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the-californicationist · 5 months

Text

they help you practice

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.

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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baby-yongbok · 10 months

Text

You & Me

Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, idol

✨️Masterlist✨️

Warnings: mentions of wanting to die. (It's just for a second, I swear), Themes of a breakup/ ended relationship

Word Count: 1,460

Note: As soon as I heard Miserable (You & Me) I knew that I had to write based off of the lyrics. So I wrote this in thirty minutes while on anxiety medication that makes me a zombie so I'm sorry if it sucks but I actually love it.

Summary: You and Han's last call is emotional, to say the least.

"Did you tell them yet?" You whispered into your phone receiver. Han was quiet for a second before sighing heavily.

"No… I'm not sure that I know how to. Do I just say, hey guys y/n and I broke up during rehearsal or something?" He lets out a sad chuckle and a ghost of a smile pulls at your lips.

"Just sit them down and tell them, Ji… I don't want you to go through this alone." It's quiet for a few seconds. The dim light in your room embracing you softly, mirroring how you feel inside.

"I'm not going through this alone… you're going through it too."

"You know what I mean, Ji." You sigh, shutting your eyes and leaning your head against your bed's headboard. "You know… we probably won't really talk anymore anyway so -"

"Don't say that." Han's words are rushed but you can still hear the pain behind them. "Of course we can talk."

"About what? Do you want to reminisce about all of our arguments? Or talk about the future we gave up on? Talking to you would just…" Your voice grows smaller as you process your emotions.

"Don't." Han whispers, you can imagine his pained facial expression. Eyes closed and his nose slightly scrunched as he battled his heavy thoughts.

"It would just be painful… for both of us and I don't want you to be in any more pain, Jisung."

"Then let's fix this, y/n… let's figure out the long distance."

"Ji…"

"Please, you don't understand how many times I shut my eyes and hope that when I open them that this is all a dream. For two years you have been my everything, y/n. You have been the center of everything, you are a part of my life and if I have to let you go…if I really have to let you go then I honestly rather be dead."

Tears fall down your cheeks as you bring your knees to your chest and shrink into yourself. You knew that this would be hard when you decided to break up with Han but you also knew that the long distance and constant fighting wasn't what either of you needed or wanted right now. Deep down Han knew that too, he was just too afraid to say it.

"I know that this is hard… I've cried every night since we talked about it but this just can't work… I never see you, Ji… your job is something bigger than the both of us right now and it's not anyone's fault… it's just how your life is designed and right now I don't fit here… we don't fit here." You hear Han sniffle on the other line and you swear that your heart breaks a bit more. The sound only makes your own tears fall heavier.

"Is there someone else?" His question comes out in a whisper. He didn't want to ask it but knowing him he probably couldn't go another second without a solid answer to his intrusive thoughts.

"Of course not."

"Then… then tell me you're still mine, baby, please."

"Jisung… you shouldn't call me that." You pull your lips into a thin line as you take in the silence on the other line. At this point the silence has said more than either of you for this entire conversation.

"Please." His voice is once again barely above a whisper and you bring a hand up over your heart to make sure it's still beating. You're almost positive that the amount of pain in his voice could kill you but you have to try your best to stay strong. But, even if you are staying strong you can't leave him as the only one being vulnerable here, it just wouldn't be fair.

"I think… I think that I'll always be yours, you have my heart, Ji." That was the push that broke the dam for him. You listen helplessly as he sobs into his hands on the other line. You sit quietly trying not to succumb to your heavy emotions as well. The all too familiar silence swallows you both until your emotions seem to calm down a bit and all that's left is the sound of light panting and deep breaths every now and then.

"Do you remember when I came to visit you and I took you to the carnival?" A grin tugs at your lips as you shake your head.

"Yeah, I do, we got on the Ferris wheel because you swore you could handle it but you freaked out the second we started moving." You both chuckle lightly at the memory.

"It was terrifying but… when we got to the top and I looked at you.. and I watched you marvel at the view and that smile on your face when you pointed to the sunset…" He got quiet for a second as he recalled the memory. You could imagine a ghost of a smile across his lips.

"When I saw you looking like that… looking so beautiful, so breathtaking… I wasn't scared anymore, y/n." Now it was your turn to cry. The hand that was over your heart was now over your mouth as you tried your best to muffle your sobs. You knew it was no use, you knew that Han could tell that you were crying but you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to be strong for him.

"I kissed you on top of that Ferris wheel while the sun kissed the horizon and it was then that I knew that I love you."

"That was the first time you said it too." You manage to choke out through your small sobs. "I was so happy."

"I smiled for weeks after that. How could I not? You loved me.. I just.." The smile in his voice faded as reality hit him again. "I just wish that you would love me like that again."

"Han Jisung, I do love you… I love you with all of my heart but this relationship is going to hurt us way more than it is now if we don't take off our rose colored glasses and look at the reality of it all."

Han sighed in defeat, he knew you were right. The two of you weren't doing well with the distance and the dating rumors that social media constantly pushed out was not helping at all. They shipped Han with everyone they could think of which did horrible things for both your anxiety and his. You'd fight over pointless things and though you always made up you'd be fighting again a week later and it became a cycle that you two just couldn't seem to escape from. The last thing that you wanted to do was leave him but this just wasn't how your relationship was meant to go.

"You're my heart, you know? You always will be."

"You're my heart too, Ji."

"When I come to the states… Could I visit you?" He was shy to ask but he had to know if he could see you. It's all he ever wanted to do anyway, he always wanted to be around you. Hugging you, kissing you, cuddling you, and you used to love every second of it.

"You're always welcome here, Ji." You can nearly hear the smile that paints his face.

"And you're always welcome here, y/n… next time you come to Korea I'll show you all of the places I never got to show you while we were together… is that okay with you?" You smiled a sad smile 'while we were together' this is really over, huh?

"Sounds like a plan, Ji." Just as Han is about to reply you hear Changbin calling for him in the background and Han lets out a deep sigh. "Gotta go?"

"Yeah… we have promotions to do." His voice is sad again, small and distant.

"Can you promise that you'll take care of yourself, Ji… for me." Your voice is hopeful and pleading, something that Han can't seem to resist.

"For you, I'd do anything… So yeah, I promise." The silence came back to you both as you tried to figure out how to say goodbye.

"Well… I'll see you around, good luck."

"See you around, y/n.." Neither of you hung up for a couple of seconds, both wanting the other to say one last word. To hear one last breath escape their lips. Neither of you wanted to let go but you knew you had to. Just as you were about to hang up you heard Han's whispered words followed by the call ending. Tears welled up in your eyes once again as his words echoed through your head.

I love you, y/n

411 notes · View notes

yoon-kooks · 1 year

Text

playboys & pancakes | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When your fuckboy model friend Park Jimin returns from Paris, Jungkook can't help but feel a little jealous and protective over you even though the two of you aren't technically dating yet.

⛓️word count: 2.6k

⛓️warnings: catdilf!jk, dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, oc is a lil brat, boy gets jealous🤭, soft cuddling, jimin is a tattooed fuckboy, no explicit smut in this drabble

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: this was a cute lil drabble request for jealous!jjk!! if you make it all the way to the end, there ✨might✨ be a special teaser... lmk if yall would be interested👀

In the middle of class, Jungkook stares at the seat next time him where you’re busy giggling and texting away for some unknown reason. He’s dying to know the context so he can use it against you later to see that pretty smile once more.

“Hey you,” you whisper, leaning over in his direction. It’s rare for the two of you to talk in the classroom since you both agreed it was best to lay low about whatever the fuck this is between you and him. It must be something urgent. “Do you know any cute girls who are single right now?”

Jungkook just blinks at you in utter disbelief. You’re already sick of him, aren’t you? You’d rather fool around with some cute girl than fuck some loser who makes her finish her homework a week before it’s due. Well shit. It was fun while it lasted.

“Asking for a friend,” you add. Not helping, by the way. Could you make it any more obvious that you’re trying to break off this… arrangement between you and him? “My friend said he’s down bad.”

Wait.

You flash your phone screen in Jungkook’s face for him to read what you were presumably giggling about earlier.

Jimin🍄 [10:46AM] “A what tattoo?!🥵🍆”

Jimin🍄 [10:46AM] “Btw please tell me you know a cute girl who is as down bad as I am”

Jimin🍄 [10:47AM] “Paris was not as romantic as they make it out to be”

Y/N✨ [10:48AM] “hold on lemme ask the dilf”

The dilf has a lot of questions. The first being, “You have friends?” He’s mostly just teasing you for lacking genuine friendships despite being so popular, but this is the first time he’s heard you talk about a friend that wasn’t him.

“He’s a friend from high school,” you explain. “He’s been studying abroad for the past few years and just got back yesterday. I’m letting him crash at my place this weekend so we can catch up.”

Hmm. Jungkook wasn’t planning on sharing you with anyone this weekend, but this is a much better scenario than you outright abandoning him for someone else. In fact, he might even know just the right person to satisfy your friend’s needs.

“And why are you calling me a dilf—”

He never gets an answer because the professor calls on you to answer a question on the board. You glance up and give the correct answer with no hesitation despite the distractions next to you and on your phone. Your nerdy side is just as attractive as your bubbly personality.

He’s so lucky to have a girl like you.

“Jimin wants to have brunch with you tomorrow, by the way,” you say on Friday night as you snuggle closer to Jungkook on the couch. It’s one of those rare wholesome nights at his place where you aren’t dripping in pleasure, moaning your little heart out with him inside you. “I told him you’d hook him up with a baddie and now he wants to interrogate you to make sure you have good taste.”

“I think I have pretty good taste.” He looks right at your cute naked face with no makeup on. You’re also borrowing one of his oversized tees and using it as a nightshirt. Obviously, he has amazing taste.

“So you’ll come?” Your smile is so bright. How could he ever say no to that? “We can meet up with him there and go to my place after.”

“Sure,” he says. Besides, he’d like to see this Jimin guy for himself. From what you’ve said about him, he seems like a cool dude studying fashion design. But it’s also kind of fucked up that your closest friend abandoned you here without anyone else to rely on for all those years apart. It’s shitty to think how alone you must’ve felt until the two of you started talking barely a month ago.

“Cool, I think you’ll get along with him,” you yawn into his chest while twirling his hair around your finger. Thank god he decided to let his hair grow out so you could play with it as much as you want. “He’s like you but friendlier and fuckboy-ish.”

“If he’s friendly and fuckboy-ish, how is that like me?” Jungkook isn’t picking up what you’re putting down. He doesn’t like the sound of the fuckboy part, either.

“He has a lot of tattoos and a cute face, but he’s kind of mean in a teasing way. Just like you.” The twirling is slowing down. “A lot of people say he’s super attractive too.”

You reach for your phone that somehow ended up on the other side of the boy and pull up Jimin’s Instagram. Jungkook studies the page and clicks on a pic of your friend all suited up in Dior. Damn. Not only is he handsome, but he also knows how to pose and look good in photos. You kind of left out the part about him being an actual model.

Of course you have another attractive guy friend who enjoys teasing you. Of course this guy happens to be staying with you while he’s “down bad.” And of course Jeon Jungkook is not going to let himself feel a certain way about it.

The next morning, Jungkook wakes up to your arms wrapped around his waist as you’re still snoozing away on the couch. Very carefully, he peels your arms away one at a time, hops out of the blanket, and gives you his sleepy kitten to hold onto in place of him. You make this cute little whiny sound as you cuddle the cat.

Successful in leaving you undisturbed, the boy heads to his room and opens his sorry excuse of a closet. The majority of his wardrobe is just basic shit like hoodies, plain tees, ripped jeans, and sweats for the gym. He’s never really put a whole lot of thought into his fashion, but he woke up this morning with an urge to look somewhat good for brunch. It totally has nothing to do with that fashion model friend of yours.

After a good ten minutes of contemplation, he eventually goes with a nice crewneck and one of the few pairs of black jeans that aren’t all torn up. It’s just brunch anyway.

By then, you’ve woken up and thrown on that pretty beige sundress you left behind a few weeks ago. He’d conveniently washed it for you when he was doing a light load. Now you smell like his lavender laundry soap.

When the two of you get to the brunch place, you claim a booth and wait for Jimin to arrive. Your arm brushes against his as you flap through the menu. The booth is pretty spacious, and yet you’re sitting that close to him. He doesn’t mind, of course.

“I’m gonna get the pink strawberry waffles… but the chocolate banana pancakes look really good, too.” You point at the pictures like a child. “What about you?”

“Chocolate banana pancakes.” He didn’t have his mind made up until that very moment. You’re always stealing his food off his plate these days anyway. He might as well pick something you’ll enjoy.

“Ooh, good, now I can try it too,” you sing. Called it.

“Never said I was sharing,” Jungkook shakes his head. You both know he’s bluffing.

“What do I have to do for a taste?” you ask so innocently while leaning your soft tits against his arm. “Do you want me to get down on my hands and knees and suck dad—”

“Hi Y/N, hey Jungkook.” Your handsome model friend slides into the other side of the booth and interrupts your enticing proposal. Your eyes light up in a way Jungkook has never seen before.

“Jimin!” you smile.

“Hey,” Jungkook adds, a lot less enthusiastic than you. Of course Jimin is even better looking in person.

After ordering, you ask Jimin to spill the deets on his Paris adventures. In addition to an internship, he also did in fact spend some time modeling for a few luxury brands. Now that he’s back home, he’s planning on taking it easy for a bit before moving forward with fashion design.

So that’s why he’s asking for a baddie to kill time with. He can have anyone he wants as long as it’s not you.

As the two friends catch up, Jungkook notices the way you lean forward toward the other boy and laugh at nearly everything he says—although to be fair, he is a pretty funny and charming guy. That’s the kind of guy that would complement your playful personality so well.

The food comes shortly after, and you stare intensely at Jimin’s French toast even though you have a pretty pink waffle right in front of you and Jungkook’s pancakes right beside you.

“Really? The guy who just got back from France ordered French toast?” you snicker, turning to Jungkook to get him on your side. He chuckles, but only because you’re cute when you’re being mischievous.

“Would you like some, Y/N?” Jimin waves off your silliness. He must be used to it because it hardly affects him the way it affected Jungkook.

“Yes, please.” You cut off a small piece of French toast and go in for a taste. It gets not one but two thumbs up from you.

“Still a foodie, I see,” Jimin observes. You nod. He must’ve been the one you were dragging around to different food places back in high school. But now that’s Jungkook’s job, and he’d like to keep it that way.

So Jungkook waits. He waits patiently for you to ask for a taste of his food. After all, he ordered the chocolate banana pancakes with you in mind.

But instead, you’re minding your own business and digging into your pink waffle. Weren’t you offering a whole blowjob for a taste of his pancakes a little while ago? Now you suddenly don’t want it because he’d joked about not sharing it? This is stressing him out more than it should.

