered, not even for a second, and his arms were still wrapped around your waist. An obvious pout was at your lips because he was right again. Gojo was flirty and fun, and you were enjoying this. A moment passed as you two just wordlessly stayed in place: a competition seeing who would break first.
Of course, you were the one to break first because you threw your head back and laughed. After all, Gojo was always pulling shit like this, and you always tried to pay him back in kind. He asked for kisses countless times. One thing you could not grasp was why did it catch you off guard every time? Why did it always feel like the first time he ever asked?
You also had to admit you loved indulging Gojo and giving in to his oddly charming ways. After all, he was an old friend. One of the closest friends you ever had especially when you both started off as sorcerers long ago. Oh, the stories you could tell about this man flirting with you. So what was a small kiss on the cheek between two old friends?
Unless.
You kept it up because you so badly desired to be more than friends. But what about him? And he kept asking for a kiss - so what did that mean from him? If only you could think straight. At least for the time being, you could indulge him and yourself. It was a harmless kiss on the cheek after all.
"Fine. But just this once!"
"That's what you said the last time, and the time before that, and the time before -"
"I could just leave! I'll walk home! Do you want it or not?"
"Ooooh yes, please! Very badly!"
"Then get your ass on my desk."
"Didn't know you were into that. Be gentle with me! Oh, should I bend over?"
"Just sit on it!"
As if your face couldn't burn any hotter than it already did. Gojo always made you break the record every time. It was surprising enough that you assumed it could never happen again.
He instantly jumped up (a bit too eagerly) and took a seat back on the desk. This was the easiest way because he was so damn tall. He hummed in response to your smirk, giving a cute little dance of his shoulders. Quite adorably, he leaned his cheek in for you to get a better reach - for him to finally claim his prize. A prize he won so many times. So you brushed your fingers very slowly and very sensuously along his jaw, gently cupping his face in your hand.
"Oh, you are making my heart race right now!"
Another gasp followed by a bashful grin, and you pulled away just as your lips were to touch his cheek.
"Stop it, you're embarrassing me!"
"Ugh, I love it when you whine! Does things to me!"
"Oh my god, Satoru! I am going home!" You released his face from your hands, about to storm off when the sorcerer grinned again.
Gojo firmly caught your wrist midwalk and effortlessly pulled you back toward him. You nearly tripped, forgetting how strong he was. When you were situated and facing him once again, you did a soft tug of your arm as a signal for the provocative man to let go. Gojo only pouted and pulled you again, but harder this time. And this time, you did end up tumbling into him as he caught you - staring at him angrily before you both broke out into laughter.
"Alright, alright! I'll be good!"
Gojo being good? Yeah, right. Could you really trust him to keep his word? You squinted your eyes at that, only to be met with Gojo beaming confidently which was your weakness.
So you let out a quick sigh before stroking the side of his face once more. You puckered your lips, slowly leaning in when -
Gojo turned his head quickly.
So so sooo very quickly.
In doing so, his lips touched yours in the most innocent of kisses. Just a small peck. It was gentle, it was sweet, it was so fast, and it stunned you nonetheless. A tiny smack noise from your lips meeting and parting echoed in your brain on replay. There was a delayed reaction on your part, save for your face heating up, because you stood there completely frozen as he adorned the biggest shit-eating grin.
All a part of Gojo's plan.
"Satoru!" you breathed, fighting an ever-so-obvious grin, "You… you naughty thing!"
Satoru Gojo was bold. It was always just a kiss on the cheek! He had never done that before. He cackled in response, twirling the keyring around his finger once more. Oh yes, and he still had not given those keys back.
"Naughty? That was nothing! Oh, we could get much naughtier next time. Prefer some tongue?"
Oh my god, was he serious?
The way you just stood in stupefied silence made him prattle on.
"No need to be shy now!"
Just when you thought he was done, he always went the extra mile. When he chuckled at your flustered expression and lack of response, he lowered his tone.
"Prefer something a little more than just kissing?"
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demonpiratehuntress · 4 months
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Y/n is a nice young woman and head over heels in love with her boyfriend Ace. Of course he too. But there is this girl on the ship, cute, lovely, accommodating and everything that makes a "cute girl". Everyone likes her and Y/n likes her too, until she starts getting closer to Ace. Like, unexpectedly hugging him from behind, clinging to his arm, giving him a slap on the bottom, jumping up to him like she hadn't seen him in forever. She's really attached to him and even after you very politely expressed that you didn't like it and neither did Ace. But after a short while she continues, whether in front of you or the crew. And at some point Y/n's patience breaks and she literally drags her away from him by her hair. No one ever expected that she could be so aggressive, insulting the girl with the most disgusting words y/n could think of. How does Ace react to this?[I'm soo sorry, it's so long😶‍🌫️ Hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable😵‍💫]
No worries! I actually really like this idea, so I hope you like this answer!
back off
Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader
summary - the ask above, you don't like the new recruit when she gets too close to your boyfriend
warnings - swearing, violence from you at the end
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Ace was too nice. You knew that, he knew that, everyone knew that. He was way too nice and you always told him one day that would get him into trouble. You just didn't know that 'one day' would come so soon.
She was nice at first. Sweet, friendly, helpful. You liked having another woman around, because it gave you a break from the rowdiness of the men. She was great to talk to, and for a while was a good listener and a confidant you trusted. You had no idea where Marco had found her, but she'd apparently wanted to become a pirate so he brought her and Whitebeard allowed her to join, thinking it would be good for you. And it was.
For a while.
You started noticing her shift in behaviour when the crew stopped by an island to take a break and just relax, and you'd suggested hitting the beach with her.
"Will Ace be coming?" She asked, trying to mask the excitement in her voice but clearly failing.
You raised an eyebrow, "He's my boyfriend, so probably. He's clingy."
"That's so cute!"
You smiled, ignoring her wistful expression, "It is. He is."
Ace did join you not long after, surprising you by running up to you from behind and lifting you off your feet. You squealed in surprise and laughed, before your eyes widened when you saw the water getting closer and closer.
"Babe, no!"
"Yes," he answered happily, and you just knew he was grinning like the little devil he was.
Then you felt nothing but cold water, and when you resurfaced you gasped for air before shooting the cackling commander a death glare.
"Ace!"
"Sorry, babe, I had to!"
You laughed and shook your head, before witnessing one of the most uncomfortable and infuriating sights you'd ever seen. (Other Name) ran up to your boyfriend, jumped onto his back and locked her legs around his waist. She giggled innocently like that was a totally normal thing to do, telling him that friends gave each other piggyback rides sometimes.
You weren't so sure she saw him as a friend, but you grit your teeth and sucked it up anyway, not wanting to ruin the mood. Ace was confused, and also uncomfortable because he didn't really like anyone but you doing that to him, but he also said nothing. But for him, it was just because he was too sweet to speak out.
At dinner it was even worse.
She shoved herself between you and Ace, running her hand along his arm as she smiled and rambled on about something you weren't listening to.
"(Other Name)," you tried to stay calm, forcing a smile, "Ace and I were talking. Could you please move?"
"Oh, sorry!" She smiled at you, but didn't seem very sorry. Then she had the nerve to get up, move around your boyfriend, and force herself between Marco and Ace.
You grit your teeth again, but said nothing. Everyone was having fun. No need to ruin it with your anger, right? Besides, she knew he was yours, right? He knew that too. You trusted him.
You just didn't trust her...
Afterwards, Ace noticed your sour mood as you both walked to your shared room. He slid his hand into yours and squeezed it, looking at you worriedly.
"You okay babe?"
"I'm fine," you glared ahead. "Nothing's wrong."
He frowned, "But-"
You whirled on him when you were both in the room, "Why aren't you stopping her? I know you're nice, Ace, but there are limits."
His eyes widened, "Babe-"
"No, you're not even trying to tell her to stop! You always look uncomfortable, but you won't ever tell her to go away and stop it! Do you really have that little respect for our relationship?!" As soon as you said it, you regretted it. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"I know," he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you, "I'm sorry. I know I'm too nice to say no. I promise I'll work on it." He kissed the top of your head. "I know she's bothering you, and she's bothering me too. So tomorrow, I'll tell her to stop, okay?"
"Okay," you whispered, smiling softly and burying your face in his neck.
The next morning, he did actually speak to her about it. He told her that she was making you both uncomfortable and that she needed to stop because he was already taken.
Her response?
She waited a few days, only to ramp up her inappropriate and infuriating behaviour.
"Hi Ace!" She greeted him at lunch one day with a smack to his rear.
That's when the atmosphere changed. The crew became nervous, knowing just how you might react to that. You had stopped walking, your eyes narrowing at the brave - and apparently stupid - girl, fury like no other building up inside. You were about to blow.
What the crew expected to happen, was far from what actually happened.
You stormed over to her and grabbed her by her hair, yanking hard to get her away from a stunned Ace. No one moved as you dragged her by her hair to the side of the ship.
"Do you know what 'no' means, you hairbrained little bitch?" You snarled, shoving her against the railing. You pulled her hair a little harder, and she yelped in pain. "Do you know what 'stay away from my boyfriend' means, or do I have to fucking beat it into you?"
The entire crew was silent, some watching in awe, others watching in terror. Ace felt a little bit of both, none of them had ever seen you like this but it was so incredibly hot he didn't want to stop you. It was sweet that you were fighting in his honour, but it was also so so sexy, and his mind was already drifting.
"Look at you, so pathetic and stupid, whining like a little baby," you sneered, unable to stop because all of this had just been building up. "Not so bubbly and sweet now, are you? Maybe this'll teach you to grope other women's boyfriends!" You pulled harder and she whimpered. "Such a whiny little thing. Won't miss you here." Then, casually, you threw her overboard into the ocean.
That's when everyone remembered how to move, and almost all of them rushed over to see (Other Name) flailing around in the water below. You turned and walked away, seething but trying to calm down.
Immediately Ace was on you, gripping your waist and pressing heated kisses to any part of you that his lips could reach. He kissed along your neck, along your shoulders, along your jawline...anything to show just how hot your outburst had been to him.
"That was so, so sexy babe," he was muttering as he kissed you. "You're so unbelievably hot. Can't believe you're all mine. Damn."
You blushed furiously, already over your little outburst. She was forgotten, your mind only on Ace and the kisses he was drowning you in. Then you gasped and laughed when he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, marching you to the bedroom.
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goldfish-afterhours · 4 months
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Genshin Characters as Fairy Tales
Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao x Gn!Reader
Type/Genre: Bulleted headcanons, angst/fluff
Warnings: Not all fairy tales have happy endings—major character death
Notes: Man why are fairy tales so sad
Diluc
Cinderella
On the night of your 18th birthday, your father holds a grand masquerade ball, inviting everyone in the kingdom
You, however, had little to no interest in such things. While the party was happening inside, you decided to take a stroll in the gardens
Who knew there would be monsters lurking in the dark that got past the guards?
Before it could devour you, someone sliced its head off with one fell swoop
Standing in front of you was a man with red hair, a black masquerade mask obscuring his eyes
You thanked him and offered him a reward, but he declined. Upon seeing your disappointed expression, he suggested just spending the night talking with him, since he didn’t know anyone at the ball
The two of you sit outside, talking about anything and everything as the night grows later and later
Just as the clock struck twelve, the masked man jumps to his feet, muttering something about how he has to get home
You try to persuade him to stay, or at least tell you his name, but he dashes off so fast you can’t catch up to him
All he left behind was your memory of his soft smile…and a black mask, dropped in the grass
You scour the entire kingdom for him, holding up the mask to every person you meet in hopes you find him, but to no avail
But a crazy idea pops in your head
Deep into the night, you stroll down the main street, unarmed. Just as you expected, a group of hoodlums threaten you, demanding money in exchange for your life
And just as you expected, the man with red hair returns to save you again
For saving your life twice, you insist on giving him a grand reward
You bring him, the son of a deceased and disgraced ex-government official, to the castle, and the two of you live happily ever after <3
“I was afraid you didn’t want to see me again. But putting yourself in danger was much too reckless.”
“That’s how much I wanted to see you again~”
Kaeya
The Little Mermaid
Kaeya, a merman, falls in love with you, a pirate
He’s always swimming beside your ship, listening to you sing with your shipmates of treasure, of good alcohol, of friendship, of love
Gives away his voice to have legs and be with you. He doesn’t want to just listen to your songs—he wants to be the one you sing them to
Cruelly, you fall in love with someone else
His brother, in an attempt to save Kaeya, presents him with a dagger, saying if he is able to kill you then he’ll be able to return to the sea as a merman
But how can Kaeya kill the one he gave up everything for?
How can he even dare imagine hurting the one he loved with his entire being, that he would be willing to walk on glass everyday for?
Throws the dagger into the water. As the sun rises, he watches you, laughing together with your lover, as he melts into seafoam
And as much as it pains him, at least he can see you happy one last time
You don’t see him as he is carried away by the wind
“No matter what…I hope you live happily.”