You turn and catch the boy next to you aggressively sawing through his pile of pancakes with his butter knife. Hopefully you don’t pick up on his distress.

“Are the pancakes goo—” Before you can finish your question, a few freshly cut pancake pieces are plopped onto your plate beside the pink waffle.

“You said you wanted to try it, didn’t you?” Jungkook tries his best to sound nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

Your Surprised Pikachu face quickly turns into a smug look. “Thought you weren’t sharing,” you hum as you indulge in the moist chocolatey delight. At the same time, your free hand casually runs along the boy’s inner thigh and gives it a squeeze under the table. Playing innocent might be part of your personality, but you know exactly what you’re doing to him. “The pancakes are yummy, by the way.”

Still, your touch is as much of a comfort as it is a turn-on.

“So, are you still interested in the hot girl Jungkook knows?” you ask Jimin. Jungkook hasn’t even shown you a pic of the girl, and yet you’re already hyping her up. You also aren’t aware that it’s someone he’s slept with in the past, but he’ll address that another time.

“Listen, when I said I was down bad,” Jimin lowers his voice, “I meant I need to get laid as soon as possible.”

“Damn, what happened in Paris? Who hurt you?” you frown as you take a big sip of coffee.

“I’ll spill the tea later,” he sighs. Looks like it’s still a touchy subject.

To lift the other boy’s spirit a little, Jungkook pulls up an Instagram page filled with a ton of colorful floral tattoos. If you scroll down enough, you might even find a few pics of his tattoos there too.

“She’s a tattoo artist.” He rolls up his sleeve and points out a few floral pieces that match the style from the Instagram page. “She doesn’t really post pics of herself, but she probably has more tattoos and piercings than me.”

“And she’s hot,” you add in even though that’s already been established.

“I’ll ask if she’s free.” Jungkook pulls up her contact info and shoots her a message. She responds right away.

Jungkook🐍 [11:39AM] “Do you have time for a walk-in today?”

Jungkook🐍 [11:39AM] “I know a guy who’s interested in you”

???🌼 [11:40AM] “😳”

Jungkook🐍 [11:40AM] “interested in your tattoos**”

???🌼 [11:40AM] “😔”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “todays been slow pls send him my way thx”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “tell him he gets a discount if hes cute”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “IM KIDDING PLS DONT TELL HIM THAT ILL GET CANCELED”

“Yeah she’s free right now,” Jungkook says, trying to keep a straight face. “I’ll give you the address to her studio.”

“Ooh, perfect,” you squeak at Jimin who still doesn’t look completely sold on the whole thing. “You can scout it out as soon as we’re done here.”

“Wait, are you sure it’s okay? I know I said I needed this asap, but I’m mostly here to visit you,” he says.

“Well, now that you’re back from overseas, we can hang out anytime. I’m not going anywhere,” you assure him, downing the rest of your coffee. You’re such a good friend. “And besides, it could be life-changing sex waiting for you at the tattoo shop.”

Jimin nods at your encouragement. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll go.”

“Good.” You slide your ass right over Jungkook’s lap to get out of the booth. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t lean into it a little. “Be right back. I drank too much liquid.”

With you off to the bathroom, Jungkook sits alone across from the other boy. It always gets awkward when the mutual friend disappears. What are they supposed to talk about now that you’re gone?

“So… are you two, like, dating…?” Jimin wastes no time in addressing the elephant in the room. “Y/N always avoids the question whenever I ask.”

“What makes you ask?” The question is mostly to stall time until you get back, but Jungkook is also curious to know what you’ve said about him.

“The way she talks about you makes it seem like you guys are married,” he chuckles. Wow, he has a charming eye smile too. Jungkook would’ve been threatened by that level of charm, but he seems to have already let go of that feeling. “She told me you’re raising a kitten together and that you’re always scolding or spoiling it like a true dilf—her words, not mine. She won’t shut up about how you’ll make a good dad one day.”

At least he knows where the dilf propaganda comes from now. He’ll admit it’s a lot more wholesome than he thought. You really do just gush about him to your best friend. Maybe you feel the same way he does when it comes to this unestablished relationship between you and him.

Maybe you also want something more.

When you return, you finish up your food, split the bill, and send Jimin on his way to the tattoo studio. Hopefully, it goes well for him. Not because Jungkook is worried the other boy might turn around and try something funny on you, but because he wants any friend of yours to experience the same type of feelings he feels when he’s with you. Damn. He wasn’t expecting to get all gushy this weekend, but he’s not going to fight it either.

“What’d you guys talk about while I was in the bathroom?” you ask on the way back to the car.

“Not much,” Jungkook shrugs. “Just about you calling me a dilf.”

“Oh no, I feel so exposed,” you whine in your favorite sarcastic tone. Then you turn to him and bat your lashes. Brat. “Am I wrong, though?”

a/n: okay i dont normally put notes like this at the end of my fics, but im gonna tease a potential jimin spinoff💖 lmk what you guys think!

⛓️pairing: model!jimin x tattooartist!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, fwb2l, possible angst (??)

⛓️summary: After breaking up with your on-and-off boyfriend for hopefully the last time, an old fling sends his handsome model friend to your tattoo studio. And apparently, he’s as done with love as you are.

⛓️warnings: jimin & oc are both heartbroken and starved for sex (as you might have noticed from this drabble lol), oc is an actual baddie with tattoos everywhere and a belly piercing, there will be a lot more warnings if i decide to go through with this!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook

2K notes · View notes

good-chimes · 1 year

Text

THE H.T.G.Y. FILES

Project team notes: Vat growth stage has been successful. Please note project is titled Human Tactical Ground-unit Y (H.T.G.Y.) and this is the only designation that should be used. Lab technicians who continue to use slang term hotguy will be written up.

Senior researcher CUB-135 has been called in to consult. Please give him access to all non-sensitive files.

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Well, hello there!

CUB-135: Hi. How’s it, uh. How’s it going?

HTGY: How’s it going? Huh, that’s the first time someone’s asked me that. Wait a minute. I know that one. How’s it going. Oh, oh, I got it. It’s going great!

CUB-135: …Cool.

HTGY: Yeah. Yeah. Isn’t it great to be alive and awake? How’s it treating you?

CUB-135: It’s magnificent.

HTGY: [laughing] Magnificent. Oh, I like that. Who are you, my friend?

CUB-135: I’m a consultant. Cub-one-three-five. The project team dragged me in because I wrote the genome.

HTGY: Consultant…. So you’re the one who does their thinking for them, huh?

CUB-135: [surprised laugh] Yeah.

HTGY: Well, I’m telling you, they need it. Buncha people prodding me to see if I can stand up! You can just ask that, can’t you? A man’s gotta have space, Cub. A man’s gotta do things under his own steam.

CUB-135: Yeah, I guess. Yeah.

HTGY: [conspiratorial] Here’s a question. Got a lot of things in my head, Cub. The ol’ memory’s all messed up. I’m new, right?

CUB-135: You’re new. That’s right.

HTGY: I thought so! How new?

CUB-135: Uhh… three days? Three days and two hours.

HTGY: Thank you! Finally. Can’t get a straight answer out of anyone here.

CUB-135: …you want your genome notes?

HTGY: Boy, do I! What’s a genome?

CUB-135: Uh. Okay. Let’s see what we can do. I need some files. A lotta files.

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Oh, we have to stop.

CUB-135: Yeah?

HTGY: That noise means I gotta be somewhere.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Just more prodding and check-ups, I guess. Can’t take long. Come back, okay? I'll be here, at least I guess I'll be here. I've been here all the time so far. Tomorrow?

CUB-135: …

CUB-135: Alright. Tomorrow.

DEATH COUNT: 1

Project team notes: First trial (subject vs two skeletons obtained from Lab 2E spawner) did not meet expectations. Subject (H.T.G.Y.) is slow to grasp the basics of hand-to-hand combat despite neural implants. Speed below benchmark. Precision poor. Regeneration not fast enough to alter outcome of combat.

Although a disappointing start to the project, there are promising leads in some areas. Combat abilities expected to improve through repetition. Deficiencies in combat conversely allow better collection of regeneration data.

Subject observation: when returned to room, subject spent six hours seated and unmoving. Scheduling next test for tomorrow.

[CUB-135 OBSERVATIONS]

note to self, find a way to phrase: ‘he was a project for faster injury regeneration, you fucking amateurs, nothing in that genome makes him magically good at fighting’ in a way that doesn’t include the phrase ‘you fucking amateurs’. difficult problem.

going back in. this one will be less fun.

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Hey, it’s Mister Does-The-Thinking! Cub, hey, Cub!

CUB-135: Hey.

HTGY: You’re looking serious today. What’s up?

CUB-135: I’m good. I’m good.

HTGY: That’s what I like to hear. Can’t have the big-brain guy down in the dumps.

CUB-135: How was yesterday?

HTGY: Ohhh. Yesterday, Cub, yesterday. I don’t think I’m that good at fighting. There were a lot of very unhelpful skeletons, Cub. A lot of them! Really mean! I think it’s going to be regular. I am not looking forward to that.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Any chance you can make it, y’know. Fewer monsters? They hurt.

CUB-135: Sorry, man. I don’t set the tests.

HTGY: Naw, I didn’t think so. You don’t look like a guy in charge.

CUB-135: Is that right?

HTGY: You’re just, you know [hand gesture] … laid back. I like that about you.

CUB-135: Uh.

HTGY: So. Cub. Cub, Cub, Cub.

CUB-135: …yeah?

HTGY: I’ve got this thing in my head. The sky.

CUB-135: The sky? Like… all of it?

HTGY: I dunno! You people put some pictures in my memories when you made me, I think. Horizons, clouds—I know they’re made of water, but how does that work? I saw a bit during the fight and it was kind of grey? Talk me through clouds, Cub. You’re good at explaining. And the rest of it! Where does it stop? What’s above it?

CUB-135: Oh, dude. Let me tell you… let me tell you about space.

To: +Team_Members_HTGY_Project

From: CUB-135

Y’all,

I looked at your trial notes. Project lead asked for my thoughts. My thoughts:

- inefficient; - could get the same regeneration data from tissue samples; - waste of skeletons.

You want to find another way. The combat unit thing was doomed from the start. If you want a supersoldier you should start over with a ravager.

have a real one,

Cub

Project team notes: One-month project milestone. Consultancy from CUB-135 has started to be more of a problem than an asset. Unfortunately he is the only one who understands how to process the regeneration data so assistance remains necessary for now. Upskilling of team analysts in progress.

Test continue. H.T.G.Y. has been given a variety of weapons and results range from abysmal (sword) to mediocre (bow). Subject has so far lost to every creature put in front of him. If the combat goals of this project are to be met, a better training regime will be needed.

On a separate note: great interest from sponsors in mid-combat regeneration data. A variety of tests has been requested.

New data storage links: EXPLOSION (creeper) – File CR93; FIRE BURN (wood) – File FR02; FIRE BURN (other) – File FR03; BLOOD LOSS – File IN20; VENOM – File VM07, UNCATEGORIZED – UN45-UN51.

DEATH COUNT: 23

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: You know what the problem is?

CUB-135: I can guess?

HTGY: I’m so bored.

CUB-135: Okay. Didn’t see that coming.

HTGY: I’m so bored. Honestly, I’m bored most of the time. Except when I’m getting killed, which isn’t great either. Or when you’re here—you know I appreciate you, Cub, you’re a great guy, don’t get me wrong. But you’re only around every couple of days, and it’s the bits in between.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Can’t you clone yourself, or something, and leave one here?

CUB-135: Nah, outside my specialism. Hm. You talked to Mumbo much? Mumbo’s always around.

HTGY: The lab system?

[null]: Hello. Can I answer a query?

HTGY: Oh, hi, Mumbo. Yeah, I’ve talked to Mumbo. But let’s be honest, he’s not much of one to start conversations. I can never think of things to ask.

[null]: What I can communicate to subjects on this level has been restricted by administrators.

HTGY: See?

CUB-135: Get him to show you… I dunno. Cat videos. Space stuff. Forests. They won’t have locked that down.

HTGY: Forests. Yeah! Okay. Mumbo?

[null]: I’m allowed to show pictures of forests. How’s this?

HTGY: Look at that. So green. So many trees! How close is that picture from here?

CUB-135: Kinda nearby, I think. Looks like a research shot from where they caught the spiders. Lots of the wild subjects in here came from close by.

HTGY: Amazing. Hey, Cub, can you get them to take me to a forest? Tree training! Beat the spiders in their own home!

CUB-135: Why not? I’ll ask.

HTGY: They’ll say no. But it’s good to think of it out there.

Project team notes: Six-month project milestone. Useful data continues to accumulate. HTGY has improved with bow and crossbow, and survival rate has risen to one in ten encounters.

Unfortunately, a new issue has arisen in subject cooperation. Most tests are set up to incentivize survival, making attitude irrelevant. However non-lethal tests require participation, which has previously been forthcoming from the subject, until yesterday when he refused to participate at all.

CUB-135 seems to have a rapport. Suggest he talks with subject to encourage better attitude. This would be the first useful thing CUB-135 has done in weeks.

DEATH COUNT: 97

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

CUB-135: Hey. What’s up.

HTGY: Oh. Hey.

CUB-135: Not feeling it today?

HTGY: I knew it. I know why you’re here. I know why they sent you to talk to me.

CUB-135: Try me.

HTGY: It was a cat, Cub. I’ll take the fights. I’ll take the training machines, they break half the time anyway. I’ll take the spiders and the skeletons and the creepers and the fact I know way too much about what my bones look like. But I’m not shooting a cat! I don’t care if it’s safe target practice. I’m not doing it!

CUB-135: Yeah. Okay.

HTGY: …

CUB-135: So what do you wanna talk about today?

HTGY: You’re not gonna try and convince me?

CUB-135: Naw.

HTGY: Cub, I’m not shooting anything that’s not trying to kill me.

CUB-135: Yeah, I know.

HTGY: You know?

CUB-135: I read your test notes. I can guess.

HTGY: Aw, you read my test notes? You care! Don’t pretend you don’t, I can see through it.

CUB-135: What can I say. You’re an interesting guy.

HTGY: I knew it! Oh, hey, Cub, you know what? I came up with a new name for myself. What do you think—[dramatic hand gesture]—Scar.

CUB-135: …

HTGY: Cool, right?

CUB-135: Scar. Yeah. It’s cool.

Project team notes: CUB-135 entirely unhelpful. Schedule escalation meeting with bioprojects lead.

[message log start]

Lead (bioprojects): Well, you got what you originally wanted. You’re off the HTGY project.

cub-135: wait, what?