Childe
Little Red Riding Hood
He’s the Big Bad Wolf, and you’re an herbalist making your deliveries of medicine to your patient in the forest
At first, he’s too nervous to approach you, afraid he would scare you away
But one day, when he sees you shivering from the frosted air, he steels himself enough to offer you his red scarf
The smile you gave him as you wrapped the scarf around yourself was almost enough to heal the years of loneliness from his isolation in the woods
The two of you become friends: Childe shows you all the best spots to pick herbs, and you tell him stories of the outside world
The villagers fear him, a man-eating beast, so he never ventures out of the forest
Childe loves the sound of your voice, and he loved listening to your stories, especially this one story about how the Sun and Moon were lovers in a tragedy, separated in the sky
Protects you from the hostile wild animals in the forest
When the two of you realize you were in love with each other, you made no haste in moving into his cozy cottage
But when the villagers realized their beloved herbalist was in the clutches of the detested wolf, they all swore you had been tricked
They stormed the forest, armed
You come back to your cottage from picking herbs, just in time to see the villagers point a rifle at him
Even with your skills, there is nothing you can do but cradle him in your arms as his blood stains the grass red
“C-Can you finish the rest of the story? I want to know…if the Sun and the Moon ever meet again.”
Zhongli
Sleeping Beauty
In the wild overgrowth once known as the country Liyue, there exists a legend of an almighty god who had fallen into a deep slumber
To save your country, you set out to search for this missing god
The terrain is harsh, overrun with trees and thistles and bushes blocking your every way
But occasionally, you will stumble upon a statue, vines and moss adorning the structure, helping you to believe that perhaps there really was a civilization who lived here in the past
The wild guides you up the cliffs, into a cave where you find a dragon sleeping, his breath slow and shallow
There was something so lonely, so sad about this sleeping dragon, trapped deep in the country of a long-gone civilization, only able to wait for someone to come
You put your hands on the sides of his face, and, as if to reward him for all his years of waiting and to tell him he is no longer alone, you kiss his forehead
The moment you do, his scales scatter away like droplets in a summer rainstorm
You were no longer holding a dragon, but cupping the face of a man
His eyelids fluttered open, revealing amber eyes that glowed like the moon in the darkness of the cave, and you knew you had found your missing god
“Oh…you have found me. How long I’ve been waiting for you.”
Xiao
Beauty and the Beast
With each passing day, Xiao can feel himself transforming more into a monster
The weight of his sins grew heavier and heavier, covering him with ashes and feathers
Soon, there were rumours of a half bird beast flying over the village at night, searching for its next meal
You, an orphan that had been treated as an outcast since birth, was chosen by the villagers to be the sacrifice to quell the beast’s anger and hunger
But after being brought to his decaying castle, Xiao makes it clear he has no interest in eating you
In fact, he gives you free reign in his home, allowing you to go wherever you pleased
At first, he tries to scare you, tries to get you to stay away from him
But when you see him feeding the chipmunks outside, and the songbirds feel safe enough around him to perch on his shoulders, you no longer feel afraid
The two of you slowly warm up to each other. Xiao’s favourite thing to do is listen to you read
When he can’t fall asleep at night from the pain, he asks you to read him stories so he can fall asleep to the sound of your soft voice
You come to realize he’s not a monster but a hurt, scared boy who only wants to wake up from this nightmare he’s been trapped in
The two of you enjoyed your peaceful life together, until one day a hero from your village stormed Xiao’s castle, determined to either save or take vengeance for you
Xiao, who flew over the village every night to make sure no danger came to the villagers, could not bring himself to defend himself from this naive boy
As you hold his still body, you kiss him goodbye
To both you and the hero’s shock, the feathers stabbed into Xiao’s body dispersed, swirling into the sky
The feathers kept flying away until the beast you were holding in your arms became human again
“You’ve awoken me from a terrifying dream. Thank you.”
-
please comment/reblog if you’ve enjoyed! <3
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asliceofzosan · 6 months
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i've seen figure skater sanji and hockey player zoro before. idk if its been explored but i'd love to put it out there:
hockey player sanji (specifically goalie bc he desperately wants to avoid being checked) and then pairs skater zoro.
pairs skater zoro's long time partner has been nami. though many people ship them together a Lot, they just know each other super well. Well enough to try dating and both of them realized they don't swing that way. in fact, it makes them a really good team. they fought long and hard to claim top spots in competitions because they portray a chemistry that's separate from the rest. plus zoro can carry nami like she weighs fucking nothing. so their lifts are so much more dynamic. they even have a whole next to impossible combination that they're trying to get the ISU to name after them officially.
sanji plays for the East Blue Straw Hats in the Grand Line Hockey League – a formidable rookie group that took down lots of big names in the preseason. they want to make it all the way to the postseason playoff finals but always seem to fall short. but theyre so determined. they reignited a lot of old sparks that were no longer there for old fans and brought in new and curious fans. sanji is the starter goalie and a damn good one at that. it makes sense bc goalies are often doing splits on the ice just to make a save. he's perfected the technique that utilizes just his legs to make saves that make the crowd go fuckin insane.
we have the usual "i booked the rink to practice before you did" trope but a little more spice. in actuality, sanji loves watching pairs skating competitions. his favorite pair rn is franky and robin (mostly for robin). and he adamantly does not want to admit to anyone that he watches zoro and nami's routines much more frequently. (and if anyone asks, he always says its bc of nami. its never just bc of nami.) and zoro's besties with luffy so he always watches their matches even if he barely understands the rules. and he definitely does not stare at a certain blond starter goalie most of the match thats fucking ridiculous
one day zoro and sanji are invited to do one of those comparison videos between hockey players and figure skaters. both get to laugh at the other even Attempting to do their sport. zoro frankly looks ridiculous in all of sanji's usual goalie get-up. and sanji couldn't land an euler to save his life. the video producer suggests they try a simple pairs skating routine. sanji is like "oh i couldn't do that–hEY WHAT THE FUCK MOSSHEAD PUT ME DOWN" because zoro lifted sanji and had him sat on his shoulder like it was normal.
zoro smirks, "you might be lighter than nami, actually. wanna be my new partner?"
sanji knees him in the stomach before skating away while blushing so hard he could melt the ice beneath him.
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snailpaste · 2 months
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RORONOA ZORO! NSFW ALPHABET
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LETTERS: Q, R, S, V
PAIRING: Roronoa Zoro x AMAB! GN! Reader
MINORS DNI!
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
To be honest, Zoro doesn't have much of a preference, but does prefer the two of you to be able to take things at your own leisure. Unfortunately living on a ship with several other people leaves relatively little room for privacy...
That being said, if it's a "we have five minutes but we're both horny" situation, Zoro is taking it- it doesn't matter if it's up against an alley wall with his hand clamped over your mouth, you taking him pressed against the steamed-up shower wall while you clean after a sparring match, or the two of you sneaking off to a hull storeroom before docking.
Even during quickies Zoro makes sure he takes his time with you, running his calloused hands over your muscles, pulling you down into hot and frantic kisses and rolling his hips in just the right way to get your eyes rolling back and your cock twitching. 
Quickie or not, by the end of it, one, or more commonly both of you is left up a thouroughly fucked out, panting mess
more under cut! ->
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
There are few times when Zoro'll actively approach you with things to try out, he’s rather vanilla in that respect, but he’s still game to experiment with pretty much anything you suggest.
You want to tie him up? Sure. You want to edge him until his tough exterior cracks and he whimpers and begs for you? Why not. You want to switch things up and have him dom the fuck out of you? No problem.
Zoro naturally takes risks, and that applies to his sex life, but it does bring out the competetive streak in him, “Let’s see if you can keep those moans to yourself without anyone outside catching us,” will progress until he has you writhing under his touch with tears of pleasure in your eyes, seeing just how much you can take.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
It’s a flip of a coin with Zoro. While he does have amazing stamina, he also has a knack for getting incredibly sleepy after he’s come.
You can expect either: as many sessions as you want, lasting for as long as you want, or a single mind-numbing orgasm before he's yawning and cuddling up on your chest for a nap (even if his/your cock is still inside)
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Zoro tries to keep some semblance of control at all times, starting off with a few contained grunts or murmuring soft praise into your ear. But the closer he gets to his release, the harder it is for him to control himself, and little moans begin to slip out of him.
If you’re in control Zoro is far more vocal. His normal grunts will turn into muffled whimpers and breathy moans and pleas. Playing with his chest or teasing him will have him biting his lip and trying to hide the flush that covers his cheeks. Fist your hand in his hair and tug it back to nip at his throat- he’ll whine your name.
On the ship Zoro isn't that loud, he doesn't like the idea of anyone being able to hear him, or you for that matter. He generally manages to control his volume, and will either kiss you or shove his fingers in your mouth if you're getting a little too... excited
Zoro is at his loudest right after he cums. Right before his hips have stilled and he's spilling his cum deep inside you/over your hand, he's tensed and dead silent, hips twitching and cock throbbing- but following that he let's out the longest, hottest moan right into your ear to let you know how good you make him feel.
A/N: Please note this is a repost of a work as I deleted the previous in the process of moving accounts (:
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twinterrors29 · 4 months
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the specific Naboo religious sect that Padme belonged to believed very strongly in reincarnation
so the first time Darth Vader is introduced to Princess Leia of Alderaan once her father finally relents and allows her to take over his position in the Senate, when he takes note of her resemblance and looks up her birth date, his first thought is not "Padme's daughter survived"
it's "Padme reincarnated as the Princess of Alderaan"
he finds this conclusion fitting, and of course immediately pledges his loyalty to her
Leia doesn't know what this menace to society's deal is, and honestly doesn't care, and decides to use this to her advantage by telling her father
Bail, of course, is biting his nails thinking that Vader has figured them out, but thankfully no
this is about the time that Sabe and her fellow handmaidens show up, so Vader introduces them to Leia and they all naturally reach the same conclusion
when Ben distantly senses the disturbance in the Force and drags the whole Lars family off to come investigate, Darth "Anakin Is Dead" Vader takes one look at young Luke and doesn't even try to ask about his birth date (or, conveniently, his last name) before assigning him as "Anakin Skywalker Reincarnated"
Ben, hidden in the next room with Bail, is face-palming as hard as possible to try to distract himself from that particular shit show
and now that 'Padme' and 'Anakin' are in the same room, Vader of course tries to ship them, with Sabe's passive support
Bail, sweating: maybe,,, we should not encourage that,,,
Vader: Why.
Bail, full of hypocritical shit: uh,,, he's not suitable, for the future Queen of Alderaan
which only serves to offend Vader, because what, Baby Me isn't good enough for Baby My Wife now?
so Bail throws in a faked relationship with a certain spice freighter captain he hired on the spot to fill the role of his daughter's secret boyfriend
before Vader can get upset about Baby Padme dating someone who isn't Baby Anakin, Sabe eyeballs this dude with no official birth records and asks, what DID happen to Kenobi? or maybe that Captain Rex fellow from the war?
causing Bail to nearly stroke out, as he KNOWS that neither of those men are even dead, and in fact one of them is choking on his spit in the other room as he listens in!
(this fake-dating effort additionally backfires, not that anyone realizes it yet, because both twins start actually dating this scruffy-looking nerf-herder)
of course Vader immediately questions why Sabe suggested that Captain Solo might be Kenobi, and got hit with Sabe's "well, Skywalker was always psychosexually fixate on Kenobi, and all of us knew he was the hot one even if Padme settled for Skywalker"
Vader: ...What. Was that thing you said. About Skywalker.
Sabe: yeah, Skywalker literally couldn't shut up about the guy, even while he was having sex with his wife, luckily she was into that if you know what I mean
Vader: ...
Vader: no, that is the perfectly normal level of interest to have in Kenobi
Sabe, remembering the way Darksiders always seemed to fixate on Kenobi: ...uh-huh, riiiight
Vader decides he's Not Dealing With That, and pours that energy into his fixation on Finding Kenobi in order to kill him about it
Ben, one too-thin wall away, is seriously considering letting that happen so he doesn't have to hear any more of this
but, of course, eventually Sidious notices Vader's interest in the young Senator Organa
and Sheev Palpatine was, interestingly enough, from the same sect as Padme
which means that he quickly puts together what Vader has concluded about Leia as a reincarnation of Padme Amidala
but unlike Sabe (and Vader, who has seriously deluded himself), he is keenly aware that Anakin Skywalker can't have actually reincarnated into that farm boy who's spending all his time with the Senator now
so he's able to (correctly, for once) conclude that Luke must be Anakin and Padme's kid, who somehow survived all these years
and since the child survived...
well, he starts to eye Sabe a little more closely, and wonder how he can fit this into his plans for the galaxy...
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minminyoonjii · 3 months
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What about minchan smut where they go out to a convenience store together to grab snacks for their movie night only to bump into someone and instantly fall head over heels with them and end up bringing them back to their house and railing them into oblivion turning them cock drunk and brain dead?
-🤍🦇 if I may
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❤️Ultimate Masterlist
💜Rules and Guidelines
🕯Summary: Movie night snacks are always essential. Who knew bumping into a wall would lead to this?
💛AN
Definitely, 🤍🦇-nonnie hehe. First fic after a while, I hope it's good.
🌹CW
Cunnilingus|Oral Sex|Protection Used|Blowjob|Oral Fixation|Pussy Drunk! Lee Minho|Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Dacryphilia|Needy! Reader|Slow to Rough Sex|Switch! Lee Minho|Spitroasting|Aftercare
💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.