Lead (bioprojects): You’re no longer permitted in the labs on that level. I need you to turn in your badge for reprogramming.

cub-135: oh man

cub-135: here’s the thing

cub-135: i lost it

Lead (bioprojects): You lost your BADGE?

cub-135: yeah i’ve just been following people through the access doors

Lead (bioprojects): That’s against all policy. I don’t think that’s even possible. How do you get lunch?

cub-135: cheat code on the cash register. up up down down A B.

Lead (bioprojects): You’re not funny. Find your badge and turn it in to get your HTGY level access revoked.

cub-135: oh yeah. i’ll get to that.

Lead (bioprojects): You’re lucky you’re good at your job.

cub-135: just trying my best here, man

Lead (bioprojects): No interference. If the team complain to me about you again, you’re getting demoted to junior lab tech. Leave the project alone.

cub-135: sure boss.

cub-135: you got it.

[Lead(bioprojects) has disconnected]

Project Team Notes: Eight-month project milestone. Sponsors pleased with regeneration data. Two papers have been published to modest but positive reception.

After period of progress with HTGY’s survival rates in combat, improvement has levelled off. Subject appears to have less energy for reasons that are unclear. Random observational checks found subject watching cat videos at all hours of the day. Changes in diet and test structure have been tested to no effect. Rest time has been experimentally increased.

DEATH COUNT: 167

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Hey, Cub! Long time no see!

Cub: Yeah, sorry, man. Some admin bullshit.

HTGY: Your badge looks different.

Cub: Made it myself. How’s the tests?

HTGY: Oh, let’s not talk about those. You know what, I actually decided I’m not going to remember something if it’s not worth it. All the fights are the same and they keep doing them. So! I’ve been thinking. Cub. Cub. I want a cat. Can I get a cat?

Cub: …

HTGY: Just a little one. I’ve seen some options. Mumbo has pictures.

Cub: Dunno, dude. I can try. Might be tricky.

HTGY: [sigh] I guess you’re right. It…wouldn’t be happy, would it? Yeah. We can’t have that.

CUB: Sorry.

HTGY: No, no, it’s all right. I don’t want to make something unhappy. It was just a thought.

CUB-135: What’s on the screen?

HTGY: [brightens up] Oh, this? Dude, I wanted to show you this! Mumbo has this drawing program where you can build houses. This is my idea for a forest house. I think you could do it with three kinds of wood and you could have, you know, all these trees over it. What do you think? I mean, I know we’ll never see a forest. But imagine it in your mind.

CUB: … You know what, my friend, you’re really something.

HTGY: Why thank you. You could say the same of yourself—come on, Cub, don’t be shy. Take the compliment!

CUB-135: I don’t—

[silence]

HTGY: Don’t what?

CUB-135: [abruptly] I dunno how much more I can take.

HTGY: …

CUB-135: I—what am I even doing? What are we doing? There’s nothing to change. There’s no way to change anything.

HTGY: … You could get me a cat.

CUB-135: I can’t! I can barely get around the access readers! I can’t even get into the project files! Ten years of research and I feel dumb, Scar, I could solve everything until I couldn’t. What would you do if you weren’t in here? Man, that’s such a stupid question. I don’t even know what I’d do if I wasn’t in here. My references are gonna be shot. Maybe I should have paid attention to something else, maybe I should have done anything else—

HTGY: I’d like to see some forests.

CUB-135: Huh?

HTGY: You said ‘what would I do’. I’d go and see some forests.

CUB-135: …

CUB-135: Forests, huh.

HTGY: Anyway, that’s not going to happen, so I guess we don’t want to waste time on it! They need you here. And you guys need me here. Right?

CUB-135: …

HTGY: Right, Cub-one-three-five?

CUB-135: Y’know something, Scar? Sometimes I think you do more thinking more than you let on.

HTGY: Huh? Naw. Why’s your badge gone red?

CUB-135: Oh shit. Shit. I gotta go.

[message log start]

cub-135: listen boss

cub-135: first you bump me off the HTGY project, and now i’ve just had my name taken off the ravager patent. that’s my own work.

cub-135: this keeps happening. it’s not okay.

Lead (bioprojects) : CUB-135, for the last time, this was what you signed up for. It’s the same for all researchers. You have to put the time in while you move up the ladder.

Lead (bioprojects): Have you just noticed this is how the whole laboratory works?

cub-135: oh

cub-135: i’m noticing

cub-135: i’m noticing lots of things about this place

Lead (bioprojects): Good. If you have an issue, focus on your work and get promoted.

cub-135: yeah, see, actually

cub-135: if nothing changes, i’m going to leave. and i’ll take all my intellectual property with me.

Lead (bioprojects): Hah! Check your employment papers; you’re on a 10-year contract. It’s watertight. And even if you could get out of it, you’re banned from taking paper or data chips out of lab grounds.

cub-135: yeah?

cub-135: okay.

[cub-135 has disconnected]

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

CUB-135: Hey. Scar. Scar.

HTGY: Cub! What’s with the doohickey? It—oh, wow. That just zapped the light. Amazing.

CUB-135: Mumbo, lock transcript.

[null]: Transcript locked.

CUB-135: Okay. So. I made this thing to hijack the redstone gate down by the Drowned spawners on Lab 3B. It screws up the signal so you can get through. There’s a reservoir behind it. I put in a bubble elevator that will take you up outside the walls. I’ve got to stay behind to take out the cameras while you do it. Then I’ll get out with the evening shift.

HTGY: Wait, so I just take this and run? What if they find out about you?

CUB-135: If you do that I’m screwed, man. So don’t tell them.

HTGY: Yeah?

CUB-135: …Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. You could turn me in.

[silence]

CUB-135: Maybe you should. Yeah, all right. I guess, just—oh.

HTGY: Relax! Anyone would think you’d never had a hug.

CUB-135: …

HTGY: My friend. My friend, we are going to see some forests.

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: The speed! The precision!

CUB-135: Whew. Man. You did nearly drown.

HTGY: What’s important here is that I didn’t, because I am an elite escape artist. And you got out too, so I guess we can share the title.

CUB-135: We’re not far enough to say that yet. I’d bet we’re still in range of the lab systems.

HTGY: Details, details.

CUB-135: You’re bleeding.

HTGY: Oh man, I know, that was from the last test. It doesn’t matter.

CUB-135: Give me that.

HTGY: Fussy! What are you, a grandpa? Ow.

CUB-135: If you don’t stop and let me fix it you’re going to lose that finger. And I can’t grow it again when we don’t have the redstone vats.

HTGY: You were never this fussy before.

CUB-135: Yeah, well. Who even did it?

HTGY: I don’t…

[silence]

HTGY: Huh. Cub, you know what, I don’t…remember.

HTGY: Hey, though. Who everything filed and stored like a nerd? Who needs all their memories where we’re going? We’re getting out! Onwards!

[silence]

HTGY: Cub. Cub.

HTGY: Don’t look like that.

HTGY: It wasn’t your fault.

[silence]

CUB-135: Scar, I dunno what I’m doing.

HTGY: I’ve never known what I’m doing.

CUB-135: [laughs] You are…something, my friend. You are something.

HTGY: We don’t know what we're doing. And that’s amazing. Because aren’t you excited to find out?

Author's note: Hey, thanks for reading to the end! There's a better formatted version of this on Ao3 under username glossyblue. I've got a lot of this au but thought this stood alone well enough that someone might enjoy it. Hope you enjoyed, have a great day.

#convex #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #lab escape au #fic #glossywrites

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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

Text

Young and Rich, Tall and Just Ask Me Out Already

wc: 2.1k pronouns: n/a; none used warnings: none really? maybe the tiniest bit of angst... fluff... and i used the word d*ck once, my bad also you can pretend they're in college or high school, doesn't really matter summary: prepschool!ricky/richboy!ricky just can't get scholarshipkid!reader to go out with him no matter how many helicopters he lands in the school courtyard ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ guys... whoah... rich-boy-with-a-soft-side ricky just kind of hits different? i must say i outdid myself with this one so please, please, please enjoy :)

Ricky has been trying to convince you to go on a date with him for two weeks now.

The first time he asked you was after Chemistry one afternoon. You had been assigned as lab partners at the beginning of the semester and shared a desk during class every Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 1:10 to 2:40 P.M.

At first, you'd found it kind of difficult to relate to Ricky. His dad was a CEO at some big tech company and he didn't really let anyone forget it. Always flaunting his designer watch with the newest phone model in hand, entire classes full of students couldn't help but fall for him as he draped his Louis Vuitton jacket casually over one shoulder.

But you were just "the scholarship kid". A humble upbringing and a borderline genius IQ, attending this prep academy was an opportunity you and your family could never have turned down.

Working on labs with Ricky wasn't difficult-- mainly because he let you do all the work while he listened to music and played on his phone. But if you were being honest, you didn't really mind. You enjoyed working on the labs at your own (fast) pace and you didn't have to worry about a lab partner messing up your data.

You never disliked Ricky. But you also could never really figure out what to say to him when he talked so expensive and acted so expensive...

And looked so expensive.

But after a few weeks of silent lab work together (and a handful of flunked quizzes returned to Ricky's desk), the tall blonde suddenly turned to you with his latest graded test in hand.

"What did you get?" He asked, eyes peering over to try to get a glimpse at your paper.

"Oh, um..." You placed it flat on the table.

His eyes widened in surprise. "105? Again!?"

"What do you mean 'again'? How do you know that?" You questioned, looking back at him suspiciously.

He completely ignored your question. "There wasn't even a bonus question on this one! Where did the extra points come from?"

"The mini-essay I submitted last night on chemical kinetics."

He stared at you for a moment. "You're kind of weird, you know that?"

You nodded. "I guess you would think that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He questioned, dark eyebrows furrowing.

"Do you want me to help you or not? I would think calling me weird wouldn't really help persuade me," you quipped, snatching his test from his hand and reading the grade circled in red pen: 63.

"Hey! Don't--," he protested, trying to steal the paper back to no avail as you slid it into your bag and zipped it closed. "I didn't even ask you for help yet."

"You were obviously going to. You've barely said one word to me in four weeks, so. I'm pretty sure you weren't just making friendly conversation."

Ricky blinked back at you silently for a moment. "It's not like you've said anything to me either."

"I'll look over your test to see what you need to improve on. Do you have the rest of the quizzes from this month with you?" You asked quickly, standing up from your seat and slinging your bag over your shoulder as the bell rang.

"Uh, no I don't," he admitted, not making any move to get up now that class had ended.

"Okay, well--."

"But I'll bring them tonight. To the library," he interrupted.

You stood there silently, not really sure what to say.

"Be there at 9," he said definitively, a grin suddenly spreading across his face as he stood up, grabbed his bag, and started walking towards the door.

"You--... Do you think I don't have a life or something? I... What if I had plans!?"

"You did not have plans," he said with a laugh. Just before he walked out the door, he turned over his shoulder to add, "But now you do. With me."

It was like that, how you started tutoring Ricky late nights at the library. You met after 9 P.M. the days that you had class together, going over the material you'd covered that afternoon. He was a surprisingly passable student and you started to wonder if failing his classes was somehow intentional. He started offering to help you with lab work as the weeks went on, messing up detrimentally only a handful of times but you did appreciate his effort if nothing else.

Your tutoring was definitely helping; Ricky's quizzes came back now with passing grades that had even once reached the height of a 91. But what you didn't want Ricky to know was that he was helping you, too.

He had been right that day: you hadn't had any plans that night. And you rarely did. It was hard to fit in with the other students at your school when they had all led such different lives than you. You could have never guessed in a million years that Ricky would eventually become something like your friend.

Ricky made you laugh. He sharpened your pencils for you. He brought you snacks you liked. He'd let you borrow his Nintendo Switch for the day, as long as you promised to give it back to him in class. You hated to admit it, but a few weeks into your tutoring sessions and there was much less studying going on than was originally intended.

And another thing you hated (not really) to admit: you liked Ricky.

Sure, he could be a little overconfident. A little braggadocios. A little too reliant on his daddy's money.

But late at night in the library, you both grew tired together and the sleep deprivation gave way to a much more vulnerable Ricky. He'd tell you about his family, his childhood, his favorite things, his troubles, his dreams... and he'd listen carefully to you when you shared yours, too.

One time, after sharing a surprisingly upsetting childhood memory involving his father, you could see Ricky's eyes start to water. He tried to brush it off, adjusting his watch as the walls of the persona began to build back up in defense. But before you could stop yourself, your hand had reached across the table and landed on top of his.

He stared at it for awhile before looking up to meet your eyes. "Thanks," he said quietly, swallowing with uncertainty.

You removed your hand and placed it back in your lap. "Sorry," you replied awkwardly.

"No, no, you're cute," he said quickly, a hand flying to cover his mouth when he saw the expression on your face and realized what he had said. "I--I--... I meant 'cool'. Like... Like I meant to say 'you're cool', as in, like, 'don't worry about it'."

His babbling just made you smile. "Freudian slip?"

"Exactly," he agreed hastily. "Wait, no!"

"Too late, no take backs," you blurt, flipping your textbook to the next page to continue with your notes. Your heart absolutely raced inside your chest when you heard Ricky lightly breathe out a laugh before following your lead and resuming his note-taking.

Ricky certainly had a public image he wanted to portray, but whenever he gave you a glimpse underneath the facade... that was when you couldn't help but fall.

So when he asked you out for the first time, sun shining as you walked together from Chemistry to the student lounge on a Friday afternoon, your stomach absolutely flipped with excitement.

"I'm gonna take you to dinner," Ricky said, hand combing through his blonde, coiffed hair.

"Like--... Like on a date?" You clarified, looking up at him to try to read his expression. But much to your dismay, he was looking straight ahead, not at you.

"Yeah," he responded flippantly, hands finding his pockets. "There's this new place that opened downtown that's, like, mega exclusive. Figured you can't say no to that."

"No."

"Exactly... Wait, what?" Ricky stopped in his tracks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"No thanks," you repeated. Looking at him now, you could tell exactly who was standing in front of you. No matter how much you liked Ricky, you didn't want to go on a date with this persona of his.

You wanted to go on a date with Ricky.

"Oh..." He replied, shock written all over his face. He swallowed hard and you swore you could see his cheeks start to redden with embarrassment.

"I really like you, Ricky," you clarified with a smile as you watched his eyebrows shoot up at the confession. "But no thank you."

You didn't wait around to field any possible questions. Turning on your heels, you headed off in the direction of your dorm leaving Ricky absolutely dumbfounded in the campus courtyard.

The next time he asked you out, it was in the hallway before class the following Monday. He handed you a small, light blue gift box, his eyes looking everywhere except at you.

You suppressed a smile, opening the box to find a dainty, rose gold bangle with the signature Tiffany T-shaped cuff ends. After having a mini heart attack over how much the bracelet in your hands must've cost, you took a deep breath to maintain your composure.