🍄Wordcount: 2.3K
"Hyung, did you get everything?" Minho asked, hooking his chin over Chan's shoulder. "Looks about everything. Are you sure this is enough pudding?" he teased, running his fingers through Minho's hair. Minho tsk, nipping Chan's ear, "Very funny, hyung," he muttered. Chan chuckled, "If that's all, we should be good then," he said, walking ahead, facing Minho. A firm grunt escaped his lips when he bumped into something. 
You winced, thankful that the cans you held didn't fall on you. Chan's eyes widened, "Oh shit, sorry," he apologised, helping you up. You coughed up a laugh, "It's fine, but to my defence. I didn't expect a walking wall." you said, eyeing Chan's build. He chuckled, rubbing his neck sheepishly, "Yikes, sorry again," he said, picking up the things you dropped. Minho snorted at his boyfriend's blush-tinted cheeks. 
Chan gulped, taking a good look at you as he handed the cans. You smiled, oblivious to his blatant stare, "So, movie night snacks or just stock up?" you asked, gesturing to the handful of snacks. Minho blinks, hitting Chan's shoulder subtly, "Movie night, what about you? That's quite a number of canned fruits," he rambled, snapping out of his daze. Minho chuckled inwardly, "Don't you think it's rude to question a person's grocery choices, hyung?" he teased, rubbing Chan's ears. 
You giggled, "Well if he's being rude, then I'm ruder for bringing it up," you said, taking Minho aback. Minho's jaw dropped into a slight agape before he blinked out of it, "I didn't mean like that, I just-," he said, flustered by your comment. Chan chuckled, rubbing Minho's back, "Deep breaths, baby," he said, egging Minho on. Minho scoffed, biting his tongue before burying his face in the crook of Chan's neck. You cooed, "Aww, I'm sorry if I made you shy," you said, looking at Minho sympathetically.
"It's okay," Minho mumbled, peeking out briefly. Chan felt his heartthrob, "Since you have the drinks and we have the snacks, why don't you come to our place for a movie?" he suggested, letting his emotions take the lead. You freeze, "Huh?" you questioned, wondering if you heard wrong. Chan cleared his throat, "I meant what I said, would you like to hang out with us?" he asked, his fingers over Minho's firm arms wrapped around his waist.
You bit your lips, weighing the pros and cons until you decided 'Fuck it, they're hot,'. With a deep inhale, "I'm down," you agreed, smiling at them. Chan mimicked one back, "Great, our car is out front. If you don't mind we can ride it together," he prompted. You nodded your head, "Fine by me," you said, laying your purchases on the counter. Minho turned to face you, "My name's Minho," he said, waiting for yours in return. You chuckled, answering him, "And you?" you questioned, looking at Chan.
"Oh, I'm Chan. I didn't realise the late introduction," he said, carrying the items. You shrugged, "Me neither," you said, growing comfortable with their presence by the second.
"Nice place you got here," you said, setting the ingredients aside. Minho hummed, "It's very minimal," he said, pouring the snacks into containers. You nodded, "I bet your rooms showcase your personalities well," you said, mixing up the punch. Chan nodded, "Our shared bedroom has its spin, but if you really want to know our personalities I suggest a visit to our studio," he said, taking a sip of the punch you made. Puzzles connected in your head, 'They're a couple', you thought.
Minho stood far back behind you, instinctively eyeing the curve of your ass. He tried his hardest to look at something else but he wanted nothing more than to watch your bottom meet his palm. Chan was holding his composure slightly better than Minho, "What were the actual plans for your night?" he asked. You hummed, tasting the punch from the ladle, "Casual night in with shows to binge," you said, deeming the punch sweet enough. 
Chan nodded, feeling the drool pool below his tongue at the sight of your glossy lips, "Self-care is important," he said, bringing the things to a coffee table. You purse your lips, "Yup," you said, knowing damn well you were going to spend the night edging your aching cunt. A deep exhale escaped your lips as you tried to shake the idea away. Minho took a seat next to you, "What movie would you recommend to us?" he asked, subtly reaching his arm over your head. 
You hummed, "Well there was this show I wanted to start," you said, clicking it. Chan smiled, "Good choice, I think I heard it from somewhere," he said, getting comfortable as he took a seat. All was going well until you remembered why this show was infamous. You gripped the glass, staring ahead. Chan shifted, crossing his leg over the other to hide his growing semi. Minho took deep breaths through his nose, shutting his eyes every once in a while to distract himself from the sheer pornographic moans.
A weak whimper escaped your lips, body heated both from the alcohol and the initial neediness you had. Chan gulped, hearing your sweet whimper over the actor's grunts. Your thighs trembled, pleading for any form of pressure to subdue the craving in your abdomen. Minho grunted, turning down the show "Do you want our help?" he rasped, hair tousled from how much he was brushing it back to distract himself. 
You blinked, "Huh?" you questioned, voice barely above a whisper. Minho got on his knees, rubbing your calves, "Do you want us to help you, princess?" he whispered, careful to not make you uncomfortable. You gulped, embarrassment running through your veins at the thought of you being so utterly obvious, "Please?" you questioned, thoughts running through your mind. Chan stroked your hair, "Don't worry, we'll stop the moment you tell us to. Just give us the word and we'll back off," he reassured, patting your shoulder.
Minho nodded, "We just want to help you, sweet thing," he said, letting you rest your palm on the top of his head. You gulped, undeniably horny at the thought of two gorgeously looking men prioritising your consent. Chan hummed, "You can make the first move, little one," he said, tracing circles on your shoulder. You pressed your thighs close, "Kiss?" you asked, turning to face Chan. He chuckled, cupping your cheek, "Close your eyes for me," he instructed, pressing his lips against yours.
You moaned into the kiss, feeling his plush full lips sync with yours. Chan groaned, slipping in his tongue, teasing the roof of your mouth with the tip. Minho grunted a whine, nipping at the fabric of your tights. "Shit, angel. You kiss so sweet," Chan chuckled, pulling back. Low heavy breaths huffed between you, and Chan couldn't help but lick your spit-glossed lip. You shivered a moan, lifting your hips for Minho to tug down your bottoms.
Minho wasted no time to mark your supple skin, nipping and sucking deep bruising bites. Chan cooed at his boyfriend's possessiveness, "Can't leave the kitten to his own devices for too long, princess. Why don't you tighten that grip of yours?" he prompted, kissing down your neck. Your cunt ached to be touched, soaking through those skimpy panties you wore on a whim. You tugged on Minho's roots, bringing his face closer to your warm pussy.
Chan removed his top, defined muscles on sight, "May I?" he asked, brushing his fingers up your top. You nodded, spreading your legs further for Minho to comfortably bury his face against your panties. Chan gripped your waist, pushing the fabric up to show your cute tummy, his thoughts spun at the idea of his cock bulging at that specific spot. "Fuck me," he mumbled, tugging the fabric past your head to admire your body. 
Minho worked his tongue the moment his face was inches from your clothed cunt. Drool pooled his mouth, soaking the panties you wore. He pushed the fabric aside only to wrap his lips around your throbbing clit. You bit back a squeal at the sudden zap of pleasure electrifying your abdomen. Minho moaned, hooking your thighs over his shoulders, "So fucking pretty," he grunted, licking down your slit. You whined, arching your back into his mouth "Ah! ah, ah," you moaned, breathlessly. 
Chan groped your chest, lips sucking around your sensitive nipples, "They're so hard, princess," he groaned, flicking his tongue. Tears pooled in your eyes, pleasure swimming in your head. Minho shifted lower, using his nose to press on your swollen clit as his tongue stretched out your hole. Your back arched at the intrusion, "There, please, please, please," you pleaded, clawing your nails into the sofa below. Minho huffed out a growl, adding his fingers with his tongue.
A silent scream escaped your lips as your orgasm broke over the edge. "Shit, shit, fuckk," you dragged, moaning. Minho licked your orgasm clean, sucking on the entrance of your cunt. Chan pulled off your chest, "I need to see that expression again, princess," he groaned, manhandling your body across the sofa. You moaned at his strength, arms wrapping around his firm thighs, "Chan," you whined, looking up.
Minho groaned at the aches in his knees, "Hyung,  the condom?" he slurred, shaking off the pussy drunk haze. Chan leaned back, grabbing a box, "Here, baby," he said, handing them to Minho. You furrowed your eyebrows, "Fuck, I forgot to ask if you both are clean," you grumbled, the underlying pleasure still clouding your mind. Chan chuckled, brushing your hair back, "We are. I'm guessing you are too?" he asked, kissing your forehead.
You nodded, "Got a test a few weeks back," you said, eyeing Chan's clothed bulge. Chan followed your line of sight, "Ask and you can have it, little one," he said, holding your jaw to face him. You bit back a whine, "Please, Chan. Let me suck your big cock, please," you begged, needing to feel the weight of his throbbing cock on your tongue. Minho moaned at the sight of your curved back, finally able to touch the mounds of your ass, "Sweetheart, this might just kill me," he grunted, slicking his wrapped cock against your folds.
Chan cooed, stripping off his boxers, "Such a sweet little girl," he praised, stroking his cock. You whimpered, slacking your jaw, sticking your tongue out. Minho spread your folds, lining the tip of his cock with your stretched hole, "Relax for me, darling," he whispered, pushing inch by inch into your cunt. You moaned, pressing your cheek against Chan's thigh, "Fuck," you hiccuped, crying at the burning white heat stretching your ribbed walls.
Minho grunted, leaning forward to pant against your shoulder, "She's so fucking tight, hyung," he chuckled, easing his length with gentle strokes for you to get used to. You mewled, urging Chan to shift closer so you could wrap your lips around his throbbing cockhead. Chan cooed, "Aww, don't cry, princess. My cock isn't going anywhere," he said condescendingly, tapping her bottom lip with his leaking slit. You whined, sucking on his sensitive cockhead, melting at the sheer taste of his precum hitting your taste buds.
Chan threw his head back, "That's it, gorgeous," he growled, thrusting his cock firmly. Minho groaned in tandem, dragging his hips to make languid thrusts. He smirked, hitting your ribbed gummy walls "Just look at her fall apart," he grunted, angling his thrusts just the way you needed it. You choked on a sob, bobbing your head to Chan's pace as he held your hair firm. Chan growled, "Uhm, she takes it so fucking well," he praised, feeling the bulge of his cock sliding in and out of your throat.
Your face slicked with tears and drool, broken moans muffled by Chan's girth filling your mouth. Minho slipped two fingers into his mouth, drenching them in spit before reaching down to rub figure eights’ on your sensitive clit. A muffled cry vibrated through your throat around Chan's cock. He groaned, feeling the air get knocked out of him as your throat convulsed around his cockhead. Your body quivered, teetering at the brink. You sniffled, peeking up at Chan's half-lidded eyes.
Minho noticed, quickening his pace when your warm pulsing walls tightened around his cock, "Is our sweet princess about to cum? Go on and cum for us," he grunted, gripping your waist to lay merciless pounding. Chan felt his knees buckled when you sank your nails into his thighs, "Fuck! Gonna, shit, cum," he growled, thrusting his whole length down your throat. You choked, sputtering around his orgasm, trying your hardest to swallow every last drop.
Chan hissed through his teeth, easing his cock out, "Good girl," he chuckled, pushing back his sweat-drenched hair. Minho nosed your neck, marking your skin, "Please, please, princess. Need to feel you clench around my cock," he rambled, grunting into your ear. You whimper, moans falling freely as your body gave out, abdomen tense when your orgasm broke "Fuck, fuck, ah," you mewled, clenching hard around Minho's girth. 
He choked on a groan, veins on his neck apparent, "Oh fuck," he keened, filling the condom to the brim. Chan chuckled, kissing you to ease down your high, "Such a perfect little girl," he hummed, pampering kisses all over your face. Minho lifted his head, kissing your cheek, "Took my cock perfectly, princess," he praised, shifting to pressing his lips against yours. You weakly mimicked his movement. Chan brushed your hair back, "I've got a warm bath prepared, do you want to wash up now or more kisses?" he asked.
You gave him a fucked out smile, "Kisses, please," you whispered, growing sleepy by the second. Minho grunted, slipping his cock from your warm walls, "Let me help you up, angel," he rasped, lifting you onto his lap. Chan smiled, standing in front of Minho with your back facing his chest, "More kisses, as granted," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss you until you're satisfied. 
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Rain-Soaked Kisses
Ship: Steve Harrington x fem!Mayfield!reader
Summary: Steve hates storms but loves the rain—just another oxymoron of his life, like the secret the kids are trying so very hard to dig up.
Word Count: 6,582 words
Warnings: fluff!!!, sappy & romantic Steve, scheming Dustin & Max, healthy Mayfield sibling relationship, Billy mention, lumax sprinkles, secret relationship, friends to lovers, byler sprinkles, jancy sprinkles
Note: Told in part from the perspective of the kids! Written because it's storming where I am, and I love this weather so much.
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☟ Continue below the fold ☟
"Who could he possibly be dating? There's not a girl in Hawkins that wants to go out with him!"
"Well, clearly one of them does!"
Dustin sighed, taking in Max's exclamation. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Steve had stopped complaining about bad dates and girls who left quickly; Robin reported he'd completely stopped talking about Leah and Heidi and Helen and the five other girls he'd been on-and-off again with; he walked around with a dopey, happy smile on his face all the time; and he was less and less reliable for rides, instead going on dates with a girl who's name he always pretended to forget.
As impossible as the idea seemed, Dustin had to admit it was a logical conclusion.
But who?
"Robin?" Max suggested.
Dustin shook his head. "Impossible. Steve steadfastedly refuses to date her. It's not Nancy again, is it?"
"Nope—saw her with Jonathan yesterday." Max huffed a sigh. "Maybe we have to...think outside the box more?"
"Who's outside the box? Who hasn't he already tried to date and failed miserably at dating?" Dustin demanded.
Max was silent for a moment too long. Then she said, "Alright, I don't know. I can't think of anyone who would actually go out with him."
"Exactly, neither can I," Dustin said. "We've got to watch him. We need to know who this is."
~❊~
But tracking Steve and his mystery girl down was much, much harder than either Dustin or Max had anticipated.
Without Steve driving them around, getting around town took twice as long as it needed, either in the attempts to find someone to drive them or in walking themselves everywhere. Nancy was either busy or with Jonathan most of the time, which ruled out Jonathan as well, and Robin still didn't have her license.
During yet another slow afternoon of trying and failing to put together the pieces of where Steve was going and with who, the phone rang. Dustin and Max both looked up quickly, scrambling over furniture and Dustin's new cat to beat each other to the phone.
Dustin got to it first. "Hello?"
"Hey, Dustin? It's Robin."
"Yeah, I know it's you, Robin, I can recognize your voice."
"Now's your chance."
"What?"
"Steve just left work—he said he's going on a date. Now's your chance to go find out who he's going out with!"
"Oh, shit!" Dustin turned to Max. "Steve's going on a—"
"I heard," she said. "Does she know where he's going?"
"Where's he going, Robin, did he say?"
"A restaurant, and he changed into a really nice outfit before he left here. And by nice, I mean really nice. Like fanciest restaurant in town kind of nice. Whoever this girl is, he really wants to impress her. And he's obsessed with her, too, he's been smiling all day from excitement."
Dustin scoffed. "And you didn't call us before he left?! Now we have to find out where he's going and how to get there!"
"Well, it's not like I could call you talk about him in front of him! Besides, we do know where he's going. What's the fanciest restaurant in town?"
"Enzo's," Dustin realized. "That's where he's taking her."
"I can guarantee it. If you go to Enzo's, he's going to be there. I'd go myself, but Steve and I'll both get fired if at least one of us isn't at the store right now."
"Thanks, Robin!"
"Good luck, guys!"
Dustin turned around to give Max the details, but she cut him off. "I heard. Enzo's."
"All we have to do is catch them in the middle of their date, and we know exactly who Steve's dating," Dustin said with a grin. "Easy!"
"Yeah, easy," Max snarked. "How are we supposed to get there?"
Dustin paused before he sighed. "Start calling everyone we know with a car, I guess."
Max rolled her eyes. "Like that'll ever work. Nobody's been willing to drive us around so far!"
"Can't hurt to try," Dustin insisted.
"No, Dustin, we'll be wasting time! We should just start walking now!"
But Dustin was already dialing the number to the Wheelers' house. It was answered by Mrs. Wheeler.
"Hello, Karen Wheeler speaking!"
"Hi, Mrs. Wheeler, could I talk to—"
"MIKE!" Dustin flinched at the volume from the other end. Max cringed, hearing the shout from where she stood. "Dustin's on the phone!"
A few seconds later, Dustin heard Mike's voice. "Yeah?"
"Is Nancy there?"
Dustin could see Mike's frown. "What do you want Nancy for?"
"Mike, I don't have time for this—"
"What. For? If this is Keith trying to get a date with her again, I swear that I'll—"
"Oh my God, Mike, no! Steve's going on a date and we need to catch him to figure out who he's going out with! We need Nancy to drive us there."
"Dustin, do you realize how idiotic that sounds? Nancy's not gonna drive you to go spy on her ex and his new girlfriend!" Mike hung up without another word.
Groaning, Dustin tried to call again, but he was met only with the dial tone.
Max rolled her eyes. "I told you it wouldn't work."
"I'm calling the Byers," Dustin grumbled. He dialed the number, but when Joyce picked up, she was talking to someone else in the house and by the time Dustin had gotten out "Is Jonathan there?" he heard the click of the receiver being put back.
"Try my sister," Max said.
Dustin dialed the number to Max's trailer, but no one answered. He shook his head.
"She's probably out running," Max sighed.
"Another run? Isn't that all she does now?" Dustin asked with a frown.
Max shrugged. "She says it helps her...deal with things."
Dustin sensed a can of worms—the kind that most people would avoid, the kind that Max clearly wanted to talk about anyway. So he asked it, when most people wouldn't. "Things?"
Max nodded slowly. "Yeah. You know...the Upside Down, Eddie..." She hesitated. "Billy."
Dustin glanced down at his feet. There was blood associated with all of those memories. He knew they plagued all of them, those who'd survived Vecna and his creatures, and he knew that they all had different ways of coping. Dustin's was research, Max's was music, yours was running.
"She's more like him than she wants to admit," Max said. "At least, she is with the running. Billy, he...he used to exercise to distract himself. She runs."
"Is that a bad thing?" Dustin asked.
"No, it's just... She needs someone in her corner is all. And I don't...I don't think that person is me anymore."
Dustin's heart squeezed in his chest. "Max..."
She shook off his concern. "Come on—we'd better start walking, or we're never going to make it to Enzo's on time!"
~❊~
It started to rain halfway through their walk to Enzo's.
The storm didn't start gently. There was no warning before it started to pour, no flash of lightning or boom of thunder. Just a steady downpour, hard and fast and painful against the skin.
Dustin and Max hid from the weather as much as they could, ducking under store awnings and hiding under outdoor umbrellas as they came across them.
After getting turned around at least twice, they spotted the restaurant's glowing sign. They ran toward it, stopping at the bay windows peering in. They scanned the tables inside. From the parking lot behind them, there was laughter and the slamming of car doors.
"Do you see them?" Dustin hissed. He looked at every face he saw, overanalyzing the back of every head that looked like it might be Steve.
"Are we sure they're still there?" Max said. "It's been, what, almost an hour and a half? Who eats for that long?"
Dustin shrugged. "Enzo's is a fancy place, they've got designated courses and shit. They could still be there."
A car engine revved. "Are you sure?" Max took Dustin by the shoulders and spun him around. "Is it just me, or does that look like—"
"Steve's car!" Dustin hissed. "Shit!"
They raced after it in the rain, Dustin catching sight of Steve through the driver's side window, his hair perfect and a huge grin on his face.
"Is he wearing a suit jacket?" Max asked.
"Did you see who was in the passenger's seat?" Dustin demanded.
Max didn't answer, still staring after the car, her face fixed into confusion.
"Max?"
"Huh? Oh, no, I...I couldn't tell who it was."
Dustin groaned. "Shit! That was our one chance!"
"We'll get another one," Max snapped. "He's been going on dates a lot, right? Robin said so, and he's always gone because he's been on a date. He'll go on another one with her soon."
Dustin sighed. "Good point. Now we just have to wait. Come on—we should call Robin."
~❊~
Max walked home in the rain by herself, hearing her mother fuss that she would get a cold if she kept walking around in the rain without a jacket, but not caring. Louder than her mother's voice was El's: friends don't lie.
Should Max have told Dustin what—who—she saw in Steve's car? Or the fact that she'd seen them going into Steve's burgundy BMW in the parking lot while he'd been focused on the store?
No.
Yes?
It was too late now. Besides, was she absolutely sure of who she'd seen?
Well, yes, she knew you better than anyone. You'd been by her side her entire life. There were pictures hanging in the trailer of Mom in the hospital bed after she'd given birth to Max, but it was you who was holding her, sitting in the plastic chair next to the bed.
The lights of the trailer were on when Max reached it, but only your car was in the driveway.
She pushed the door open. "Hey, I'm home!"
You poked your head out of the door to your bedroom. Your hair was just as drenched and stringy as her own. "Max! There you are, I was worried— Why are you soaking wet?"
"I walked home," she said, shrugging.
You hurried out of your room. "Come on, we need to get you out of those clothes. Mom will kill us both if she finds out we've both been out in the rain in the wrong kind of clothes."
"Where were you?" Max asked as you brought her into the bathroom.
You glanced up at her but didn't meet her eyes. "You couldn't get a ride home?" You left her in the bathroom, running into her room to grab her some dry clothes.
"No—Steve's the only one who will drive us anywhere, and he's unavailable most of the time."
Guilt flashed over your face. Max narrowed her eyes, watching you closely. You didn't seem to notice. "We'll tell Mom we took showers if she gets back before our hair dries." You paused. "You could have called me, you know."
"I did," she said. "You didn't answer."
Your face fell. "Max, I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"Are you dating Steve?"
The question stopped you in your tracks. "Max, I..."
"Are you?"
You sighed, wiping a a hand over your face. You sighed. "Yeah."
Max sighed. "Hand me a towel, please." You did so silently, taking one of your own to towel-dry your hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"
You shrugged. "At first, I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. I mean... I knew I liked Steve, but his track record with girls hasn't been good lately, and I..." You sighed. "I wanted reassurance he wouldn't be gone after a week."
"And after that?"
You groaned, putting your head in your hands. "This is...gonna sound stupid, but... Steve has been everything for you guys. For you, for Dustin, for El, everybody. He's saved you countless times, I watched him stand up to our brother to protect us, even though Billy beat him bloody for it. I didn't...I didn't want to feel like I was taking him away from you all, but I also...kind of wanted him to myself sometimes. And he seemed to want time alone for the two of us, too, so..." You looked up at Max. "And I didn't...want you to feel like I was taking away from you. After Billy..." Your voice caught in your throat.
There it was again. The silence that surrounded death.
"Died," Max whispered. "After he died."
You nodded. "After he died, I know Steve kind of...stepped up for you. I didn't want you to feel like he cared less about you just because I was in the picture now." You laughed shakily. "I know that kind of, uh, backfired. I'm sorry to keep him away from you guys for so long."
Max shook her head. "Stop apologizing for wanting someone that's yours." She breathed out a laugh. "I was just telling Dustin that you needed someone in your corner. I should have known it would be Steve. I mean, he's always been there for the rest of us, why wouldn't he be there for you?"
You looked over at Max. "Just how mad is Dustin that I'm dating Steve?"
"He doesn't know," Max said. "We've been trying to figure out who Steve's mystery girl is for months. He won't tell anybody, so Dustin wanted to try and see if we could figure it out ourselves." She glanced at you. "We saw you guys last night. At Enzo's. Or rather, I saw you. Dustin was too busy trying to peer inside the restaurant to even notice Steve's car."
You made a face. "How can you not notice Steve's car? It's a burgundy BMW for Christ's sake."
"I know!" Max giggled.
You laughed with her for a minute. The lightness in her voice—it had been a while since you'd heard her laugh like that.
After a moment, you said, "So...nobody else knows that it's me Steve is dating?"
Max shook her head. "Not even Robin."
You whistled. "I'm surprised Steve's capable of keeping a secret from her. It's gotta be killing him, I just know it." You giggled. "However...we could have some fun with this."
Max raised her eyebrows.
"If Dustin wants to know who's Steve's dating, he can keep digging as much as he wants." You grinned. "That's gotta be amusing, surely?"
~❊~
The storm that had swept in over a week ago had lasted the whole week, turning Hawkins into a mud patch and its roads into rivers. It let up briefly, leaving behind perfect spring days, only to return with a vengeance the next week—randomly on a Thursday afternoon.
Thursdays had become movie nights at Steve's house, and Dustin had concocted a plan to trick Steve into telling him who he was dating.
Max knew it wasn't gonna work. She had been present when you told Steve about Dustin's snooping and the both of you had decided to continue yanking Dustin's chain. Steve had seemed more excited about it than even you had.
While Steve set up his house for the group of rambunctious teenagers for movie night, Dustin explained his plan to Max in whispers.
"So, I'm going to try talking about Suzie for the first few hours," Dustin started, watching Steve like a hawk while he moved about in the kitchen, making popcorn for the group. "Get him thinking about his own relationship, you know? And then you know how he gets—" He cut himself off abruptly when Steve came into the living room with bowls of popcorn, setting them on the coffee table.
"Any idea when your sister's supposed to be here, Max?" Steve asked. "I thought she was driving you."
Max shook her head. "She said she'd come after she got out of work, but I don't remember when her shift ended."
Steve nodded. He disappeared up the stairs in the next moment.
"You know how he gets when it gets late into the movie and its dark and he's focused?" Dustin continued, picking up immediately.
Max frowned. "Like when he's so focused on something you can ask him a question and he'll either go 'huh?' and make you repeat it or he'll just answer without thinking?"
"Exactly like that," Dustin said. "That's when I'm—"
Steve returned with a stack of blankets. "How many of us are there, again? Twelve?"