"I can't accept this," you managed, though you had to admit you were a bit sad to refuse it (and to refuse him a second time).

Ricky stared back at you, absolutely astonished. "Why... Why not?"

"I really like you, Ricky," you confessed again. "But I'll have to say no thank you."

As your professor called for everyone to take their seats, you hurried inside the classroom and left Ricky to trail in behind you completely stunned once more.

Ricky has asked you out about eight more times since that day. Each time, the simple question is skirted around and instead replaced with more and more elaborate and expensive gestures.

Now, it's 9:30 on a Friday night and you're typing away on your laptop, working on a paper that isn't due until the end of the semester when Ricky bursts through the doors of the library and darts straight towards your usual table.

"Are you seeing someone else?" He blurts out, catching his breath as he stands in front of you waiting for an answer. His hair falls boyishly across his forehead and he's dressed in a a hoodie and black joggers. You get the impression he had rushed here suddenly without any preparation and he looks so stupid cute.

"No," you reply, chewing on your cheeks to keep from smiling.

"Are you interested in men?"

"Unfortunately."

"You keep saying you like me and then you refuse to go out with me. Do you like me?" He asks, a little too loud for a library, but you're both lucky there's no one else that would be studying on a Friday night.

"I do," you confirm, watching as his eyes grow a bit more pleading as he wrestles with his own confusion.

"Then... Please... Will you please go out with me? I like spending time with you so much. I like talking to you so much. I really, really like you, (Y/N). Will you please just give me a chance?"

"Of course," you answer immediately.

"Yeah, I get it, I get--." Ricky's eyes suddenly light up as he realizes what you said. "REALLY?"

You nod, biting your lip in a satisfied smile and throwing your laptop into your backpack. "Let's go right now!"

He blinks quickly, following you as you stand up and walk towards the door. "Right now? But you--."

"Ricky, I don't really have any time to waste. I've been waiting for you to ask me out for two weeks now! Can you blame me for being a bit eager?"

"What... what do you mean? I've asked you out, like, a dozen times," he says as you step outside into the cool evening air, grabbing your wrist to stop you in your tracks.

You smile up at him. "No, you haven't."

"Yes, I--," he starts to protest, but you cut him off.

"You've told me you're taking me to an exclusive restaurant. You've bought me designer jewelry. You've given me an autographed poster from WayV. You've hired the Vienna Philharmonic to play at the student lounge. You've landed a helicopter in the middle of the courtyard..."

You watch as realization begins to wash over his face. His mouth hangs open a bit as he processes his numerous missteps. Then, a hand finds its way to the back of his neck as he smiles at you sheepishly. "Oh."

"So I've been waiting very patiently, you see."

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," he says with a smile, and then more solemnly he adds, "And I'm really sorry for being a total dick."

"Well, you're in luck. The only way to make it up to me is to get late night pancakes with me. And it just so happens, that I am incredibly hungry right now," you say, taking his hand and starting to pull him in the direction of the parking lot.

Ricky laces your fingers together as he falls in step with you. "Oh! I know the best place for pancakes, it's--."

You clear your throat and he stops his thought in its tracks.

"The diner?" He asks, looking to you for approval.

You nod, giggling back at him. "The diner."

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letstripdotcom · 4 months

Text

daylight- chris sturniolo x reader

summary: chris has caused enough trouble at somerville high school to where the teachers have had enough. they give him the choice of either failing him to where he won’t graduate on time or pairing him side by side with the little miss perfect of his school.

warnings: language, suggestive

Chris’s pov:

“chris this can not keep happening” my counselor scolded, typing something into her computer. i slouched back into my chair and rolled my eyes.

“can you please calm down it’s gonna be fine. i’m not a child.” i growled. “if you don’t want to get treated like a child, christopher, don’t act like one. your actions have consequences”

“actions, consequences, blah blah blah. i’ve heard it all. i don’t care about the detentions, the suspensions, i don’t care about any of that. fuck it! expel me for all i care!” i yelled.

“i’m not gonna expel you chris, and i’m not doing anything else” she paused. “but you need someone keeping an eye on you at all times, just in case. so i’m gonna assign a student of my choice, and they’re gonna be with you the entire time you’re here”

“no fucking way!” i scolded. “you’re not gonna get me some babysitter no way in hell.” she stared at me. “you don’t have a choice, christopher. you’ve gone way too far”

“and what are you going to do if i refuse?” i contested her.

“i guess i’ll just fail you, and you won’t graduate the rest of your class.” she shrugged “no fucking way! what about my brothers?” i stood up. “language christopher! and your brothers aren’t the ones causing trouble here!”

“fuck this! i’m leaving” i grumbled accepting my defeat “your new friend and i will see you tomorrow christopher!” she called. i turned around to look at her “you may make me do this but i’m not gonna be friends with anyone” “have a good day christopher!”

i stormed out of the counselors office and went back to class. i sat in my classroom all day wondering who she could possibly pick to be my ‘friend’ for god knows how long.

i examined every person surrounding me. i imagined what the rest of the school year would be like with each person. whoever it was, i wasn’t excited. i went home for the day, dreading my return tomorrow.

the next day, i was in 1st period when i heard my name over the loud speaker. “christopher sturniolo to the counselors office please” i made my way down the hall and into the office. when i got there i was greeted by the one and only y/n, y/l/n.

no. fucking. way.

“hey chris! i’m y/n” she held out her hand. i did the nice thing and shook it because she’s y/n, why wouldn’t i. y/n was insanely smart, too smart. and she was a perfectionist. she got all a’s, her clothes were pink and perfect, her hair didn’t have a single fly away, let alone split end, and she was the kindest person to ever exist.

she couldn’t say a negative thing about anyone. even when someone was rude to her she would just smile and nod. i don’t know how she took it, but she did. but it’s not like people were often rude to her. evryone loved her. but she didn’t have a designated ‘friend group’ it’s like she liked everyone but loved no one.

she was also gorgeous. everything about her was perfect. her perfect cheerleader physique, her thick but tamed hair her perfect teeth, creating a perfect smile. everything about her was amazing.

she cleared her throat, breaking me out of my thoughts. “well chris, are you ready to head back to class?” she asked. “y-yeah let’s go” we started walking down the hall back to my first period. “so are you just taking all my classes now?” i questioned.

“no actually, i just attend your classes with you, and i complete mine online.” she explained. i nodded. we entered my first hour with her behind me. everyone watched as she took a seat in the desk next to mine, opening her laptop. we continued the rest of the day like this.

y/n’s pov

walking around with chris all day was miserable. i know i’m good at faking a nice persona, but with someone like him it’s hard. he has no manners, no decency and no brain at all. it’s like trying to teach math to an animal. you just can’t do it.

the next day was exactly the same

i sighed as he tapped on my shoulder for the 12th time this morning. “can i help you chris” i turned to face him. “i don’t get this problem” i rolled my eyes “chris this is the same as the last 10! what do you not understand”

“sorry!” he huffed i rolled my eyes and assisted him. “i’m not here to be your personal recourse, i’m here because you can’t act like a fucking human, don’t forget” i turned back to what i was doing. “k” was all he said. no way could i deal with this any longer.

“you know y/n you’re not as nice as you pretend to be are you” he questioned. “why would i be nice to you?” i bit back. “i didn’t choose to be your fucking babysitter and it’s not my fault you’re so fucking childish.”

he clenched his jaw and nodded his head. “yeah ok” he grumbled. i couldn’t help but recognize how hot he looked when he was mad. i may not like his attitude, but i’m not blind. chris is very attractive.

“you know chris you would be really hot if you weren’t such a dick”

and that’s how i ended up on my knees in chris sturniolos bedroom as he stood in front of me, the both of us completely naked.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

part one tehehehe🤗

can’t wait for shit to get good

also short chapter but just you wait 😏

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo

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deerspherestudios · 9 months

Note

Hey! I just recently met and went through the demo of "Mushroom Oasis", and I already have so many questions! I hope I won't be too intrusive. You may not answer some questions if the answers contain spoilers.

Questions about the game: 1.Will it be possible to choose the MC gender? Is it possible to choose the gender of the cat in the same way? It's just that when I started the game, I named the cat after my cat and it was a little funny to me when the pronoun of the cat was "she" when my cat is male.

Will we be able to choose some kind of "style" for the MC, according to the type of clothing, at the beginning of the game?

Questions about Michael:

Does he see the world like an ordinary person? I mean he has 2 pairs of eyes and 3 pairs of pupils. And it baffles me.

If the MC suddenly goes out alone and doesn't come back by midnight, will Mychael worry about the MC and will he go looking for the MC?

How does Mychael feel about piercings and tattoos? Does he know about it? If so, would he like a piercing/tattoo?

I wonder where Mychael gets things for the house. That is, I saw that he had a broom, thread and knitting needles. Where did he get them???

If Mychael saw me (I'm 164 cm tall and I have red hair), would he think I'm some kind of witch, because of the color of my hair, or something like that? How would he react if he saw me?

And sorry for the mistakes, I used google translator. English is not my native language :( I also want to say that I am your fan from Latvia (I don’t know why I’m saying this, I just want to please you with the fact that you have a fan from the Baltic countries)

Oop!! Ty for the questions!! Let me try and answer em under the cut, since it might end up as a pretty long post hahaha. But hi hello!!! I'm always happy to know where my fans come from, it's always a surprise for me to see people around the globe enjoy my silly little game ;v;

Questions about the game:

1. Will it be possible to choose the MC gender? Is it possible to choose the gender of the cat in the same way?

Being nonbinary, I just choose not to mention pronouns when writing for the game, so anyone can fit in their shoes. Unless it comes to a point where I have to use it, I'll probably code in a pronoun tool but for now it doesn't seem necessary! As for the cat, that's a good suggestion. Perhaps I'll try coding it in for the next update so the cat can be male or female, according to player preference!

2. Will we be able to choose some kind of "style" for the MC, according to the type of clothing, at the beginning of the game?

Probably not, as I'm not really good at setting that up in Ren'Py. I did make an MC design though! But what they look like is entirely up to you. I've drawn a POV shot of them wearing jeans and sneakers but that's about it. They can look however you like!

Questions about Mychael:

1. Does he see the world like an ordinary person?

He does! Trigger warning for unsettling iris images if you wanna look this up, but his bottom pair is kinda what people with polycoria has. Except it's normal for him, and not really a condition. His vision is normal, he just has lotsa peepers.

2. If the MC suddenly goes out alone and doesn't come back by midnight, will Mychael worry about the MC and will he go looking for the MC?

Yes? He didn't save you just to have you running off into danger again. He'd absolutely track you down and find you.

3. How does Mychael feel about piercings and tattoos? Does he know about it? If so, would he like a piercing/tattoo?

He knows about it, but not enough to really understand how it works! He finds it fascinating humans decorate their bodies with shiny beads and jewels, and turn their skin into tapestries for art. He'd probably assume you can take them off any time and that the tattoos are drawn onto the skin.

I don't imagine he'd want a piercing, but he'd probably try a tattoo! (Until he realizes it's ink going under the skin, in which case he might change his mind haha)

4. I wonder where Mychael gets things for the house. Where did he get them???

He has his ways ::-)

5. How would he react if he saw me?

He wouldn't be reacting much to how you look. You're not the first human he's seen! He's been around plenty of them, but you'd be one of the few he's interacted with the longest. And that's what makes you stand out more than anything else.

Phew that was a big ask!! But thank you for the interest :-D!! Hope everything's good in Latvia!

#mushroom oasis vn #mychael ask #cheea chatter #bts

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rabbiting · 9 months

Note

the way you use shapes in your art is absolutely phenomenal... is there any particular way you approach shape design? or do you just go off of intuition?

Thank you lovely anon for your kind words! I do everything on a wing and a prayer but I’ll share my process with you!

Initially I just try to get everything down in blobs. I don’t use references so this is all a terrible, freehand mess, but at this point I am prioritising colours and placement and not thinking too hard about the final design. Here are my initial sketches for this stage:

Now it is time to think about the shapes. To avoid tears I use a grid - here I’m using an isometric one. You can think of geometric motifs in terms of shapes being pieced together, in much the same way a quilter would. (If you have procreate there are two lovely grid overlays that give you nice straight lines if you turn on drawing assist.)

Here is what things look like with the overlay and after fixing into place; you can see I did this in two parts in the drawing process after randomly changing my mind about the colours.

Now I’ve got everything neatly in place I can turn off the grid to add detail or move things about - all I’ve done here is curved some of the straight edges and added some gradient detail. Here is the overall process all together:

I hope this helps but please do let me know if you need further clarification! Also bear in mind that pre-2017 I did all this in photoshop on an intuos 3 without grids by coping and pasting the shape tool (I categorically do not recommend this method.) If anyone else has any questions, I’ll try my best to help whoever who needs it. 💖

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naomi-nana · 6 months

Text

: promise me?

doctor!albedo x fem!reader

cw: ooc, two dense people in love, mention of death, angst, grammar mistake.

a/n: ik this ain't realistic but cmon its fictional so hehehehhe

what are the most wonderful things in this world? if you were to ask any other people in this world that question, i'm certain that their answers would be different. i'm pretty sure that their answer would all be fascinating, but not to a certain doctor. each time he is asked that question, the answer remains the same. "that patient for me is the most wonderful thing that has happened to me." he looked at his colleague with a straight expression on his face. "what's so interesting about her anyways?"

he stayed silent. no one knows. even he doesn't know. why does he care that much about her anyways? she is just a patient. oh, but the way she smiles when he entered the room. the way she greets him with such gentle tone that it would make anyone fall for her. "good morning, my doctor."

"i've told you to stop calling me that." he narrowed his eyes. "just call me by my name." she laughed at him. he only stared at her face in awe, the way she laughs and smiled sincerely at him. her laugh makes him feel all warm inside. he doesn't know why, maybe it's an incurable disease. he's been drinking all sorts of medicine to stop that feeling but it still came, weirdly enough, it only happens when he is with her alone. "well, apologize for my rudeness, sir albedo." he looks at her with a straight face, as if he hasn't been repeating the way she called him.

his name sounds nice when it's said by her.

"what a pity," she mumbles, "it's only a week left before i'm gone from this world." ah. he forgot about that. having spent most of his time trying to cure her disease makes him forgot about the time left. "may i ask something to you?" his ears perk at her question. "ask away."

"will you please stay with me until my death?"

----

he doesn't know why, but he agreed. it's been 2 days after that promise with her. he is now standing besides her bed, listening to her talk about random stuff. "you know, i'd really like it if you made me one of these.." she spoke, as she plays with the little stuffed animal that he made by hand. "i love the designs." she smiles, slightly pressing the eyes of the stuffed animal. "you're complimenting me too much. it's only a stuffed animal."

"but you made it by hand."