"Thirteen," Dustin and Max both said.
Steve tossed the blankets onto the couch. "Go grab five more. Up the stairs, closet on the left."
They went up the stairs, Dustin whispering again before they'd even reached the landing. "I'm gonna ask him who he's going out with when he's like that."
Max rolled her eyes. "You don't know that'll work. He could say 'huh?' and make you repeat the question, like I just said."
Dustin shrugged. "Then I'll ask him something different, wait a little bit longer, and then ask again. He can't do that the whole night. Can he?"
"How should I know?" Max picked up the blankets and started back downstairs. Steve was whistling in the kitchen. "This whole plan is so stupid, Dustin. It's hardly a plan!"
"Do you have a better idea?" he hissed.
Max stayed silent. Of course she had better ideas, but those might make Steve actually tell Dustin.
"That's what I thought," Dustin said, clearly on the wrong path. "We'll stick with my plan." He glanced at Steve's back in the kitchen. "Unless your sister knows who he's dating? They're pretty much best friends now, right?"
Max nodded. "Blame Robin for that," she said, praying her poker face held. "I don't think she knows. I can't see Steve telling her if he hasn't told Robin."
"Fair point," Dustin decided. "Even more reason to rely on my plan."
She rolled her eyes. "Your plan is just going to annoy him until he kicks you out of his house."
"He likes me too much," Dustin said, with confidence Max wasn't sure he should possess—not about this, at least.
When they reached the first floor again, Steve was pacing around the living room, double checking he had everything set up. Max had to admit she liked the set up he had for movie night: the coffee table was set up with bowls of popcorn and a drink tray, there was a cooler next to filled with water bottles and soda cans, he had dragged every pillow in the house to the couch and floor, a fluffy winter comforter spread out on the carpet to make the floor more comfortable, and an egregious number of bagged snacks in a wicker basket.
"I think we're all set, guys," Steve said, surveying the room with his hands on his hips.
As if cued by Steve's motherly behavior, the rain outside grew louder, falling fast against the AC unit in the window. Steve winced.
"Looks like we're going to have to have the volume up high to hear the movie over the storm," he said.
"What are we watching?" Dustin asked.
Steve shrugged. "I dunno. We've got a couple choices in that cabinet over there, plus the stuff Robin's bringing. I think Nance had a movie she wanted to suggest, too, but I can't remember what it was..." His eye caught on the stack of blankets, leaning down to count them.
Dustin dug through the movie cabinet. "Come on, Steve, what are these movies? Why are they all romantic comedies?"
"Because they're my mom's favorite, dipshit," Steve said with an affectionate roll of his eyes.
"There's nothing of value here!"
"Well, I'm not watching Star Wars again, so—"
"It was Star Trek last week!"
"Even worse." Steve looked up at Max and waved her over. She glanced at Dustin, but he was too busy judging Mrs. Harrington's taste in rom-coms to notice her get up.
"Would it be too obvious if I gave your sister my blanket? I miscounted and we're short one."
Max bit back a laugh. "I think Nancy might notice, Robin would definitely notice, but Dustin's still a little too oblivious for that."
Steve huffed a sigh. "Can't have one of them letting it slip. Alright, fine, I'll use mine and give her a different one." He glanced at his watch. "Her shift ended almost an hour ago, she should be here any minute."
Max frowned. "Why do you know her work schedule better than I do?"
He shrugged. "In case she needs a ride to or from work. Can't leave her stranded if her car breaks down again."
A knock sounded at the door. Steve grinned at Max, both of them knowing you had arrived. He rushed to the door, slowing down only when he was within Dustin's sightline again.
You were hugging your arms when he opened the door, your hair wet and stringy, your clothes soaked through. "What took you so long, Stevie?!" you demanded, hurrying through the door. Max pointed to Dustin before you could kiss Steve's cheek.
"Jesus, you're soaked," Steve said, taking in your more than damp appearance. "Did you walk here?"
"No," you said, pointing out the still-open door to your car. "It's just raining hard enough that I got drenched on the run from my car to your door."
Steve slammed the door shut before more water could get inside. "Uh, okay, come on, I think I've got something for you to change into."
You blinked at him, gaze flicking briefly to Dustin. "Oh, no, that's alright, I'll just—"
"I'm not letting you stay uncomfortable and catch a cold in these clothes," Steve insisted. You nodded, all too ready to curl up in one of Steve's sweaters. "Come on—you two, we'll only be a minute. Answer the door if anyone else comes while we're gone."
Steve ushered you upstairs. Max waited a few minutes before telling Dustin she'd be right back, using the bathroom as her excuse, wanting to keep an eye on the two of you and stop you from any funny business. She followed the damp footprints you'd left behind, slipping into the bathroom across from Steve's room and peering around the door. She smiled at what she saw.
You had ditched your wet pants and shirt and were pulling on a pair of Steve's jeans. Steve had his back turned as he dug through his dresser.
"Um...do you need a different bra? I'm pretty sure you left one here last time..." Steve glanced back at you and smiled. "God, you look cute."
You looked up at him, cheeks pink. "You're just saying that because I'm half-naked in your bedroom and the clothes I'm wearing are yours."
Steve shook his head, still smiling. "I'm sayin' it 'cause you're cute." He walked over to you, sweater in hand, and kissed your nose. "You are beautiful, Miss Mayfield." He brushed your wet hair out of your face. "Arms up, honey."
You lifted your arms for him and he tugged his sweater over your head. He pulled you to his chest as soon as it was on, holding you like it was the last time he ever would. Max watched your hand go into his hair, pulling a soft sigh from him.
"Kiss me, Stevie," you whispered, coaxing his head toward your own with your hand.
Eyes closed, Steve obeyed, kissing you softly, chastely. Max heard the movie-perfect sound of your lips parting before you tugged him back down for a second kiss, deeper than the first.
"I love you," he whispered.
"And I love you," you said back. The two of you smiled at each other, sickeningly sweet, and Max wondered if the look on your face was the same one on hers whenever she was with Lucas.
Steve adjusted his sweater on your body one more time. "We should get back downstairs," he said. "Dustin might get suspicious."
You fell back into his arms for another hug. "Okay."
Steve took your hand and slowly lead you out of his bedroom, though he seemed just as reluctant as you to have to let go and pretend to just be friends. "Your sister thought it would be too much to give you my blanket during the movie, but I think I like having you in my clothes more."
You smiled. "If it's anything scary, I'll jump a lot and cling to you and we can blame it on the movie."
Steve grinned. "Let's hope Robin brings a good scary movie, and that Eddie wins the vote tonight, then."
Max shut the door before you could see it was open, making sure it closed quietly, quickly flushed the toilet, and turned on the sink and made a show of opening the door to see the two of you. She glanced pointedly at your hands.
"I thought we were still making Dustin guess," she said.
Steve sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He brought your joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of your hand before letting you go. "Alright, I'm done now."
The three of you headed back downstairs, Max at the lead and you just behind. Max knew Steve had let you go down the stairs first just so he could watch you prance around in his clothes and run his gaze over you again, but she'd give him a pass, just this once. You did look rather at home in his clothes.
Max watched you while you made yourself at home in your usual spot, in the middle cushion on the Harringtons' couch. In fact, she realized, you looked more like yourself, the happiest you'd been, since Billy had died—maybe even since you'd left California.
Credit where credit was due, Max would have to thank Steve somehow (without it seeming like she was thanking him for bringing you back).
"You want anything?" Steve asked you, tossing you one of the blankets. He set his down on the cushion next to you, then the blanket Robin had claimed on your other side.
"I'm all set," you promised. "Anyone else here yet, Dusty?"
Dustin rolled over onto his back from the place on the floor he'd claimed as his several months back, which he said was the best place to watch the movie from, but Max knew was his spot because it was still close enough to Steve, too. The middle, which was hers, was definitely a better view than Dustin's righthand side.
"Not yet," he said. "Hi."
You smiled. "Hi. Find a good movie?"
"No," Dustin said. "Steve's taste sucks."
Steve narrowed his eyes, picking up a piece of popcorn and throwing it at him. "For the last time, it's my mom's rom-com collection!"
~❊~
Max lay in her spot between Lucas and Dustin, Erica on the other side of Lucas, only half-paying attention to the movie while she braided El's hair, Will and Mike snuggling on the opposite side of Dustin. Max was sure Dustin felt singled out, being boarded by two couples, plus Nancy and Jonathan sharing a blanket and a lounge chair just behind him. Eddie had curled himself up on the chair on Steve's opposite side, covering himself in his blanket to protect himself from the blow of the AC unit.
Robin had managed to snag a new release that had just arrived at Family Video—Tim Burton's Beetlejuice, a movie that had only been out for a few months in the theaters. The kids on the floor had propped themselves up on their elbows, drinks and half-eaten bowls of popcorn in front of them.
Every so often, Max faked a yawn to duck her head back to glance at her sister and Steve. Robin was stretched out across both your laps, and the two of you had leaned together to share both of your blankets after Steve had muttered something about the AC being too cold, only for the others to shout for him not to touch it.
And judging from the way you and Steve occasionally exchanged a look, Max guessed you were holding hands beneath the blanket.
Max turned her attention back to the movie, lifting a small handful of popcorn to her mouth. Not so subtly, Lucas fake-stretched and laid his arm over her shoulders. Giggling quietly, Max snuggled into his side. She heard your amused hum behind from behind her, followed by a small chuckle of Steve's.
As it had the entire movie, thunder crashed outside. While the rain had lightened up enough not to be distracting, the flash of lightning visible through the curtains and the boom of thunder had been frequent and often made the room's occupants jump in fear.
Another boom of thunder announced the power flickering.
Dustin looked back at Steve. "Uh, Steve?"
"We've got a generator," Steve said, but he had sat up straighter and had pulled away from you, his face uneasy.
With the next flicker of lightning and crash of thunder, the power went out.
The group of thirteen sat in the pitch-black room in silence. Lightning illuminated faces briefly, showing Max that Robin had sat up, and that you, Steve, and Eddie were all on your feet.
"There are candles in the study," Steve said, breaking the silence. His voice was wavering, and Max remembered you saying something about cutting a date short due to the storm earlier that week. Was Steve...afraid of storms?
"I'll get them," you said.
"Matches in the drawer next to the sink and lanterns in the sunroom storage cabinet," he continued. "Eds, come on, let's go see if we can get the power back to the fridge and a few lights, yeah?"
"After you," Eddie said and followed Steve out the front door. The pattering rain grew louder as the door opened, revealing a world in grey scale, but still lighter than the inside of the house.
Dustin sat up. "Candles? Why not just use flashlights?"
"Steve only has two flashlights," Robin said. "Working ones, at least. But candles? The Harringtons have plenty of those."
Max followed you around the house, lighting the lanterns as you found them and helping you carry the candles back to the living room.
With the room now illuminated by flickering flame, it was easy to see the worry on people's faces.
"Do you think the whole town's out?" Mike asked.
"No, it can't be," Nancy said, but she didn't sound sure.
Will wriggled out from under his blanket. The look he exchanged with Jonathan was concerned.
"Everybody keep calm," you said, setting a lantern down on the floor at the center of the group. "Steve and Eddie will get the generator running in no time."
Silence fell, still and eerie. You sat beside Max and Lucas, and Max laid her head in your lap, trying to smile up at you. It only took a look for her to know you were lost in your head, in memories of the night Billy went AWOL and had been controlled by the Mind Flayer.
Max took your hand in hers. "It's okay," she promised.
"Mmm," you hummed, but your gaze was fixed on the door; you wouldn't relax until you saw Steve walk back in, unscathed.
The AC kicked back on. A few lights flickered to life and the low hum of the refrigerator filled the room.
Relief filled the room with the sound of an audible sigh. Moments later, the door opened and a waterlogged Steve and Eddie stepped back in.
"Did it work?" Steve asked. Then he heard the AC. "Alright, good." He looked around. "Turn the lights back off—the candles will do until power really comes back."
"Steve, you're drenched," Nancy said, "you're going to catch—"
"A cold, I know," he sighed, glancing over at you. You fought a smile. "Sorry about movie night, guys."
Dustin shrugged. "It was only a matter of time before we lost power. The size of the storm—"
"Oh, shut up, nerd," Erica said, rolling her eyes.
Dustin leaned around Lucas. "Do I need to remind you of the vents?" he hissed.
Erica narrowed her eyes at him.
"Children, children," Eddie admonished with a shit-eating grin that said he knew his chiding was only going to rile them up more.
"Eds," Steve warned, opening the curtains to look outside.
Eleven craned her neck to peer outside. In a small voice, she asked, "Can...can we dance in the rain?"
Nancy hesitated, then said, "I'm not sure that's the best idea, the weather isn't exactly kind at the moment."
Steve looked back outside again. "It's not raining too heavily right now."
El wrung her hands. "Joyce says it's...fun and romantic to dance in the rain."
Robin leaned forward, gasping. "You've never danced in the rain before?"
El shook her head. "Only biked in it."
"We have to go dance in the rain!" Robin insisted, jumping to her feet and pulling Eleven up with her. "It's a...a...a cognitive milestone!"