"well, yes. but it's not that much of a deal for me."

she sat up and grabbed his hands with hopeful looks in her eyes, "make it for me, pleasee??" he squints his eyes. he wants to decline but, looking at her hopeful eyes makes him feel all..ah. maybe it's worth a try. "..sure. but, promise me something." she smiled in excitement. "what is it?!"

"don't die before i finish it."

---

it's been 3 days since that promise. he is walking over to her room just like usual. he brought little gifts for her today though. "eh, really? this is for me??" she looks at him in awe. the fact that he is willing to go out of his way just to give her a necklace is really heartwarming. "yes. do you not like it?" he ask hesitantly, the nervous feeling started to bubble up. he is scared, for some reason. he is scared to see her feel disgusted by the random gift he gave. "i love it! you are the best, albedo!" ah, there it is. the warm feeling again. maybe it really is an incurable disease at this point.

he took the necklace gently from her and put it around her neck. "you look pretty.." he mumbled. ah, he accidentally let out one of his thoughts. before he could cover his mouth in embarrasment, she chuckles lightly. "thank you." his eyes slightly widened at the sight before him. the sun shines through the window and illuminates her, she looks ethereal. the gold necklace with a turquoise pendant hang nicely around her neck.

oh, how pretty.

---

it's been 4 days since that promise. the stuffed animal she requested is not done yet. he decided to bring it with him to her room today. "you seem to look much more ill than the last few days." he spoke, catching her attention. "ah, maybe i am. who knows," she touched the pendant gently and smiled, "this pendant may be the only thing to keep me alive." she continues. he stopped sewing midway and pursed his lip.

"that's nonsense." he replied, making her chuckle. "oh, you and your hopelessly dense heart." she smiled. he is not dense, he thinks to himself. he just thinks that a pendant can't keep someone alive.

"maybe you'll understand someday, albedo."

---

it's been 5 days since that promise. her state seems to have worsened throughout the days. it made him worry. "you should eat your pills more." he gave her an advice, but she only smiled as she gaze towards the sunset, "it's only a matter of time before i'm gone."

"what's the point in trying to be healthy again? i've lost hope in my life."

"that's not true." she broke her gaze on the sunset and stared at him instead. "how so?" she asked, he pursed his lips. "you still want to live."

"if you hate life so much, why still go through the trouble of eating everyday?"

---

it's been 6 days since that promise. the stuffed animal is almost ready, it just needs a little more sewing. "that's so cute!" she stared at the stuffed animal in awe. "you are so incredibly talented! why choose to become a doctor like this?" he narrowed his eyes at that question.

"that's an incredibly rude question, but i'll answer." she laughs awkwardly at his reply. "i just like alchemy and it's stuff." she blinks her eyes at him in doubt, "that's a really bland reason." he grumbled at her reply. "but you are a really bland person too, so it's okay!"

"how is that supposed to make me feel better?"

---

it's been 7 days since that promise. he finished the stuffed animal already, and his work is all done by afternoon. his routine is always this way, do work till afternoon, and look after his dear patient. he walks over to her room with the stuffed animal in hand. as he opens the door, the bed is empty. the windows are opened, and the wind blew the curtains gently.

ah, he remembers now. she passed away at midnight. he remembers vividly what happen back then. the way she calls for his name and finally let out her last breathe made him feel all empty inside.

there is no one in this room now. all he can see is a room full of memories.

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

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cohborikardok · 6 months

Text

Chiss Fan Survey 2023

Here's the results of the Chiss fan survey for this year! We had a huge turnout, with 464 responses! Here's a link to the slide deck if that's more accessible for you.

First some demographics: most people surveyed came from Twitter but we also had a pretty good turnout from Tumblr this year!

The majority of people surveyed still came from the United States, but we also had some new countries make it on the map this year.

Most people fell within the 18-34 age range.

As always, I love how Thrawn attracts the autistic audience. Interestingly, the same percentage of people said they’re neurodivergent this year as did last year, but the proportion of them that are autistic grew by about 7%.

Again just a disclaimer that these results are not necessarily representative of the overall Thrawn fan community as I reach a very specific demographic, but over half of the people surveyed are women and almost a third are non-binary. 20% identify as transgender.

About a third of people surveyed are bisexual or pansexual.

Another thing I love is how many people in the community fall under the asexual and aromantic umbrellas. Asexuality is the second most common sexuality reported on this survey.

There’s about 8% fewer single people and 4% more married people than last year so congratulations!

A new question this year is how people's partners feel about Star Wars. For most, it seems they’re the bigger Star Wars fan between them and their partner(s)

Moving on to the actual Thrawn questions, the majority of people surveyed got into Thrawn around 2020.

The spikes on the read/watch order graph show the most popular reading/watch order, so Rebels> Thrawn> Alliances> Treason> Chaos Rising> Greater Good> Lesser Evil> Ahsoka.

Most people had seen Star Wars Rebels and read at least Thrawn (2017).

Over half of people surveyed have read Heir to the Empire, and overall more people report reading Legends than in last year’s survey.

To get the book ranking, I gave each book an average rank based on people's votes and ordered them that way. Thrawn 2017 was by far the most popular of the books.

The most popular choice for a new book book was an "Eli Vanto in the Ascendancy" book.

Despite Ahsoka filling in what happened after Rebels, the percentage of people who are interested in a Thrawn and Ezra Post-Rebels story has not decreased and has in fact increased slightly.

The love for Thranto is very apparent in the ship portion of the survey.

There’s also a good percentage of people who don’t ship Thrawn with anyone, and then OC or selfships are also somewhat popular.

I included a reminder as to what the Thrawn Designs options were. Ascendancy Thrawn was far and away the most popular design for Thrawn. People also liked the 2018 comic version. Least popular was the Heir to the Empire comic design.

Despite what people may have expected, overall Chiss fans were happy with Live Action Thrawn.

In particular, they liked the casting and the dialogue. The most disliked bits were Thrawn’s storyline and inconsistencies with the books.

I also need it to be noted that more than one person wrote in that they liked “how cunty" live action Thrawn was.

Thrawn fans get involved in several different ways

Almost a third have made Thrawn art and 40% wrote something.

Several people went to the Chiss fan meetup this year.

60% of people bought something Thrawn related.

Books was the top item purchased, with over half of people who bought something buying at least one book and most buying several books.

Comics were also popular with the reprinting of the 2018 comic.

Please let me know if you have any questions or would like me to cross-analyze anything!

#twitter saw it first #thrawn fans survey #survey #thrawn #chiss #chiss fan survey #ahsoka #mitth'raw'nuruodo

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wandafiction · 3 months

Text

How Much?! - Just Us Chapter 3

Warnings: Suggestive themes

Word Count: 1644

Series List | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

================================

The elevator ride was calm compared to the car ride, Wanda was lent against me with one arm wrapped around mine and the other holding my bicep of the same arm. Her head was leaning against my arm just below my shoulder, now I could take in how tall I was compared to her, a relaxed smile on her face as we both looked at one another through the reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

I also don't feel like slamming her up against the wall and making her cum once again. I think she feels the same, as she seems more relaxed than when we were in the club and the car. Maybe I should offer her a drink and chat before anything else. No, I will offer her a drink, and we will do this at her pace. She has never been with a woman before...well now she has...but I want to make sure she is comfortable this whole night. So her pace.

"Penthouse suite?" Wanda's gaze moved from looking at me to the sign in the elevator letting us know we had arrived.

"Uh, yeah this is my floor. Well two floors." I shuffled on my feet a little, I always hated showing off my wealth too much. Nothing screams rich fucker like a 2 story penthouse at the top of an already expensive apartment building practically made for the richer people of New York.

"Do you mind me asking what job you have to be able to have a two floor penthouse?" Wanda's voice wavered a bit trying to gauge what I would do.

The elevator bell dinged, the doors opening straight into the entrance hall. And before you think 'oh surely anyone can access the penthouse then'. No. The building has an interface system where you have to have a key card, or if you're like me and sometimes forget your key card, a password as well to be able to access past a certain floor. However, even then the cards and passwords are linked to a particular floor number so you can't access anything but yours. The only way someone could possibly get into my pent house without any of that is with a guest password, and each one of those is different so you know who accessed your place and when.

Pretty neat if you ask me. My friend Tony Stark came up with the idea when building this place, making sure I specifically got the top floor and allowed me to design my penthouse myself. He is a good friend.

Anyway, back to Wanda's question.

"No, it's fine. I am a business woman, CEO of a tech company that works in the medical field and also a partner in my friend's tech business."

"Wow, so earning the big bucks." I stifle a laugh.

"Yes, something like that. Drink?" I pull her to the kitchen area where I have a large wine fridge and then another fridge with beers and other alcoholic beverages in it.

"Red wine please." Wanda makes herself home on one of the stools at the kitchen's island.

"Any preferences?" I turn with the best two bottles of wine I have holding them up to her. "Château Ausone 2003 or Château Lafite 2010?"

"I don't know. I've never had either before. Whatever you think is best for tonight." She looks like she wants to ask another question as I open the Ausone.

"You can ask me Wanda." I turn around with a wine glass in hand passing it off to her, as she looks slightly confused about how I knew.

"How much does a bottle of Ausone cost? Because you opened it like it wasn't that much. I mean it sounds posh and expensive. Sorry it doesn't matter." She takes a sip of her drink to stop her rambling.

"It's okay Wanda I promise. You're allowed to ask these questions, you're just curious I get that."

"Okay well how much does it cost?" She asks with a cheeky grin on her face.

"That one is the St Emilion Grand Cru. So roughly $1200 a bottle." I hear Wanda choke slightly at my answer, but she quickly covers her mouth recovering from her momentary choke.

"Sorry, but that's more than my monthly rent. Wow. It definitely tastes like a $1200 bottle of liquid courage." She then takes another sip, now obviously savouring the drink.

"Well you can't blame me for that one. It was a gift, it's been sitting there a while. So why not treat you to it." I raise my glass to my mouth watching her reaction.

"Oh so this is your saving for a rainy day wine?" She jokes.

"Exactly. I had no one to share it with till now, so I thought fuck it, otherwise it will never get drunk otherwise." She hums in response. "Any other questions for me princess?"

"Why the name princess? Also is it rude if I ask how much you earn a year? I mean I'm just curious, you know, expensive wine in a two story penthouse. You have to be bringing home the bacon right?" Wanda places her empty glass on the counter, and I move to top it up again as I think of an answer.

"I don't really know. It was the first thing to pop into my head when trying to fluster you, which worked by the way." She blushes slightly as I continue. "I mean I don't call anyone princess, never have. It just seemed fitting. And as for how much I earn, are you sure you really want to know?"

"Hmm, I mean I don't have a name for you. You're just y/n. Why? Is it a lot?" Wanda tilts her head in question.

"Y/n is just fine. I don't need to go by anything else. Define a lot. What is a lot of money for you Wanda?"

"Well I have a 2 bedroom apartment that costs me around $1000 a month. I'm not poor in that sense of the word, I always have spare money and savings and my salary is decent. But a lot would be...I don't know...let's set the benchmark at $500'000." I finished off my glass of wine, liking my lips cleaning them of wine not missing Wanda's eyes darting down to watch the movement.

"Then I earn waaaay more than alot. Like I asked before, are you really sure you want to know?" This time I tilt my head in question.

"Can I guess? And then you say higher or lower?" She shuffles on the stool excitedly at the prospect of the small guessing game.

"Of course go ahead."

"Uhmm a lot more than $500'000 so 1.2 mil?" I point my finger upwards to indicate it's higher. "2 million?" Again I point upwards. "5 million?"

"Much higher."

"12 million?"

"Multiply that by five." It takes no longer than a second to do the Maths.

"60 million! A year? Holy shit!"

"I make anywhere between 60 to 85 million. However, I put a lot of it back into the company and help start up small businesses and of course give to charity."

"So what do you indulge in? Because every millionaire has something they spend lots of money on. So spend money on houses, cars or even islands? So what is y/ns favourite thing to spend money on?"

"I am a car person myself, but I tend to buy rust buckets and fix them up myself. Of course I have luxury cars and that but they are more for formal events just for publicity and all that, my PR team seems to think it helps the company and so on and so forth. But in all honesty I like treating my friends most if all. What would you spend the money on if you had that sort of income?"

"I would love to say the same as you. You know, help others in need, give to smaller businesses and friends and family. However, if I jump from my salary to your salary I am spoiling myself first. Car, house, the whole nine yards." We both laugh at her honesty. "Now though I think I'm done with the small talk." Her voice is low, her pupils dilate as she speaks.

"Yeah and what have you got in mind princess?" I lean closer to her whispering in her ear, a shiver going down her spine.

"I think we should take this to the bedroom." Wanda sighs when I start nibbling at her ear.

"Oh yeah? And what do you want to do once we are there princess?" I move my hands to her thighs slowly moving them up and down.

"You tell me?"

"Well princess. I am going to make this the best night of your life. You're going to be screaming my name so loud you forget your own, your legs squeezing around my head as I bring you so much pleasure you won't be able to feel them in the morning. I'm going to find every little spot that sets you off and leave a beautiful purple bruise on them to remind you of how I made you feel." A small fuck leave her mouth, her legs closing slightly to gain some form of friction as I speak. "So princess, are you ready for me to take full control of you tonight?"

"Fuck. Yes. Please. Just fuck me already."

"I have your complete consent?" Just got to double check to make sure it is truly what she wants.

"Yes, now please fuck me y/n."

"What's the safe word?"

"Red."

"Good girl." A low groan leaves her lips as I pull her off the stool, her legs wrap around my waist as I start to carry her out of the kitchen.

Tonight is going to be fun.

================================

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #just us series

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 month

Note

The Vees are Overlords but also a business, therefore they hold meeting and work with clients right and workers? Well what if a Business client or worker unknowingly said something about Retro!Reader in a meeting?

If its before Vox it come be commenting on Retro's cooking, as I see Retro would always ensure Vox had home made snacks for while hes working. Something like "That House Wife of yours is decent in the Kitchen, I see why you keep them there"

If its before Valentino I assume its after Retro brings him something between shoots, some fool would comment on Retro's looks or ask why Retro isn't one of Val's 'Stars' kinda a "Bod like that should be in those sheets"

Velvette would most likely be dealing with jealous models who don't know fully who Retro is but Retro gets to walk in, get the nice personal design treatment from Velvette and not have to talk the cat walk? Bitch fight would incoming.

Hope you don't mind my ramblings and if this sparks something Hooray!

He would destroy the person in question if it’s an insult^

Vox is always boasting about Retros cooking, how skilled and talented they are. He literally never shuts up about it. Now, the demon who said ‘I can see why you keep them there’ might have meant it as a sort of joke or some shit, but Vox would not be pleased. He does not take kindly to people who insult or degrade their partners (ironic, considering Valentino), so someone who’s making that sort of implication about his wife? Death.