"I don't think that's the right phrase, Robin," you laughed, but you were also getting up. "Still, I think it's a good idea. Good way to pass the time until the power comes back."
"Come on, Nancy," Jonathan said softly. "Let her have fun. Mom's right. It's fun in the rain."
You took one of Robin's hands and one of Steve's and dragged them into the rain. Robin created a chain by grabbing El, who grabbed Max, who grabbed Lucas. The small group raced out into the street, running through puddles and spinning through the falling rain.
Dustin appeared at Max's side, his hair matted to his face. "It's like the time they were drugged by the Russians," he said, staring at Steve and Robin, the latter of whom was trying to taste the rain.
Max did a doubletake. "When they were what?"
"Don't ask," Erica suggested.
Laughter filled the air as the group danced around each other, twirling each other and splashing through the current of water at the side of the road. Steve tripped through puddles with Robin; Jonathan convinced Nancy to dance in the driveway; Will and Mike splashed each other in the puddles.
"May I have this dance?" Lucas asked, holding his hand out to Max and trying his best to look gentlemanly, which was ruined by the water running into his eyes and making him squint.
"You dork," Max laughed, but she took his hand anyway and let him pull her close, guiding her in a slow dance through the rain. She rested her head on his shoulder and watched as you went over to Steve and Robin.
Steve stopped his fooling around, watching you approach with a dopey, lovesick smile. He held out his hands to you and you took them; he twirled you in the rain, catching you and pulling you close before you could fall in the wet road.
"Careful there," he laughed. Even with his hair plastered to his head, his clothes heavy and hanging off him, you were still looking at him like he was the most beautiful creature you'd ever seen.
Max watched the time slow around the pair of you. She knew you were both completely oblivious, cut off from the company around you, even from Robin's stare as she took in the way the two of you gazed at each other.
Steve swayed you, getting himself lost in your eyes. He cupped your face with one hand, running his thumb over your cheekbone.
Lost in your bubble, neither of you noticed that the others had all stopped to watch, unable to speak and break the spell—not even Dustin, whose mouth hung agape.
You were lost in Steve, Max could tell. Close enough to the pair of you now, she could see you drinking in every detail: the water droplets hanging off Steve's hair and eyelashes, the amazed curve of his open mouth, the gentle swipe of his thumb, the lovestruck look in his eyes, his rosy cheeks so stark against his otherwise pale, cold, and wet skin, the reassuring hold of his arm around your waist.
Max knew what Steve was going to do before it happened, before even you had caught up. He bent his head, slotting your lips together.
Like some magic, divine will, the rain fell a little faster, distant thunder boomed, and lightning splintered through the sky, lighting up the clouds above you and Steve, a dramatic backdrop to a kiss so similar to a first kiss.
Robin whooped first. You and Steve smiled into each other, but neither pulled away, and Max realized you had been aware of your audience the entire time; but keeping it a secret hadn't been worth skipping out on a spectacular rain-soaked kiss.
Mixed in with the cheering was Dustin's incredulous cries of "What?! Max, did you know?!" that she pointedly ignored.
Steve swayed you while the kiss continued, embarrassingly long but adorably sweet. When it finally broke, Steve pressed his forehead against yours.
"I love you," he said, loud enough to be heard over the storm. (Robin shrieked.)
"I love you, too," you giggled. (Robin shrieked louder.)
Steve pushed your wet hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead, then shoved his hand through his own hair to get it out of his face.
"Not what you were expecting, huh, Henderson?" he said with a cheeky grin.
Dustin looked flabbergasted. "How did you know I was— MAX!"
You and Steve burst into a fit of giggles. You snuggled into his chest.
"How is that comfortable? I'm soaked!" Steve asked you.
"Yeah, but it's you," you said. A soft, sweet smile pulled at his lips, barely distracting you from his quiet moan of relief. He squeezed you tight.
"You're going to need to borrow more of my clothes," he said.
You grinned up at him. "I'll happily live in your clothes, Stevie."
A few feet away, Mike sneezed violently.
"Alright, back inside," Steve decided. "That's enough rain for today. I don't need you all getting sick and still needing me to drive you everywhere."
Dustin rolled his eyes. "Are you actually gonna drive us again?"
"If you give my girl the front seat and behave when she's in the car with us," Steve said. "Inside, come on. Go, shoo."
He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, watching the others flee to the safety of his house, then following them in with you. You kissed his cheek as you walked. Max hung back with Lucas, wanting to know what you said about the sudden rain kiss.
"You are perfect, Steve Harrington," you whispered. His cheeks darkened.
"Says you," he said, nuzzling his nose into your hair. "Hey, um... You wanna stay the night?"
"Gotta take Max home," you said. "But...I can come back?"
"I...I'd like that," Steve said. Max wondered if he'd ever been this shy with a girl before.
"Me too," you whispered. Steve squeezed your hip.
Dustin rolled his eyes from the doorway. "Get a room," he groaned.
"Oh, shut up," Max teased. "You're just annoyed you couldn't figure it out!"
Dustin scowled. "You knew! You knew and you were hiding it from me!"
Max shrugged, fighting a giggle.
Steve passed out towels with a warning not to let them get close to an open flame. Halfway through his warning, the power flickered back on—and so did the movie.
The group cheered, but Max watched you and Steve sneak upstairs and come down a few minutes later in dry clothes, hand in hand. She smiled before shaking her head and turning back to the ending of the movie.
And if—no, when—Steve asked her for advice on how to propose to you, Max was going to tell him to do it in the rain.
☞ ❊ ☜
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Stranger Things // Steve Harrington
Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the S.H. taglist!} @ohatropa@nix-rose@live-the-fangirl-life
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they help you practice
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Team 141/Reader - Gangbang TW: explicit consent given, polyamory, vaginal sex, anal sex, face-fucking, double penetration, spitting, come as lube, bulging, Ghoap sex, bukkake, degradation, orgasm control. Let me know if I missed one, I'm sorry. Proceed with caution, please.
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You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 
“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”
You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 
Price continued,
“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”
“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 
“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”
A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,
“What kind of bait, sir?”
“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”
“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.
The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 
“Good. Let's brief the team.”
Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 
“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”
You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 
The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.
“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”
Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 
“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”
“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 
Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,
“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”
“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”
“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 
“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 
Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,
“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”
“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 
“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”
Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 
You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.
But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 
Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,
“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”
Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.
You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 
You smiled,
“Well, do I look the part?”
Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,
“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”
“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”
Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,
“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”
“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”
“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”
“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”
“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.
Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,
“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”
“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”
Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,
“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”
The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 
Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,
“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “...or down?”
The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 
“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 
The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,
“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”
You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 
Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,
“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 
Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 
“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”
“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  
He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 
Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 
Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,
“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”
You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,
“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”
You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 
“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”
You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,
“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”
You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 
He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 
“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 
The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 
“You alright, babes?” He laughed.
You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 
Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 
“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.
He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 
You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, and his cock was as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 
Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 
You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 
Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 
Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,
“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slag, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”
He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 
“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”
You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 
“He’s not allowed to come inside of you yet, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”
Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.
Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 
Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 
“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 
You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 
He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 
“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”
You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 
“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”
He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 
“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.
Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 
Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 
Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,
“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”
Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 
“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”
Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.
Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,
“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here. Breathe with me, lass.”
He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 
It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 
Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.
You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 
He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,
“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”
“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.
Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,
“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”
He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 
As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.
“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”
“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 
Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 
Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,
“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”
He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 
“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”
Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 
“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”
“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 
Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 
They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,
“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”
“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.
“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”
“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”
“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 
He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 
You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,
“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”
Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 
“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”
“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”
“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 
Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 
Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.
“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 
“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”
The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 
Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,
“Missing your masked man already?”
You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,
“He’s a little…preoccupied.”
Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 
Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 
“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”
He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 
When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 
“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”
You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 
Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 
“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.
“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 
“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 
“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”
Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,
“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”
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honestsycrets · 10 months
Text
before anyone else I: the venerable [admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader]
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❛ pairing | admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader
❛ type | one-shot, sfw (minor past suggestive themes)
❛ summary | once upon a time, miguel loved a princess. upon learning about her engagement to his father, King Stone, he's back with a plan in hand.
❛ tags | forced marriage, arranged marriage, historical period not defined, royal!au, admiral!miguel, princess!reader, mention of character death, elements of implied treason and betrayal, some angst, some fluff, annoyed miguel, lyla makes trouble, self edited, f!reader, persuasion inspired, a kiss, innocent!reader, Spanish is not translated, a kiss.
❛ sy's notes | no requests were fulfilled; filled to meet this poll.
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An imperial boat docks. It waves in the water a little off-kilter, pulling to the right in all its glorious majesty. On the dock itself, the head of ground forces stood dressed in full regalia, all navy blue and white, the gold buttons glistening in the fresh morning light. Jess expected this day would one day come. The seamen shouted among one another on the ship until at last the crew outstretched a thick oak plank. Boots bounded down the strong wooden ramp leading from an imperial ship to the dock. The awaiting crowd was rough and rowdy, casting bellowing screams at the admiral and his crew. 
“There he is!” Jess boomed, clapping her umber hands together.
They were freckled, with the frequency of her exposure to the sun. Today, her skin was shielded by a heavy coat. She abandoned the thing over her chair as she wrote letters, recommendations, and battle orders. But she preferred it when her poet shirt was thrown open, teaching the men and women in her charge. 
Admiral Miguel O’Hara led the charge, passing by the lackeys throwing down trade goods from the belly of the boat. Compared to Jess, his clothing was rough, punctuated by his time at the sea. What use was there for a thick coat with the spray of sea spray daily? No, he stood in dark brown breeches and a thrown open poet-shirt, sodden with sea water, likely from dealing with whatever injury brought his ship back to this usually forgotten port. 
He was glad to be back on the Spanish shore, if only it weren’t this shore and the many stairs he would have to brave to get to the castle while the engineers worked on the Venerable. Miguel loosened the sweat from his coarse locks, his shoulders bunched and ready for another fight. He came to a stop in front of Jess, exhaling deep, rage-filled breaths. Jess shifted back on her boot heel, a grimace on her countenance.
“That’s a pretty good hole. She’s taking on water quick. You hit something, Miguel?” 
“Me? No, I don’t hit rocks.” Miguel snorted, casting a look over his shoulder to the woman that stood at his side. Lyla’s eyes averted, not quite saying anything and saying everything at the same time. Lyla obscured herself behind her thick honey-brown bob. “Someone was distracted with the king’s cask of Carribean rum.” 
“Lyla?” Jess came up behind her, grasping her shoulders for emphasis. “No. Our Lyla couldn’t’ve done that number.” 
“It was once! One in eight years.” 
“Those... those changes you wrote me about. They have you on edge, paranoid. Let’s have a drink with the imperial guard. They have missed you.” 
Miguel threw a hiss back at the two as he stormed up the stairs, bundling buttons of his dirty poet shirt to obscure the sight of his dark chest from onlookers, namely the sex-deprived women and men of the capital whose hungry eyes ogled his crew. He didn’t need a loon bothering him right now, not here, he might punch them into a permanent, instantaneous sleep. 
“Oh, come, Miguel, these things happen. Look how sorry she is.” She says as if he cares. Jess rushed to catch up with him, the beads on the ends of her braids snatching and clicking. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, his head heavy.  He doesn’t have time for this.
“What she meant to do is as much irrelevant as it was irresponsible. If you’ll excuse me, Jess, I now have to prepare a new ship to set sail.” 
“The king wants to see you. It’s about her,” she shouted. Miguel’s steps came to all but a grinding halt, his finger fingers flexing into a tight fist. His mouth was dry, and it wasn’t due to a lack of hydration but the mention of your name on Jess’s lips. She brought her hands to her hips, her hands on the golden embroidered loops. His face sagged, all irritation melding into something different, inscrutable. He threw her a look.
“Fine.” 
But first-- he had to get this sea stank off of his skin. 
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“Admiral O’Hara! There is just the man I have been looking for. Come, come, let me pour you tea. No? No tea? Of course not, it seems I don’t remember the boy I used to know. You’re a man now. And one of decisive action! Coffee, yes? You are better suited to black coffee. Am I correct?” 
Everyone thinks he is thirsty in this blasted place.
He didn’t belong here. He was, as he preferred to be, stuck at sea. The unforgiving sea required his attention lest his men befall a terrible end. He could handle that burden. He stood below a great sigil of a sea dragon whirling to chew its tail. Its hands secured a great many orbs in its sharp, jeweled talons. His eye tracked across the inside of the crest, turning over the word hopelessly on his tongue. 
“Rum,” he answered caustically, his eye dropping from the great sigil before him to the jeweled sapphire and emeralds that were embedded in the floor. Between rows of sentinel were porcelain statues, their hands wrapped around blunt and aged swords, their fingers almost palpable on the artifacts that remained from times of old. The deep navy blue curtains and tapestries are detailed in ineffectual teal. He never cared for the other assortment of pots and jars that were so-called mythical artifacts and rolls of paper that would soon house the king’s poorly-made royal decrees. 
“Aha! A good seaman and his alcohol,” the king minced his laughter. The noise aggravated him, the memory of the man’s words buzzing in the back of his head. Now he kissed up to him. How he’d fallen. He blinked up to the royal crest, then down to the aged king. His long, grey hair at the middle of his back reflected his many losses. Miguel turned his eyes back down to the king, eyes crinkling at the corners, taking a glimpse of him. His tone slipped. “It makes the time pass more tolerably, does it not?” 