He’d sort of chuckle and go ‘excuse me?’, daring the demon to repeat themselves. It’s over for them either way. If the demon backtracks, Vox will very pointedly dedicate the rest of the meeting to bragging about all of Retros other skills, too. He’d try to start by mentioning it off hand, but he’d get so invested in proving a point to the low life that insulted his wife that he’d get carried away. He’d go on and on about how creative and thoughtful Retro is, how nice they are to everyone, including those who work at the company. He would not-so-politely remind everyone that Retro knits sweaters for people at the company picnics, how they always cook at least half the food at the company get together and parties, stuff like that. It’s a stupid move to insult Vox’s wife, but insulting the person who everyone loves just because of how nice and kind they are? That’s ten times dumber.

Valentino would shoot a bitch on sight if they made a comment about Retro in bed. Yes it’s hell, insults and comments like that are to be expected, but he has standards when it comes to Retro. Val is so unbelievably protective of them when they come by the studio, it’s startling. He knows what Vox would do if anything happened, and Val doesn’t want to see Retro in any sort of compromising situation to begin with. He’d do his best to keep everyone in line.

He’d shoot glares and insults at anyone who looks at them the wrong way, anyone who looks at them for too long. Keep in mind, Val is in a wonderful mood whenever Retro visits him at work. They help him with scripting, and he’s always admiring them and gushing over them. He draws little hearts in the margins of his papers and sometimes lets them on set. He’s always nervous about it, but it works out nicely. They usually only help adjust someone’s clothes (with how few they’re wearing, it’s very important), the perspective of cameras, sometimes the hair or makeup (only a little). They know exactly what Val is looking for, and how to get the scene how he wants it. They’re calm and polite and everyone is just so relieved about it. Retro even does their best to make sure the actors are comfortable, the clothes aren’t too tight, the clasps work correctly, things like that. So yeah, if someone makes a comment about them, they’d be lucky to only receive extra hours of work as a punishment.

Velvette? Okay, if Retro was the type to confront people, Vel would record the entire thing. Unfortunately, Retro usually pretends they don’t hear a thing. They’d rather ignore it and keep up the nice and polite house wife routine. They’re probably busy admiring their lovers, anyway. So, instead, Velvette would shoot a model a glare and walk right up to them, demanding they tell her what makes them think they can say such a thing.

Retro gets treated special because Velvette respects them, thinks they’re awesome and adorable and can’t do anything wrong. Mostly. So, the fact that one of her models (people she sees as frequent fuck ups) would try to put themselves on Retros level? The fact that someone would even think they’re anywhere near as good as them, anywhere near as deserving of Velvettes attention and affection as Retro? A ridiculous notion. The model is lucky not to be torn apart by Val. Velvette would go off on the model, listing every single mistake they’ve made in the past hour alone.

The workers at Vee Tower learn not to fuck around when it comes to Retro pretty quick.

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #thanks anon!

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jewishcissiekj · 5 months

Text

hi let's talk about her

Honestly I have so much to say about her. so much. so here's some of it

-Asajj (NOT VENTRESS THAT'S HER LAST NAME ISTG PEOPLE JUST HATE USING HER ACTUAL NAME AND IDK WHY I GUESS IT'S A COOL NAME BUT ASAJJ IS ALSO A COOL NAME AND)

-Asajj was last seen in canon in the Dark Disciple novel. Where she died. I would never recommend that book to anyone so if you haven't read it yet please don't. In short, after becoming a Bounty Hunter in The Clone Wars she grew out her hair, got a cool yellow Lightsaber and for some reason teamed up with Quinlan Vos to try and kill Dooku. They didn't manage to do it. And Asajj died (was fridged) trying to protect Quinlan. The Bad Batch will not contradict that, as was said by the creators. So this is just a summary for anyone who hasn't read it because I wholeheartedly believe that book is bad

-I have not watched a single Bad Batch episode in my life. As a disclaimer. I started the first one, watched their TCW arc and saw memes screenshots clips and spoilers but I do not know this show. I will watch it now that Asajj's there tho

-She does not have the same outfit anymore! It's a change, and we haven't gotten a clear look at her new design so idk how to judge it yet. Might be to look less recognizable, but it has a very different vibe than any of her prior outfits. There's a leftover shoulder pad and probably some other stuff from her last design but I feel like they kinda clash with the new one and tbb's design language in general. The Bounty Hunter look has a very TCWish feel to it and this one is a sharp turn in another, much more casual direction. I'm not inherently against it but I guess we'll see how it looks in action soon

-In my opinion the hair looks like shit. I don't think she should have hair ever. I don't understand why she can't be bald. Why is she bald when she's evil and has hair when she's a padawan (good) and when she is "redeemed"? guess we'll never know. It's a leftover from the cancelled Dark Disciple TCW arc design (and the Dark Disciple cover and promotional material ofc) and it's bad if you ask me but to each their own and if you like it good for you

-Her Lightsaber!!!!! Same case as the hair in terms of irl development but I like it so much better. The yellow just fits her character and it's pretty. Would love for her to find another one and get back to dual-wielding (I know that won't happen)

-The bag and pouches make me so happy as a design element do you think she carries a (tooka) cat in there

-Now, visually she looks great and the animation style is smoother and nicer than TCW (as is the quality), but what about the direction the character's going in? I didn't like her being dead before, but I felt like it was somewhat better than her being shoved into being a cameo character in new content. If you can't touch her after a certain point, you also can't mess her up. But I do wonder where they're going with her. A few questions:

-Asajj in canon is a directionless character. Also, a partially nonsensical and inconsistent character in her choices and storylines. I've talked about it a lot but in short she just feels messy. What's her purpose in life? Her motive? Her origin story doesn't really make sense, even. She's a Bounty Hunter, sure, but why? If all she wants is revenge on Dooku and maybe money (which was pretty much the case in Dark Disciple), what's she doing after the Empire? And more importantly, why?

-Obviously, the question I haven't asked yet because I don't like it: How the fuck is she alive? Nightsisters have a weird relationship with death but seriously, how?

-She's a Force User after the Rise of the Empire now, so what does he do about that? Is she founding The Path? Fucking around and finding out? Making a not-Jedi-not-Sith order with other force users she finds? Is the Empire after her? Do they know she's live?

-What about her girlfriend? Is Latts Razzi safe? Is she alright?

-Why is she in The Bad Batch show? Are we making her into a cameo character or is there a purpose? Why'd they bring her back? For fun? What is she doing after the show? Floating in dead space? Cameo-ing? Will we have a book?

-OK enough for tonight but if we see Quinlan Vos in the show I'll become violent (/neg). We probably will (he might just get mentioned idk).

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greenorangevioletgrass · 2 years

Text

it's classified | b.r.b. (2/2)

<<<read part 1 here>>>

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: what was supposed to be a simple one-night stand during the training for your upcoming movie turns into an epic strangers-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-lovers adventure… 10,000 feet in the air.

word count: 4.9k

warnings: language, more behind-the-scenes nerdiness, mention of menstrual cramps, La La Land reference lol, mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff, smut [dirty talk, oral (f), fingering, overstimulation, protected sex], rooster is secretly a softboi, reader is so stubborn skjdhfksjdhf

notes: here we are, part 2! they're my new precious baby can't you tell? please join me in this dumpster fire. reblog, send me asks, talk to me bc a bitch is horny, okay???? happy reading!

✨ i do not have a taglist. follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

***

iv. Jimi Hendrix — Purple Haze / John Mayer — Do You Know Me

The first couple of weeks are rough. The flight training is hell —even when the G-Force doesn’t feel as bad and you start to enjoy the view of the mountains and the sea and everything else in between, you’re still locked in the box with Rooster. Day in, day out.

The only reprieve in this pre-production is the filmmaking workshop. Not only will you be flying in the actual jet, but you will also have to handle all the technical aspects while you’re in the air. Sound and makeup and props and cinematography… everything that has to do with filmmaking —and nothing with Rooster. At least on those days, you get a break from his insufferable mug.

“Morning.” The man in question walks into the classroom in his khakis, fitted to his form, taking the empty seat right in front of you.

“Um, what are you doing here?” You lean forward over your desk, whispering quietly. Careful not to raise any attention.

He turns around, resting his elbow on your desk, and answers quite matter-of-factly, “They asked us to come in. Something about making sure everyone’s on the same page to get the lighting and the framing and the… everything right.”

Like clockwork, the door opens again, and this time Lieutenants Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia and Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin stroll in, deep in conversation with the movie’s leading man John Cho. They take the front row seats, greeting the class with a brief nod.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “That’s… great. Welcome to filmmaking.”

“Happy to be here.” To everyone, it sounds like ordinary passing niceties. But you know better. You hear the hint of sarcasm in his voice. The pettiness of making your day absolute dogshit with his presence.

The two of you exchange a tight, wry smile as Scott, the first AD, opens up the session. There’s no snarky remark, no quippy comebacks. Not when anyone else is around —or the comm lines are open. Neither of you would risk being less than professional in the workplace. No matter how much you detest each other. No matter if your effort to deter each other from this project only seems to only bring you closer together.

As the old saying goes, you make plans and Kevin laughs and assigns Rooster as your designated pilot.

Which is why you’re now strapped into the cockpit with four cameras in your face, a makeup pouch hidden in your flight suit, and a notebook scribbled with cheat sheets of instructions and technical notes. Hovering above the California mountains, 1,000 feet in the air.

“So what’s our plan here, Houdini?” Rooster says over the comms.

He damn well knows what the plan is. Whether he asks to test you or let you take the wheel as ‘in-flight director’, you have no idea. “I need the sun on my 2 o’clock. When I call ‘action’, we’re gonna head north and floor it while I say my line, and then we do a hammerhead.”

“Up or down?”

So he was testing you. “If we go down, we’ll crash,” you say it like it’s obvious —because it is. But you confirm anyway, “Hammerhead up, Rooster.”

He chuckles. “Copy that. Ready when you are.”

Today, of all days, you’re not gonna let Rooster rain on your parade. You stare at the panel before you, giddy as you press the mic button, “Sound speed…”you announce with a clap to mark the track. “Camera rolling…” you straighten in your seat a little. “Let’s go. First take of the shoot. Scene 49, shot 13, take 1. And…” You take a deep breath, and hear Rooster doing the same. Inhale… exhale…

“Action!”

You’ve played characters which transformed your appearance and mannerisms in small, intense dramas set in Butt Fuck Midwest. You’ve acted opposite tennis balls and green screens in those movies with more money than sense. You’ve been through the wringer. But never in your life would you have imagined playing a pilot on the back of an actual, accelerating F-18 over real terrain.

And everything else falls away. There’s just you and the sky and the story.

No more airsickness. No more nerves. No more games with Rooster.

Even he seems to understand that. Since that day, he’s gotten off of your back a little bit when you’re in the air. Things aren’t in great terms, by any means, but at least there’s no backhanded remarks. None of the usual unease. The two of you just stayed in your own lanes.

“We got you, Trickshot. I got the bandit on my sight. Locking target…” your voice is calm, even at top speed. “Oh, shit, shit, shit!” The aircraft does an aileron roll, maneuvering a full 360-degree. You let the cameras roll for a moment, taking off your mask as you breathe a sigh of relief as the jet goes upright again.

“Nice,” you hear Rooster say under his breath as soon as you call ‘cut.’

“What?”

“Nothing.” There’s a slight pause, and you can imagine the side-eye he always does. “Reset?”

“Yeah. Let’s… do it again.”

The butterflies in your stomach are pleasant, and you’re sure it’s the adrenaline from pulling sustained G’s on low terrain. Not so much from things… easing up between you and Rooster.

Never from Rooster.

But things do ease up. You’re not quite friends, and at this point you’re not expecting to be, but things dissipate into a more… civil acquaintance. A working professional relationship. The kind where you give each other opinions about the work.

“I like the previous one better,” he casually comments during a quiet lull one day.

You’re in the middle of adjusting your helmet for continuity, and you stop dead in your tracks. “You were paying attention?”

“‘Course. I had to.”

You’re not sure which one is more surprising; that he’s listening in on all the takes you’ve done, or that he’s right. Come to think of it, it’s probably the first time you’ve actually agreed on something. And it’s… not too shabby.

Not too shabby at all.

But of course, not every day is a good day. Some days, like today, you’re filming an intense dogfighting scene while having the most excruciating period cramps. You’ve taken some ibuprofen earlier, but either it has worn off or the cramps multiply with the G-Force, but it doesn’t seem to be working —if any, you seem to be in even more pain.

“So, from the top?”

If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve pointed out how he’s using performance lingo now. “Yeah, yeah. Give me a sec.” A deep breath as you brace yourself. And another. “Alright, let me just set it up real quick —” a squeezing pain shoots up your spine and you let out a strangled grunt.

“All good back there?”

“Mm-hm. Just… just cramps is all.”

“Stretch your legs. Try wiggling your toes.”

You chuckle ruefully. “It’s not that kind of cramps.”

“What —oh. Oh. Shit. Um… Do we —do we need medic? Do we need to land?”

“What, and leave your boy Hangman hanging?” you chuckle wryly, throwing a two-finger salute at the pilot in the jet hovering next to yours. Behind you is Kevin in the Cinejet, ready to shoot the dogfight sequence from a bird’s eye view. There’s no way in hell you’re tapping out now. “Nah, it’s cool. Let’s do it again.”

“Right…” the hesitation is palpable in his response, but he goes along anyway. “But you head over to the infirmary when we’re done, okay?”

You almost forget how caring he can be, even amidst the chaos and the simmering animosity. He doesn’t pull back on the aerobatics, although he’s a lot steadier in between takes—even more so than usual. He follows up on that promise as soon as you hop out, and tightly offers to help you. You wave him off, saying it’s fine I’m fine, gritting your teeth as the muscles inside you contract painfully. He notices, undoubtedly, but he gives you space and lets you walk yourself to the med bay. It’s… sweet.

What you don’t expect is seeing him in the basecamp hangar just an hour later. Sitting in a quiet corner, out of the crew’s way —a bottle of water in one hand and his phone in the other. Hair mussed up from the helmet, a furrow between his eyebrows as he focuses on his screen.

You’re on the way to the video village, but you can’t help making a beeline towards him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to fly John out.”

“I let Fanboy take the wheel,” he looks up at you and immediately scoots over, and you try not to think about the row of empty seats around him. It’s only polite to take the seat he’s inadvertently offering you. “It’s not everyday he gets to fly Hikaru Sulu himself.”

“Oh, that’s right. He’s a Star Trek fan.” You fondly recall the unmistakable font on the pilot’s helmet.

He nods. “You, uh, you good?”