“It does.” 
He pops open a glass bottle of rum, pouring it into a cup encrusted with more fine jewels. Miguel doesn’t drink.
"I suppose you want me to get to the point.” 
That would be a nice change, yes. His eyes held modest deference, his heavy dark brown boots pacing toward a hearth in the middle of the king’s study. Wisps of vibrant blue fire threw embers into the air. He finds himself staring at a stained glass effigy of your mother. A woman who undoubtedly would have been ashamed of the husband that stood before him now.
“You recall my daughter,” How could he not? He released a small grunt, an acknowledgment of the king’s words. Mindful of his reaction, Miguel turned his hands over the hot air, plumes of warmth kissing his sun-worn cheeks. As the king spoke, the flickering flames warmed the slight ring on his thick fingers. “I’ve arranged her marriage to Lord Stone. An alliance of sorts.” 
Miguel’s eyes go wide, aghast, staring into the blank flames. He grits his teeth together, the thin blade of his patience whittling down with every word from the king. He kills his face of the horrified, fleeting emotions that dappled his skin like obvious spots. He might have snapped a look at the king before his eyes calmed, trained to maintain the illusion of composure. 
“How unfortunate.”
“King Stone?” around the corner, his second-in-command squeaked. He should have left her outside. Miguel brought his hand to cup his slight forehead, throwing her a warning look.  “That old coot is still--”
“Lyla.” 
“Yes, he is quite old, isn’t he? I was surprised when he asked for her hand in marriage, truly,” the king said tightly, born in annoyance. He has gone ashy, eyes desolate as he recounts the death of the prince, or perhaps his own. “I would have preferred an engagement to his son. I trust you heard about his assassination. It was a great surprise. A tragedy, indeed.” 
“We have heard many things about it. I am surprised that you would agree to such an alliance after what he's done.” 
It was impossible not to hear rumors in the ports he sailed through. Miguel did not only hold to royal ports but those that held slimy crowds of pirates and prostitutes. If he did not, he would never have the truth behind the many rumors that swirled through the air. Women in richer towns had time to spread rumors. Those suffering from poverty had no time for them. Their lives were ones of perpetual struggle. What use had they for the death of stupid princes?
“Feelings change.” 
Did they really-- 
“Miguel. Truly, I understand your apprehension. But unless you have the magic to raise my dead sons from the grave, I have no choice.” The king sighed, beating his old knuckles on the game board. He’d sacrifice another child for his own safety-- the illusion of it. Coward. “I must know if I can I trust you with her transport.” 
“She won’t last.” Miguel stared at him, breathing the words out, his frown darkening the rest of his features. “She is a balm to any battle-worn king, but Stone is not just old. He is dangerous. If you send her there, you will send her to her death.” 
“His wives are well cared for,” your father argued mildly because it was not him who would face the rest of a lifetime with Stone. He brought a fist to his mouth and bit down upon it, a vestige of the man he used to be. “Perhaps your feelings for her cloud your judgement.” 
“I can separate my feelings from my professional judgements, mi rey.” 
“Yes. I suppose you can, admiral. How long has it been since you bore the responsibility of being the Head of Guards? Seven years?” 
“Eight,” Miguel cropped, his hand shifting to the top of his pommel. “It has been eight years since I left the crown city.” 
“Head of ground forces regulates my guard now. I find them lacking,” he grabbed Miguel’s cup of undrunk rum and threw it back, his tongue snapping against the roof of his tongue. He felt for the sentinel of guards in the room. “My soldiers, that is. If they had been stronger, perhaps my sons would still be alive.” 
Be it like him to find fault in everyone but his own battle choices.
“But I am ever humbled by your selfless service, mi hijo,” he spoke mildly, “Please know it isn’t a decision I make lightly. I know my daughter. She would feel more secure if you were the one to take her to Stone.” 
They were nice words from a soon-to-be puppet king. Miguel turned his gaze onward, locating Lyla by his side. Her small, scarred hands warmed themselves over the ancient blue flame. A surge of heat turned over in his stomach, punctured by a fear he hadn’t felt in a while. He steadied his voice. 
“I would not be so certain.” Miguel wrinkled his forehead, throwing a look that looked almost off-kilter. After this many years, would it be easy to face you again? No, he decided. Not for this purpose. “Soft women are fickle to easy words.” 
What of me? 
Not you, Lyla. You’re not soft.
“If you do not want to, I can send her by way of Jess,” a long sigh slipped off the king’s lips. Then quiet, only broken by a clatter and Lyla’s frantic attempt to replace game pieces into their proper position. Miguel swayed to where she was, grabbing the head of a miniature oak knight and popping it into the proper position. 
“For her sake, I will deliver her.” 
Miguel said nothing more. He failed to wait for the king to dismiss him, perhaps out of confidence in their relationship, that this was not something he had to tread lightly around. Lyla rushed by his side, the wordless guards drawing the heavy doors open to the wide stone hallway before them.
“You cannot take her there,” Lyla spoke with a rigidity that Miguel admired, mindful of the volume of her words, only a whisper. “Your father is--” 
“Yes, Lyla, I know very well.” 
“Then what next?” 
At the end of the hall, Miguel rushed down the steps, out of the king’s chambers, and into lush, almost stabilizing grass. Free of the constricting walls that he would have once called home, Miguel took in the fresh air, his hands behind his neck. To take you there meant certain death. To not take you there, well, he regarded both just as poorly. The fat roses bobbed on their pointy stems. Miguel expects to see you there, with your chambermaids, eating fruits on an Arab blanket. 
“We take Jess up on her offer. She’ll be expecting me.” 
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“Miguel, the intent in horseback riding is that your ride the horse.” 
“You know, on top,” Lyla jumps onto Jess’s sentence. “He hasn’t been on top of anything in years--”
“And break its back?” Miguel held the reins in his thick fist. The horse, a chunky mocha and white painted thing was a profit from his voyages overseas. Not only was it subjected to awful sea travel, but now to have a man of muscle on its back? With his newfound speed, it was a risk he did not need to take. “No. I have two feet. I can walk.”
Miguel was many things, but he wasn’t a monster. Or so he liked to think.
“I think you’re quite sweet, Admiral O'Hara.” Jess’s own guard, Gwen, spoke. She was a willowy thing, barely a sprout of a woman with a good heart. He could tell. Miguel looked down, opting for silence as he crunched down full blades of grass under his foot. 
“Miguel doesn’t like compliments,” Lyla said. 
He also didn’t like long, relaxing walks in the valley. Jess proposed something like drinking in her office. It would have been glorious-- but Lyla, whose recent binge nearly scuttled his ship, chose a good ol’fashioned horseback ride. Something that didn’t remind her of sitting on the patchwork doll that was the Venerable.
“The princess would marry someone she does not know?”
Dread filled Miguel’s stomach at the words, the truth in them half-cocked and wrong. He found no words on his tongue that could fit the weight of bitterness that he felt about the arranged marriage. Everyone knew, everyone but Gwen. She was a young thing.
“It’s not her choice,” Lyla spoke in your defense. “It’s her father’s.”
“Forced marriages are a thing of the past. They are not right. Has the princess ever even met Lord Stone?” Gwen asked.
In less than a week’s time, following the festival of roses, they would sail eastward. Or, so said the sailing plans he laid out for Jess. Who, for her part, looked away. Lyla and he exchanged a glance of mutual understanding. That was what he liked to call a sign. 
“No, before their deaths, her brothers never would have allowed her travel to Alche. This whole alliance is a sham. We’re expected to deliver the princess in some false faith that he keeps this so-called alliance. He will not. I cannot decide if the king truly believes in this alliance or if he is hopeful he will remain as a ruler. In either case, it is foolish. Stone would murder his own legitimate heir and for what?” 
Except they aren’t his words. Those words flowed freely from Jess’s lips. 
“The king will fall.” 
“Miguel. Those are treasonous—“
“Treasonous? He is incapable of governing.” 
“The council helps him,” Jess says, but the words come out slanted. She convinces herself as much of the truth as him. Gwen’s lips close, looking down to the sword at her side, then back to Jess’s troubled eyes. Miguel had her where he wanted her. Where she wanted to be-- abandoning this foolish faith in a man who long since gave up hope on a strong, independent nation. 
“A counsel of plants. Five of his sons have fallen. If this keeps up, we will fall next.” 
Jess felt the words running bone-deep. 
“You have a plan.” 
He always did.
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The deep night sky was a sea of twinkling stars. Oil lamps illuminated the solitary garden. Miguel fit his hands in balls on his hips, eyes flickering from the blades of grass to the long stems of lilies. He breathed softly, drawing in breaths that should have been relaxing, but morphed into something awful, some unfiltered fear of the failure of his plans. 
“These are her gardens, aren’t they?”
“They are,” Miguel answered. “If nothing has changed, she cares for them herself and harvests them with the peasants. She’ll be here, tomorrow, for her last harvest as a princess.” 
On one hand, overturning the king and his council could go seamlessly. He had Jess, that much was for certain. Gwen, who seemed to go with her bidding, held a good heart about the ethics of arranged marriage. She turned her nose up at it, the suggestion that you would be forced into a marriage with an old, cruel king. Lyla, his Lyla, held no apprehension to the plan. She treated him with deference, seeking only his happiness as his best friend.
Would this-- being king-- make him happy? 
Miguel looked down. Soft pink roses, ripe and ready for the rose-picking festival. Your last, if things went to your father’s plan. He hadn’t thought about it: about how you might feel in the push for another engagement. Not one to an aged, cruel man-- but… he never thought to find you, to ask. He wasn’t sure he could stomach the rejection and yet still force you into a marriage with him. 
It wasn’t that he wanted to-- but had to.
Miguel turned his hand into the suit vest across his chest, removing a bit of aged parchment with a broken wax seal. He turned his finger over the old ink. In every interaction I face, I long to spot you, hidden among the roses, the lilies, to be one of the heads of delighted harvesters. But you are not here. You are never here. I fear you never may be.
“Miggy,” Lyla said. “Miggy look.” 
Miguel lifted his head to look at Lyla. She wasn’t looking at him, peering across the garden, somewhere Miguel couldn’t see from where he stood. He lifted his dark brown boots, stomping around the corner. His sharp red eyes were wide in shock, bags of exhaustion lifted by your sight. Had it-- really been eight years? 
Panic works in tandem with longing. He could run for Jess’s chambers, crumple there like the very coward that ran this fastly crumbling kingdom. Face you another day. He couldn’t help but indulge himself in the gentle lilt of your voice, the way you rolled the ‘r’ on his last name, even though it was very much not an ‘r’ to be rolled. 
“Is that you, Miguel O’Hara? ¿De verdad?” 
No, Miguel thought. Not yet. 
His mind was overwrought, more stimulation than he had in months of battling the sea. He could climb ropes, fix sails, fight pirates, throw out orders, and care for the ports. No issue. None. But as you stood there, looking finer than any treasure he ripped from the hands of the most experienced of pirates, he found himself unable to locate his practiced words. 
You were meant to be his. To be by his side. Of that much, he was certain. Miguel folded the letter in his hand and tucked it back into his dark coat, exploring your gown. A light, white off-the-shoulder dress, embroidered in teal and ombre details, with the most beautiful seafoam bowed sash. You pulled at the rebozo over your long dripping sleeves, the jewels of your hairpieces tinking together as you moved, pulling up your skirts saucily over your ankle. 
“Is it not the admiral?” your handmaiden whispered. 
“I did not know he was back,” said the other. 
“Please excuse us, girls. Lady Lyla, I would prefer a private audience with the admiral. If you would,” 
“Of course! Of course, come, hurry up, you're slow--” Lyla did not need to be told twice. She made herself scarce, grabbing the mid-backs of the girls, forcing them up the steps and out of sight. Miguel dipped down to take a lantern that one of the girls had forgotten.
“Hola, mi amor,” 
Miguel turned around, offering you his forearm. Your jeweled eyes fell on it. You took his broad arm with one hand, minding the train of your dress in the other. The pads of your fingers shifted along the muscle. It took a moment for him to register your curious touch. The increase in his muscle mass, particularly as of late, must have been jarring. His brows knit together, his eyes crinkling around the edges in a way that reflected his age by sea. You moved through your gardens. Miguel, your ever-patient servant, followed your lead.
At night time, your garden was impossibly beautiful. It was lined by bushels of healthy, salt-tolerant roses, cloaked in the secret of darkness. Miguel remembered the small pond as if it were yesterday, the secret place of his youth. Small bugs sang in the heaviness of your mutual silence, breaking with the pop of your lips.
“I saw you had a letter in your hands. From a woman, perhaps?” 
He lifted his hand, offering the lack of a marriage band. No wife, not even a love on a distant shore. The memory of your kisses, your bodies strewn in bed, overrode any ability for him to find another woman. What happened to your eyes-- you began, reaching to touch him. He turned his face away. You were the first to notice. Or, perhaps, just unbothered by tethers of propriety.
“You are still unmarried? Then why did you never answer my letters?” 