“Better now.” You lean back against the chair, and tilt your head to the side like you’re letting him in on a secret. “I don’t know if you’ve ever pulled 7 G’s while you’re bleeding from your core and your insides are tearing itself apart, but that’s… an experience.”

You swear you hear him smile a little. “I don’t think I have. But you held up really well.”

“Thank you,” as soon as it comes out of your mouth, you realize it’s not just for his compliment. Or for caring.

For everything.

“Nah, it’s cool.” He seems to get it, if the pensive looks on his face was any indication.

“I know things weren’t always easy between us. We got off on the wrong foot —”

“Oh, I think we got off on the right foot,” he corrects you, somewhat amused, “until you stepped on it, steel-toed boots and all, broke the bones.”

You see the mischievous glint in his hazel eyes—the one that goes along with his corny one-liners— and you laugh. “Come on, will you let me have my moment here? Shit.”

He laughs with you, quiet but warm. It’s probably the first time you shared anything more than a gruff hmph in months, and it feels… nice.

“Okay, okay. You were saying?”

You turn to look at him —really look— and suddenly you’re overcome with the need to hold his hand. You don’t, of course, but you settle for the next best thing. “It’s just… I’m glad that we work well together. Despite everything.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, it’s…” he brushes it off. “I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before either, and it wouldn’t have been the same without you.” His eyes find yours, and you question, is he still talking about flying? “You’re really good up there —I mean, I wouldn’t know shit about acting or directing, but you’re… tough. And efficient.”

It’s a funny compliment, but you take it. It puts you at ease, knowing that neither of you has a good enough grasp of the situation to act cool. “Thanks, Roo-Roo.”

He scrunches his nose, but his smile is palpable. “Don’t call me that.”

“Okay,” you chuckle.

“I’m serious, Houdini. It’s bad for my rep.”

“Sure it is.”

There’s no edge to his warning, just as there’s no stiffness in your answer. It’s a light, familiar banter that the two of you so easily fall back into. For a second, you wonder how you’ve gone this long without it. It’s one of the best things about him. This light, affable air around him, whether you’re tumbling in his sheets or flying in his jet.

(Never the former. Not anymore.)

A jet taxis back into the tarmac, fresh from a flight, and the two of you watch John and Fanboy hop out of the plane, talking animatedly as they walk back into the hangar. It warms your heart to see that, knowing full well the buzz, the adrenaline of a flight well done yourself.

“You were right, by the way.” you nudge Rooster’s knee with yours.

“Hm?” He makes no effort to move his leg, and for a nice, quiet moment, you’re just sitting knee-to-knee. Comfortable. As intimate as it can be.

And with the orange sky sprawling outside, you’re ready to admit it,

“It is so much more than clouds and oceans from a tiny window.”

***

v. Melt — Stupid in Love / Taylor Swift — Cornelia Street

Rooster is a friend.

He works well with you at rehearsals in the wooden aircraft mockup, clear as precise as he is on the field. In the air, he stays in his lane —although his dry, off-the-cuff remarks are always a nice addition to your flights.

And in between all of that, you learn new things about him everyday; where his callsign came from, why he thinks tea is just brown garbage water, how he likes musicals and old romcoms —a fact he’s embarrassed about, until you unabashedly admit that you like the same thing.

If that revelation turns into a movie night at your place, and said movie night becomes a regular thing, you try not to think about it too much. In fact, you try your damnedest not to think about it at all. Rooster is a friend, and friends hang out and watch movies together… right? The fluttery feeling in your stomach is completely baseless.

Completely without any valid reason.

“I still think his character is an insufferable fuckhead who takes jazz too seriously,” Rooster turns up his nose, looking at Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone on your TV screen, “But when they started floating and dancing and shit… ugh!”

“I still can’t believe you’re a sucker for this kind of movie,” you shake your head at him with an amused grin.

“Look. With everything that goes down everyday at work, I need something light, low-stake, and as far from my job as possible. And seeing people dance among the stars and all that… it’s like a massage for my brain,” he hums in satisfaction, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “What about you?”

“Hm? What about me?”

“You do movies, you’re watching a movie. Doesn’t this still feel like work to you?”

“Well, yes and no. There are times where I watch movies to study, but I also like doing it just for kicks, you know?” you answer thoughtfully. “Besides, I’ve gone through all the stages of grief with La La Land.”

“Why?”

You take your time to craft your next words delicately, without sounding like a pathetic humblebrag. “The, uh… director wrote it with me in mind.”

“What?!”

“Yeah…” you wince. “Damien approached me before he even had a script. We workshopped drafts after drafts after drafts… and then the studio decided I wasn’t a big enough name to sell the movie, so.” You shrug lightly. It’s not so much the memory that makes your heart twist, but rather the quiet look of guilt washing over him. It was his choice of movie, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have —you know.”

“Nah, it’s cool. The movie turned out great. And I turned out fine. I mean, look at me, I’m in Top Gun, for fuck’s sake.”

He puts his arm around your shoulders comfortingly, although you feel your pulse picking up from the contact. “And you’re killing it.”

“Thanks, Roo.” You allow yourself to lean on his shoulder. The smell of sunscreen and aftershave is faint this time, but it’s still the same embrace. Same warmth.

Same man.

The featherlight patterns he draws on your bare arm feels so loud in the silence. You can almost see the buzzing heat emanating from your skin. Time slows down, and opportunity presents itself the more you try to repress it. And at this point, you’re not sure you have any strength left to fight it.

Instead, you bury your face deeper into him, pressing kisses along the broad plane of his shoulder. Up his neck. Along his jaw. Chaste. Tender. You half-expect him to pounce on you —to take the reins on this drawn-out affair— but he… doesn’t. He just melts into you. Letting you close the distance to his lips.

It feels like a fever dream. Your body moves on its own accord —deepening the kiss, straddling his lap, touching him everywhere— but your mind… There’s so many thoughts, one conflicting with the other, that you don’t even know where to start.

“God, I want you so bad…” he mutters under his breath, mouthing your breasts over your clothes.

And honestly, why would you deal with the chaos in your head when you can enjoy this?

Roo hikes up your shirt, his rough callused hands gentle against your skin as he tugs it over your head. He unclasps your bra with one hand, mouth hot against your soft flesh and diamond-hard nipples. It’s easy —too fucking easy to fall into this… routine, if you could even call it that. You’ve only been here twice, but he touches you like he knows you.

“Can I taste you?“ Bradley quietly whispers, and you realize, this is the only thing he hasn’t done. “Please?” He tugs at your lower lip with his teeth, teasing. Pleading. “Been thinking about it for ages…”

Jesus. This man is gonna be the death of you.

His tongue slips into your mouth again, filthy and messy and you’d laugh at how much this screams ‘cheesy 80s romance’ if you hadn’t forgotten how words work. “Well?”

You look at him like it’s obvious—because it is.

“Need you to say it.” There’s a smirk in his sing-songy voice.

“Roo…” You blink heavily at him. “Eat my fucking pussy, please.”

His hands are on your waist and the next thing you know, you softly land on your back on the couch. He finds the waistband of your shorts and pulls everything down in one go, yanking them off and throwing it over his shoulder. His mustache tickles you as he kisses your ankle, along your calf, the inside of your knee. Teeth grazing as he makes his way up your inner thighs. Tongue licking up the dripping arousal on your cunt. And just like that, he renders you speechless.

Scratch that. He renders you entranced.

There’s something so sinful about the way he eats you out. You really shouldn’t be surprised —you know he’s a good fuck— and yet here you are. Clutching the back of his head, fingers tangled in his sun-kissed hair, hips chasing —dancing with his tongue as he drinks you in, from your opening to your clit.

The words are lost. There’s just hot breath and the strongest desire to taste him on your lips. And as his hand plays with your tits, you grab him by the wrist, taking it up to your mouth. Kissing his knuckles.

Sucking his finger.

“Holy fuck…” he moans into your pussy, and you swear you nearly come on the spot.

But he takes his hand away, gently, heavily, and brings it down to where he’s ruining you. All wet and ready, his fingers slip inside you, coaxing pleasure with every curling motion. From there, it’s a losing game for you. Then again, if making you come is victory, being struck with aftershocks of overstimulation is not a bad consolation prize. Not at all.

“Fuck. Please…”

“Please what? Please stop?” He kisses your cheek, slowing down the torture of his hand but not quite stopping. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the coy smirk in his voice. “Or keep going?”

Fuck him, you think to yourself. But instead, what comes out of your mouth is a plea. “Fuck me, Roo…”

Your eyes meet in a fleeting moment of wanting, and for a moment, the two of you move in a frenzy of lascivious kisses and hands groping and discarding whatever articles of clothing he has left. You unbutton his jeans, taking in his strained groan when you palm his hard-on through the offending material, when he suddenly stops.

“Wait. Shit, I don’t have a —”

“I do,” you quickly cut off. Then, pulling him up to his feet, you lead him down the hallway, “Bedroom.”

“Show me the way, honey.”

Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity, or maybe it’s what he called you, but something sobers you up. Not completely, but just enough that the nagging voice in the back of your head starts sounding off.

He seizes you from behind when you get to the foot of the bed, turning you around and kissing you. “Hi,” Roo smiles into your lips. It would’ve given you sweet butterflies, if your stomach wasn’t already twisting all of a sudden.

“Where is it?” he asks, and it takes you a second to remember what he was referring to.

“Um. Top drawer on the left.”

You’re sure he’s taking off his pants, finding the condom and putting it on in record time. But even then, it’s plenty of time for your mind to spiral. What does this mean? Are we gonna go through that awkward phase again? What are we?

He pulls you into his lap, and you hardly notice him settling on the side of the bed. His cock is lined up at your entrance and his lust-blown eyes gazing up at you. “Ready?”

Ready for what?

You barely sink down on his cock, when the words somehow just come out. The words that you didn’t even know were in the back of your mind. “We should wait.”

“What?” His voice is airy, like he’s not entirely here with you, but it’s immediate —as is the way he stops moving into you.

“We should wait before we decide if we really wanna do this.”

“As in fucking?” he looks at you, hazy. Confused.

“As in… whatever arrangement we’re getting ourselves into here!”

“Oh.” He pauses, thoughtful. And then, “Okay.”

“Okay?” you echo. It can’t be that easy, right?

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not just saying that because you wanna fuck?”

“No. I mean, I do, but…” he swallows heavily, “I like you. A lot. But… Jesus, can we not do it while I’m halfway inside you? It’s really hard to focus.”

A chuckle escapes you as he drops his forehead onto the crook of your neck. Your hand caresses the back of his neck gently. “Okay, okay, okay.”

But he lifts his head again —concern written all over his face as he asks you tentatively, “Unless you don’t wanna do this?”

“No, I do. I do.” And you mean it. His length stretches your inner walls and flexes inside you so invitingly. But the more you try to brush it off, the more persistent it stays in the forefront of your thought.

He lifts you just enough to pull himself out, and then he sits you back down again on his lap. Hands secure around your waist. “Talk to me, Houdini.”

There’s no perfect time to have this conversation. But that night, sitting naked in your bed, joined together but not quite, is probably as good as it gets. You take a heavy breath to brace yourself before you ask the ultimate question.

“What do you want out of this?”

He smiles simply, and it terrifies you that there’s hardly any hesitation in his answer. “I just want you. In every way I can get. I don’t think you ever knew that.”

And the fucked up thing is, you do. You would never admit it —not even to yourself— but part of you always knew. It’s just easier not to acknowledge it, considering everything at stake.

“This is too important to me. Relationships are complicated and messy and… what if we fuck up along the way? We’re just gonna get stuck in the cockpit in shitty silence for the rest of the shoot? We have six months left, Roo. I can’t—we can’t. We shouldn't.”

“Okay.” If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He simply remains thoughtful, careful. “But don’t you think sex will make things complicated and messy, too?”

“Possibly. But at this point, I don’t think I can stay away from you anymore,” you quietly admit. Then, as soon as it comes out of your mouth, it hits you. “Bleargh, that’s so corny.”

“It rolls off the tongue really nicely, though, right?”

“Yeah, it really does.”

You share a quiet chuckle together, a small moment of reprieve amidst the tension. It’s nice to know that, even stripped down in all senses of the word, things haven’t changed that much. You’re still… you.

“So how do you wanna do this?”

You straighten up, switching back to serious mode. “If we fuck, we fuck. But that’s it. This is not a relationship. We’ll decide if we still want that by the time we’re done filming, or if we wanna just…” you make a motion of parting ways. “But we wait until the end of the shoot, you hear me?”

“Okay.”

It’s too easy, and as honest as he seems, you almost don’t want to trust it. “Promise me. Not a moment sooner.” You cup his face, so he’ll look you in the eye and give it to you straight. “Roo-Roo.”

But then his eyes pierce through you, so sweet and tender, and you hope to God he’ll keep his words because you sure will. “You need to stop calling me that.” he gently, harmlessly chides you. “But yes,” he sighs, tucking your hair behind your ear and leaning into your lips,

“I promise.”

***

vi. Zoo Culture — Sundress

It’s been three years in the making, with COVID delaying the release multiple times, but you’re finally sitting alongside your co-stars in front of the live audience of Graham Norton, promoting the movie before the London premiere tonight.

“So Y/N, we’ve talked about pushing the boundaries of cinema and the insane stunts you did in this movie —but that’s not all. Your husband is actually the real pilot flying your plane in those aerial sequences.”

“Well, he wasn’t my husband yet at the time. But yeah, that’s how we met.” Your eyes flicker towards the audience, knowing the person in question is sitting in the back row.

Graham gapes at you. “That’s amazing.”

“Love was literally in the air,” your co-star Jordan Fisher comments, earning a laugh from the studio audience.

“So, how did it happen? Did you guys just cozy it up in the jet or what?”

“There’s no room to cozy up in the jet.” You chuckle. “I mean, we spent about a year, training and rehearsing the sequences on the ground and filming the actual thing, so we’d gotten to know each other a bit.” It’s a gross understatement, but a necessary paraphrase. “But on my last day, we were in the air and —I just finished my very last take— and right after I turned off my camera and mic, he said through the comms,” you put your hand over your mouth, mimicking the static over your best Rooster impression. “‘Hey Houdini. How ‘bout I take you out for dinner when we get back on the ground?’”

“And what did you say?”

“‘You smooth motherfucker!’”

The whole studio erupts into laughter and applause. That line is true, and Roo still rolls his eyes playfully whenever you reach this part of the story.

“That is a Hollywood romance plot right there,” Graham gushes excitedly.

“Listen, he’s seen me puke my guts out, pull myself together, and then go back to pretending to do his job for a living. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” you say matter-of-factly, “He was like, ‘Yep, she’s the one.’”

Graham turns to your co-stars Jordan and John Cho. “And did you guys know about this? Did you see sparks flying?”