“What would you have me say, princesa?” Miguel’s words came at last. He hadn’t meant them to come out the way they did. A long, painful lament on his tongue, marked with barbs. “You chose your family over my proposal. Your rejection was quite clear.” 
“You, above everyone else, should know it was not an easy choice. I could not have told them the truth.” You sat down on your stone bench, fixing your skirts. “You would have hung.” 
“Yes... well. How funny is it that they are now dead,” he bit out. “While I stand here alive.” 
Your eyes were bright, watery, bits of tears slipping down from the corners of your eyes, over pink blush at your cheeks. Shit, he hadn't meant to say that. A slow breath leaked from his mouth. You stood up, brushing the tears away with the flowing sleeves. It hurt to see your pain well to the surface.
“Miggy, I know you hate them, but please don’t talk ill of the dead. They did what they thought was best for our nation and nothing more.” 
Right-- to secure the possibility of an alliance through an arranged marriage, how charitable of them. You stood before a bushel of roses, turning your eyes over the fat blooms as an excuse not to look at him. You poisoned your mind with the lies of your father and brothers. He turned you, lip trembling.
“What of what was best for you?” His hand found your cheek, rolling away the tears that spilled openly before those in the garden. The sentinel who watched, the flowers that grew in peace. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the comforting warmth that welled up in your chest. He was here, again. “That has always been the only thing that I am concerned with.” 
“I know. My brothers couldn’t understand. They only understood politics.” 
“What of your father? He knows how I feel.” Miguel said. The words were smooth and soft, gentle like the sill waters of your pond. “He may not know that I was your first--” 
“Miggy,” 
“Your virginity belongs to me. Stone cannot take it,” he punctuates the words. They seem to draw some ancient feelings loose, drawing back with your hand to your chest, cooling the heat that bubbled in your chest at the mere memory. His voice milded out, a smile warring at the corners of his lips. Eight years, and he knew you thought of that very warm summer’s night on the pavilion.  "But your father would still allow you to live in misery."
You're not thinking of your father when Miguel speaks of such silly, youthful things. It's hurled into the past.
“You remember.” The tone in his voice pulled at a question, but he asked none. You tugged on your rebozo and turned away from Miguel once more, embarrassed. He couldn’t resist. His hands cupped your slight shoulders, rippled with goosebumps, though it was not a cold night out. His lips worked on your ears, kissing the delicate earrings that dripped from your earlobes. “The last day of the rose harvest.” 
“Miggy, not here.” 
“Your guards fell ill for their night shift. I took their place. You bathed in petals and perfumed your skin that night. I dare say, on purpose. You were so good for me.” 
The memory must have made you clench, your blood runs warm, leaning into the soft kiss he set behind your ear, the scrape of his fang. Oh, stars, you cried.
“We should stop, my father--”
“Knows what love we have. Even if he is a spineless coward.”  
“Have? Miggy?” 
He held his chin level, swaying where he stood, seeking some acknowledgment that your feelings had not changed. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you faced him. In place of a response, silence was the best course of action. A grim smile worked on his face, his head pounding with the lack of alcohol, that little friend of his that had made these years pass so easily. You tugged him forward.
“You are mine?” you ask. 
“I am yours. I am loyal to you before anyone else.” 
To his surprise, you held out your hand, your fingers twiddling at him. 
“Then prove your loyalty to me.” You hummed. “Give me that letter. I want it.” 
“You can’t trust me, can you?” He sighed, slipping his hand into his coat pocket. Finally pulling it free, he unraveled it. Its crispy, flaked edges slipped from your fingertips. The royal seal glimmered in your eyes, wrought in sudden delight at your own handwriting. 
“This is mine. And you’ve kept it so close to your heart this whole time? Oh, Miggy,” 
“Don’t start,” Miguel took a step away, rubbing the frustration out of his forehead. Blood rushed to Miggy’s dark face. He should be so lucky that it was night, that the moon was not full, and that you would not weaponize it. You plucked up your skirts, daring a twirl, jewelry jingling, skirts whirling. His lips pulled in a smile at your delight, a party all on your own. Congratulations on your victory, he wanted to say, as if it hadn't resulted in years of endless longing.
“I knew it.” 
“You did not,” Miguel bit out, kicking out his feet over the inky blades of glass. “You interrogated me regarding its source. Another woman when I have a princess? How asinine.” 
“Oh, Miggy. If you write me a letter, just one,” you settled it back in his coat jacket. “I can be at peace with this marriage. I’ll close my eyes and think of you.” 
His mind reeled at your words. He shot you a wan look, which you returned with a confused flicker of your long lashes, wondering what you said that was so wrong. Miguel looked toward the armed guards, men who-- in the day, he served with. He trusts them in a way that is unique to service under the crown-- to you. 
“What sort of man do you take me for?” he bit out, his tone tapering dangerously low. “To think I would allow you to marry that man?”
“What choice do I--” 
“You listen to your father regarding the oddest things. You would marry an archaic sack of shit but not the love of your life.” 
“Oh,” breath punched from your chest, exhaled in a shaky breath. Your hand came to your chest, twiddling the jewelry at your chest. Miguel turned his head back to face yours, his scarlet eyes trained on yours. “I wasn’t aware of your offer.” 
He couldn’t help it. Not anymore. The time at sea, eight years of suppressed pleasure through memories of your warmth, and the letters you sent all culminated in overcoming longing. He dipped down, his lips sliding against yours. He swept his tongue past your lips, drawing you closer with a stabilizing hand behind your back. He was many things, but never a coward, savoring the tender taste of fig and honey and you on your lips. You were as sweet as he remembered. His lips parted, words barely a puff.
“I don't believe I ever retracted it, Princesa.” 
Yes, you say delightfully. He wonders if you'll still say yes after you learn of what he's done. He doesn't always like the decisions he has to make-- but they're for your good. One day, perhaps, you'll understand.
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froggywritesstuff · 5 months
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pros and cons | rise!donatello
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ship/pairing: rise!Donatello x male!reader
fandom: rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles
warnings: fluff, cuddling, mentions of a.i., not proofread
word count: 796
A/N: idk man. 18+ people DNI
There are a lot of cons to dating a mutant turtle who lives in the sewers. One, being the fact that he lives in the sewers, and you have a sense of smell. Among others was your friends constantly nagging you to introduce them to him, or to at least show them a picture of your boyfriend that they were getting more convinced everyday that he was an a.i. bot.
Although the list of cons might have looked like an extremely long list to anyone else, you focused on the pros. In your eyes, the cons were but a small hill compared to the mountain of pros. To name a few, having a really smart boyfriend meant never having to go to a phone repair shop. Considering how many times you’ve dropped your phone in the lair, this was a very big pro. And with a mutant turtle boyfriend apparently came three mutant turtle brothers that you had become fast friends with.
Being friends with them, there wasn't much difference between your friendship with them and your friendships with non-mutant people. Aside from the secrecy, the sewers, and all the weird places they'd take you and/or tell you about. You did have sleepovers though. They were always fun. It’s just less fun when you're sleeping in your super smart boyfriend's bed and he's suddenly super busy super late at night with some super smart and super loud project.
Now you could cover your ears with your pillow and count a million sheep while you will yourself to sleep, ignoring the sounds from Donnie's lab and trying to gaslight yourself into thinking it wasn't that loud. However, leaving the lonely bed to sit with and annoy him sounded much more fun. After little contemplation, you slide out of bed, trudging over toward where Donnie sat in his chair. With no explanation, you flopped into his lap, readjusting to make the both of you comfortable. Donnie paused what he was doing, pulling his goggles over his head and staring down at you.
”…Hello.”
He felt you smile into the crook of his neck, followed by the vibrations of your muffled voice, “Hi.”
”What are you doing?” He asked, idly continuing his work but still giving you his attention.
You stay quiet, answering with a simple shrug.
”Are you gonna go back to sleep?”
"That's what I'm tryna do."
"Then go back to the bed?" He suggested as if it were obvious, to which you scoffed at.
”Uh, rude.”
Donnie rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t deny the smile tugging on his lips as he talked with you, “Y/N, I doubt that my lap is a better place to sleep than the bed, in fact, I’m almost certain of it.”
A frown formed on your lips, and you shook your head, “Keyword; almost. So no, I will not be leaving. I just got comfortable. And you’re nice and cool.”
"I assume I don't have to warn you of this, but it's gonna be loud."
"I know," you said, "It's still loud when I sleep in bed." Donnie's shoulders sagged at the realisation that he had woken you up. You felt the subtle movement, and looked up at him to meet his eyes, "If you like, actually want me to, I can go."
"No," he shook his head, "You can stay."
"Are you sure? You're not just saying that?"
"I'm sure Y/N." he smiled at you.
A sigh of relief left your lips at the confirmation that your physical touch wasn't making him uncomfortable, and you let your head rest against his plastron, "Nice, I'm super tired and I don't wanna walk all the way to bed."
"I understand, that sounds so hard." Donnie drawled, a rare occurrence of him using sarcasm.
"Right? Can I sleep like this every time I sleep over? Wait, don't answer that, I've made up my mind and I wanna."
"Sigh," Donnie sighed, but you could still see the slight smile on his lips, “Get a boyfriend they said. It’ll be fun, they said.”
"I heard that." 
"Good, it was intended for you to hear." he pulled his goggles down, and handed you a pair of noise cancelling headphones. Thanking him, you placed them over your ears, yawning as you readjusted to a more comfortable position.
You fell asleep shortly after that, and woke up in bed, cuddled up to Donnie. He was still sleeping soundly, and judging by the bags under his eyes, you assumed you got a better night's sleep than him. You smiled, cuddling closer to him as you let yourself sleep some more. There was truly no better feeling than waking up next to him. The pros definitely outweigh the cons when it comes to dating Donnie.
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abandoned--reality · 2 months
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I see a lot of memes on how short the story would be if Odysseus just listened to Eurylochus, but like.. am I missing something?
Odyssesus telling his name to the cyclops is the biggest mistake obviously. But besides that… the crew and Eurylochus are constantly making messes that Odysseus has to clean up.
Full Speed Ahead: 6 hundred reasons to take what we can; let’s raid the place and go
Taking what they could is what GOT them into the situation in the first place. They took the cyclops sheep and brought the wrath of the cyclops
Remember Them: captain, we should run; captain please
If they’d run when Eurylochus wanted, they would’ve been caught and seen by the other cyclops. Certainly not able to make away with the sheep.
Luck Runs Out: please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’ll do
If Odysseus HADNT gone to the wind god and gotten the bag, when they come upon Poseidon, the entire crew would have been gone. Having the bag of wind save them.
Puppeteer: we have to go save them/no we don’t!; let’s cut our losses you and I and let’s run
Had they done that, not only would all the men left alive be left as pigs, but the two would have never survived. They never would have gone to the underworld to the prophet, and never would have survived the journey home.
So Eurylochus doesn’t make any good suggestions to Odysseus. On the contrary, he proves to be a horrible second in command who doesn’t trust Odysseus and undermines his judgement at every step, causing constant conflict.
Remember them: insisting they run as the cyclops gather and possibly putting the whole crew in danger
Storm: captain, we will capsize at this rate, our fleet will fail; we’re taking too much damage to survive; at this rate, we won’t make it out alive
Luck Runs Out: the entirety of this song is not only Eurylochus challenging Odysseus and questioning his judgment in front of their entire crew, but also insulting Odysseus for the very thing that got 600 men out of Troy alive. It was Odysseus’s wit that ended the war in Troy. It was his wit that moved him to poor Lotus in the cyclops wine. It was wet to tell the cyclops his name was nobody, keeping them from being killed by all the additional cyclops that come to check out the scene.
Odysseus’s pride is what bringsPoseidon wrath, but it’s his width that has gotten 600 men that far.
Keep Your Friends Close: we don’t hear Eurylochus in most of this song, and that’s part of my problem with him. Why the hell is Odysseus staying awake for nine days? Why does he not have anyone on his ship that he can trust to watch the bag for him to close his eyes for 30 minutes? Where is Eurylochus when the other men are opening the bag and letting out the winds of the storm? Why does Odysseus’s second in command not have his back? Why are the men not conscious of the fact that the second in command would also disapprove of their actions? Is it because he wouldn’t? Is it because his constant undermining has encouraged it?
Then the very end, when Odysseus ask for help, closing the bag, what’s Eurylochus’s immediate response? it’s not OK. It’s not yes sir. It’s. “It’s too late.”
Even in the middle of a crisis, he still won’t listen to the captain. He still won’t trust Odysseus’s judgment that ultimately saves them in the end of the saga.
Puppeteer: Only I stayed outside, but the rest went in
Did Eurylochus not even try to stop the men? Does he have such little regard for their safety? He lets them do whatever they want? Has he earned such a little respect that they don’t listen to him?
Like I touched on earlier, if Odysseus listened to Eurylochus’s doubt, not only would all their men be doomed, but Eurylochus and Odysseus as well.
I honestly have so much distain for Eurylochus and his lack of respect for Odysseus. as the listeners and people who know the story, we know just how deep the facts of revealing his name to the cyclops run. But the rest of the men don’t. Eurylochus doesn’t. He just never trusted Odysseus to lead in the first place.
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