“Oh, yeah. For sure,” Jordan replies without missing a beat. “I don’t know if they knew what was going on at that point, but we knew it was gonna be a thing,” he says, as John nods vigorously in agreement.

“That’s not entirely true,” Roo casually comments as he turns off the TV, striding into the ensuite hotel bathroom.

“What?” You look up and meet his gaze through the mirror, as you take off all your jewelries —the earrings, the bracelets, everything save for the

He strides closer to you, bow tie undone, sans blazer, helping you take off the many necklaces you’re wearing. God, he looks good. “What you said earlier.”

“What did I say earlier?”

“You never threw up in the cockpit, ever. And we weren’t technically just friends when I asked you out that day,” he points out. “I distinctly remember you calling it a ‘situationship’ back then.”

It makes you smile and turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck while he holds you by the waist. “Let the public have those funny anecdotes.” Toying with the soft strands on the back of his head, “The real version, our version, is… classified.”

He pulls a face. “Bleargh. Who taught you to be so corny?”

You scoff, swatting his chest for ruining the moment. “You did, asshole!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Rooster giggles, kissing your face all over. “No take-backs now. You’ve told the world that I’m your guy. You’re stuck with me forever.”

He may put on a smug grin as much as you roll your eyes in feigned annoyance, but you both know two things: that you are stuck with each other forever, and that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #rooster smut #rooster x reader #ava writes #top gun maverick

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bruhstation · 6 months

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Random question for Casa Tidmouth prequel What's the love story between ten cents and zip?

you’re in for a ride. welcome to another installment of senja v. b. heterocaine’s “doomed queer couple” series

before I start this incredibly long love story between two of bigg city harbour’s most struggling youth, it’s probably necessary to read about ten cents’ and zip’s relationships with their respective captains (here and here) because their influences are integral in shaping their relationship. you have? now let’s go!

ten cents and zip first met two weeks before the events of sunshine (episode 1). ten cents has been working for the star fleet for at least three months now. he was still brash, impatient, and immoveable by anyone besides captain star and hercules. it was also zip’s first day at work. besides being trained (more like impatiently taught) by zorran about how to work at the harbor and the culture of interacting with his z-stacks coworkers, zip didn’t know what to expect of the star fleet. captain zero did tell him that they’re folks not to be friendly with, so zip stuck to that. whoever captain zero hated, zip will also hate.

so there zip was, with his newly christened tugboat. as soon as ten cents and his coworkers spotted the z-stacks’ number 5, ten cents was not pleased. at all. four z-stacks was nasty enough, so another one? ten cents hadn’t even talked to him or know anything about his personality and he’s already developed a dislike towards the new z-stack.

zip’s mouth was out of control. he was saying some of the meanest (yet emptiest) things because he quickly picked up on zug’s habits as well as letting himself get dragged everywhere by him. ten cents also didn’t like zip. whenever zip shoots an accusation or makes fun of ten cents, ten cents shoots back a response in retaliation, resulting in zip always shrinking and retreating. in ten cents’ eyes, zip is just another cunning z-stacks in the making. his naivety and capability to ONLY parrot what was said to him were frustrating. so what if he’s just a spineless newbie? what became of zip wasn’t any of ten cents’ problem. to ten cents, zip was trouble. to zip, ten cents was an enemy.

still at the start of the story and things are already muddy. ten cents was incredibly stubborn and impatient, already assuming the worst and letting his personal dislike for the z-stacks cloud his judgement. zip, despite his inability to be a genuinely malicious person, has exhibited signs of him possibly following the cloudy path of captain zero. their dislike towards one another were further amplified by their respective captains’ influences.

then they met each other outside of work for the first time. it was a particularly slow day, so zip was told to buy groceries by captain zero (designated z-stacks errand boy). he then stumbled upon ten cents who was sitting on a bench near the bridge cafe and doing crosswords on the morning newspaper. ten cents was avoiding captain star’s presence for the day so he can have some time alone. zip looked at him, curious, but was driven away by an angry ten cents. stammering on his excuses, he quickly ran away.

their second, third, and so-on encounter wasn’t any better. ten cents grew out of shouting at zip and just shot glares at him. there’s even a moment where ten cents directly asked zip what his deal was, to which he replied that he’s just wondering what ten cents was up to.

ten cents: and how is that any of your business, eh? wanna snitch on me? zip: oh, a man c-can’t even be wary of what his enemy’s up to anymore?

ten cents just pursed his lips at that and went away. any anger or assumption of villainy that he had towards the newest z-stack dissipated. what a weirdo, he thought.

eventually, ten cents realized just how bad zip was at maintaining his “devious and scheming” front and that he’s most likely a young man who got mixed with the wrong crowd. his annoyance turned into… fondness? amusement? anyways. the next week, ten cents could feel zip’s stare at him from the shop’s window, so he eventually got zip to come to him by calling him over to the bench (“you ever do anything besides running errands for captain zero?”). there’s still tension in the air and ten cents wasn’t even sure that he’s making the right choice by calling zip over, but they bonded over the hard crossword puzzles. they shared quips and banters, though they both notice the lack of malice whenever they make fun of one another.

there’s an unspoken understanding that their respective captains won’t be happy to see them together, so they bid farewell after a while. ten cents and zip felt something odd. one felt fun being around the other. they also began to be more amicable at work instead of showing hostility, much to the confusion of their peers (and displeased eye rolls from zug and zak). they met outside of work again and ten cents noticed a pattern on the time zip usually went out and how he’d always go out at least twice a week.

they gradually warm up to each other and start hanging out more and more. it gradually went from coincidental to planned. ten cents enjoyed zip’s interest in the things he enjoy, while zip enjoys having ten cents around and talking with him about things not related to work, mainly because there’s nobody in the z-stacks that’s his age. just teenagers being teenagers.

ten cents learned that zip likes reading children’s books and aesop fables. some of his favorites are pinnochio and the country mouse and town mouse story. he also began to like doing word puzzles like crosswords and word searches and was still learning how to read and write. zip learned that ten cents likes drinking coke, playing card games like blackjack, and exploring/learning new places and things “like folks with money”.

ten cents promised that he’ll teach zip anything that he wanted to know. how to let loose a little bit. he taught zip how to attract pigeons at the dock. he taught zip how to open a can of cola with his teeth, how to (incorrectly) use random objects they found near abandoned schools, how to float on the water, how to sneak into cinemas, how to dance, how it feels to have a friend, and so on. ten cents just wants to show zip what living is really like despite being stuck under his captain’s tutelage himself, and he didn’t know exactly why.

they understand that they share a lot of similarities. the one clash they have was about their captains. ten cents dislikes captain star’s way of running things and generally has a really complicated way of viewing him, while zip, who has rose tinted glasses equipped for captain zero, didn’t understand why he dislikes captain star. every child are obligated to love their guardians. that’s just how things are. those are what zip thought. this didn’t sit well with ten cents who was actively seeking freedom for himself without captain star at his ear all the time.

unfortunately their respective captains weren’t exactly very fond of them being buddy-buddy with each other. captain star believes that ten cents is getting more out of hand, while captain zero dismisses zip’s feelings for ten cents as naive and foolish. not to mention how their captains are divorced from each other. that’s definitely affecting what they taught about love to ten cents and zip.

captain star @ ten cents: I’m trying to put you in the correct path, but here you are, fraternizing with someone from the z-stacks. I want you to be happy, but what have you been doing? captain zero @ zip: what you have for him is MERE teenage infatuation. if there are other people in your place, he would befriend them instead. that’s not TRUE camaraderie, boy.

ten cents didn’t take into account what captain star said. he knew that he’s dead set on wanting to hang out with zip more. besides, despite being a bit wary, some of his friends were supportive of him, especially sunshine and hercules (who also slips in money so ten cents can take zip out). hercules even took ten cents and zip on car rides. sunshine and hercules were no snitch.

zip, however, was still influenced by captain zero and believed that anything good he has will eventually go away. all of these gave their friendship a lot of ups and downs, not to mention how they disagreed on a lot of things as much as they agreed with. zip’s loyalty to captain zero still outweighed his friendship with ten cents even though they’re getting closer.

zip had mentioned several times how much he adore and love captain zero like one does to their father, yet all ten cents know about the z-stacks captain through zip was how slimy and morally questionable he is. zip was so happy when he recounted the times he went shooting birds and handling rabid dogs with captain zero, when captain zero taught him how to handle guns and how he “””affectionately””” called zip “boy”, when he watched his z-stacks folks fight a bunch of drunk thugs, and so on. ten cents also learned that zip’s name was given to him by the z-stacks, not by his parents or anything. why were all of zip’s stories so… odd? yet zip said it all casually as if… he didn’t understand the weight of those sentences he’s said.

ten cents: heheh. what’s so good about living with captain zero, anyways? zip: wouldn’t you like to know! I get three meals a day and have a place to sleep. I also get money for my hard work. oh, I’m practically living the life! ten cents: ten cents: hey, that’s… uh. that’s the bare minimum, zip. zip: huh? oh, alright. ten cents: zip: zip: so, um, wanna go cool down by the beach? ten cents: sure, zip.

which is why ten cents was horrified to hear zip easily say “people end up miserable at the end of their relationships.” during one of their hangouts. ten cents’ habit of lashing out when he’s frustrated was starting to boil, but he got ahold of himself and just nodded to what zip said, incredibly disappointed. he did know something more sinister was at play here. the remainder of the hangout was awkward, so they went their respective ways and didn’t hang out for a week, though they still greeted each other at work.

they then found themselves missing each other. ten cents still spends time with his best friend sunshine, but sunshine already knows everything there is about ten cents. zip got bored and fidgety with his significantly older coworkers because all they talked about were barges and contracts (sans zorran and zebedee who had shown some semblance of worry for him). captain zero became more paranoid and demanding of everyone, especially zip whom he needed yet barely cared for. zip thought hanging out with ten cents was fun. it felt good and natural. this was a friendship that was not influenced by the state of their respective companies’ rivalry. zip wanted more from what he has with ten cents.

zip believes that ten cents was purposefully avoiding him. he confronted ten cents and asked why they weren’t seeing each other as much lately, afraid of not being friends with ten cents anymore. ten cents told him that they’ll always be friends. friends have their disagreements. so they talked. ten cents told zip that he should be more careful in taking into consideration the things captain zero had taught zip (he knew he had to use words that zip can both understand and not get offended at) and he didn’t want zip to get himself into danger trouble. zip nodded. he told ten cents that he’s beginning to question captain zero a lot, being uncomfortable because zip realized that the z-stacks might not like him as much as he liked them, and felt like he didn’t belong in the z-stacks… but zip brushed them all off as him being a stupid boy. after he’s done, ten cents pulled zip into a hug slowly, as if he doesn’t want to shock him, as if he’s telling him that he’s not stupid and that he’s wrong about a lot of things. zip was still confused, but he knew full well that the hug felt nice. he liked the hug. their relationship seemingly took an ascending hill from that point.

ten cents didn’t want to ruin the friendship they have because he treated zip as a ray of hope of living like a “normal” young man, while zip was still hauled by captain zero’s belief that he’s destined to be miserable if he pursues this relationship. it didn’t help that zip knows he’s in love with ten cents but didn’t know how to process it because nobody taught him what a healthy relationship is like (then zorran came into view, having warmed up and bettered himself throughout the course of fortezza bigg city).

on one of their hangouts, in a field a bit far from bigg city port, zip blurted out that he loves ten cents in a romantic way. he’d always feel genuinely safe and happy whenever he’s around the star fleet youth, saying that he wants ten cents to keep teaching him fun things and always be with him. ten cents, though initially surprised at the absolute courage zip had at saying something so bold, quickly reciprocated. they had a feeling that they’ve been in love with each other for a while. zip wanted ten cents to teach him how to be a good partner in a relationship but ten cents said that they can learn together. they can take it slow. they don’t have to do the things people in relationships do when the both of them aren’t ready yet. ten cents admitted that the things that he had taught to zip were also things he had little experience prior. zip laughed, and once again, they shared a hug.

this time, it was zip teaching ten cents and bringing him to places. their relationship had little change compared to their friendship except that they’re more touchy feely with each other – ten cents putting his hand on zip’s shoulder, zip resting his head on ten cents’, hugging, hand holding, all that – considering that they’re now dating. they eventually kissed when zip asked ten cents to kiss him, although awkwardly and shyly (uncharacteristically so from ten cents’ side), but felt good, it felt right.

they kept their relationship mostly a secret because they know not everyone will be happy with it. sunshine fully understands, both because he has ten cents’ full trust and knows what it’s like to be in a relationship with someone that not many people liked (that is bigg city port’s harbinger of bad luck). hercules too. he believes in their decision but still made sure the two boys weren’t doing anything stupid. zebedee and zorran were more lax with their youngest coworker dating someone from the star fleet. zebedee didn’t pry too much on zip’s business but he did ask from time to time how ten cents was doing. zorran, on the other hand, was more fussy – wanting the best for zip and to stop him from spiraling down like he did, but he knew that a certain someone has his eyes on them. captain zero would NOT be happy. they mostly try to keep zak and zug from snitching to captain zero… which would later produce a domino effect on the z-stacks’ security.

ten cents and zip’s relationship didn’t always go smoothly. they love each other – it’s just that the environment they’re in aren’t exactly in favor of the relationship they want. captain star still keeping the star fleet in the dark about his past, zip slowly losing faith in captain zero and purposefully not allowed to know that captain zero has criminal relations and the z-stacks are in cahoots with him, johnny cuba with his blackmail, the police growing more wary about the criminal activities infesting bigg city port, the possibility of captain zero having to run away if his cover gets blown, ten cents knowing full well that zip is going to be caught in the crossfire if captain star decides to take action yet not knowing how to say it to zip properly…. and the fact that they’re in the great depression. just all around not a great time

(there’s a plot point in fortezza bigg city where captain zero’s past relations caught up to him and zip eventually had to pay a visit to the star fleet in their office building, but it’s WAY too long and hard and tragic to explain. this is a long story. thanks for being patient)

at the end of the story, both ten cents and zip have changed significantly. ten cents is more mellowed and patient – willing to understand people who are not exactly as “right” as he is. zip is no longer the naive, easily influenced young man that idolized and looked up to captain zero. despite what captain star had put upon him, ten cents wished he was better. despite what captain zero had done to him, zip still loved captain zero.

but it’s alright. they know they have someone that knows what they went through.

(there’s also a couple of fics I’m writing right now related to zipcents. one involves them and school, while the other is heavily zip-centric)

#asks #mintydeluxes-blog #this is tugs #tugs ten cents #tugs zip #zipcents #fortezza bigg city #senjart #this was very long ... took me a while to write!! phew!!!!#hope you enjoy. I wish nothing but the best for these two (gritting my teeth)

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