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feeder86 · 3 months

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Law and Orders

Liam had rolled his eyes as he’d had his instructions from the chief to patrol the viewpoint that Saturday night. Three years into his service at this police force and he was still getting all of the tedious tasks that no one else wanted. This one, however, was always particulalrly awkward; knocking on the windows of steamed up cars, usually to find two horned-up teenagers ending their dates with a bit of heavy petting. He’d have to advise them that it was a public area and ask, didn’t they know that this was a form of public indecency?

Like an actor upon the stage, Liam could recall the same speech each and every time. He’d have to stand there as they squirmed in his presence, or tried not to giggle nervously at having been caught by a police officer. But was it really that much of a big deal? Not so much for Liam. He’d been there, back at the end of high school, dating his first boyfriend and coming up here for some private time, given that there was nowhere else in this small town for them to go to.

Parking up that evening, Liam could see only one car in the parking lot - not surprising, given how he’d procrastinated and delayed coming up here until it was late enough for most of the cars to have dispersed naturally. Still, the steamed-up windows were a giveaway that something was afoot inside the only remaining vehicle. He took a deep breath and quietly approached the passenger window.

Loud, longing groans were heard from inside, giving Liam the sense that his timing could not have been worse for the passionate pair. Still, he had his duty to perform.

Tap, tap, tap.

Liam’s knuckles hit the glass; firm and authoritative. The response was always the same. A sudden silence from within, followed by a sense of panic and a delay of at least ten seconds before the window was finally rolled down.

“Officer!” came a cheery and surprisingly upbeat voice from the driver’s seat. “How can I help you?”

It was a male’s voice, seemingly dripping with amusement from being caught out like this. Then the man reached his hand up to the interior light, illuminating the inside of the vehicle so that the officer could see their faces properly.

There were so many things for Liam to take in once he could see the two people inside the vehicle. Both male, there was a shocking contrast in their size and appearance. Liam recognised the driver straight away: Jesse, the star athlete from the year below him in high school. Liam remembered him smashing almost every sporting record held at the school; including some of the ones Liam had set himself during his time there. Now Jesse’s athletic and muscular body was looking fine in his perfectly fitted shirt; that handsome face still as alluring as ever. However, his date was not looking quite so immaculate; hijacking Liam’s attention as soon as he spotted the sauce stains smeared around the guy’s mouth.

Liam had had no idea that Jesse dated guys. Understandable, given how quickly this jock was known for going through girls back in high school. Still, it was jarring to see the hunk’s date that evening. A large, heavy guy with a giant, ball-like stomach, equally smeared with food stains as he tried to quickly conceal it with his fumbling hands attempting to button a shirt back up as fast as possible - and failing miserably.

“I take it you gentlemen know this is a public area?” Liam began, trying to begin his usual speech and maintain his composure, despite the confusing scene that he had walked in on.

Jesse responded immediately; a beaming smile plastered across his face as if he was genuinely enjoying seeing his date squirm so much under the scrutiny of a police officer. “Oh, yeah. Sorry,” he chuckled. “It’s just so late and my big fat boy here was so hungry…” he teased.

“Jesse!” the heavyset man from the passenger seat hissed in embarrassment as the jock began stroking the guy’s large, bloated stomach that would not return into the safety of the overly tight shirt.

“Um, well…” Liam fumbled, trying to get back on track with his usual speech. He looked around the inside of the car, noticing the piles of wrappers and fast food containers that made it all so untidy. Then, with a sudden jolt in his groin, Liam recognised immediately what was going on here. This was feedism - it had to be! All the signs seemed to suggest it. Jesse was clearly enjoying watching his date stuffing himself with food to the absolute max, then rubbing that enlarged, strained gut that was giving them both so much pleasure.

“We were just heading back now, officer,” the overweight passenger declared, finally regaining some composure as his gut was at last concealed. “We’re very sorry to have taken up your time, Sir.”

“Heading back?” Jesse smirked, not done teasing his date. “But, honey, you’ve still got all this ice cream to swallow down for me…”

Liam felt his own face flushing with blood just as much as Jesse’s date. He’d always had an interest in this sort of play. He’d seen videos of guys rubbing down mostrously overweight guts and he’d read stories about the pleasure of stuffing and fattening a man to absolute extremes. Whatever he needed to tell these two men, his entire speech had left his brain. He simply stood there, mute. Finally stepping back as the window rolled shut and the car roared into life, cruising out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.

Suddenly forced back into the cold, dark silence, Liam knew that this would be a night he could never forget.

“Have you ever had any run-ins with Jesse Rodans?” Liam asked his chief the next day.

“Scott Rodan’s lad?” the older man asked with a grimace, having had a vendetta against Jesse’s dad ever since Liam had known him. It was a small town, with old vendettas aplenty if you searched hard enough. “A couple of speeding tickets and a bit of backchat when he’s been questioned about things. But that’s what happens when daddy buys you a sports car at the age of sixteen. A typical spoiled brat. You know the type. Why do you ask?”

“Just… the speeding thing,” Liam lied, thinking on his feet. “Someone was complaining to me yesterday about seeing his car going through the middle of town at quite a pace.”

“Typical!” the chief tutted. “These rich kids are all the same. They think they own everything and that the rules don’t apply to them.”

Liam nodded, his mind still racing from his encounter the night before. Finding out that Jesse was a feeder had stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt so strongly in quite some time. He’d gazed at the body of his chief and wondered what a guy like Jesse would have made of him; almost forty, with large, sagging nipples that rested on a very large ball-shaped gut; not to mention the sheer width of the guy’s backside and the way he waddled slightly whenever he walked. It was fascinating.

“Listen, I think you should keep an eye on this Jesse and try to get to the bottom of these speeding incidents,” the chief continued, seemingly just thinking out loud. “It probably wouldn’t take much for a judge to take his driving licence away from him. And what a shame that would be, huh?” he joked, smirking wickedly as he strolled by, patting Liam on his shoulder as he did so.

Liam swallowed, half wishing that he hadn’t said anything at all.

It didn’t take long for Jesse to fall back into Liam’s orbit; especially when the young officer had waited at a concealed junction for Jesse’s drive home from the gym; just as his chief had advised. He stepped out of his vehicle, having clocked Jesse exceeding the speed limit, quite considerably, and made his way over to the driver’s window.

“Well, well, well… It’s you again,” Jesse smirked from inside his sports car, clearly unfazed from being stopped by the police.

“Do you have any idea of the speed you were just doing, sir?” Liam began.

“You know, there’s just something so sexy about a man in uniform,” Jesse continued, ignoring the question and the serious situation he was in entirely.

“Going by what I saw on Saturday night, I wouldn’t have thought I was your type,” Liam shot back breezily as he wrote out the ticket.

“Oh, don’t you worry; I’d soon fix that…” Jesse smirked, obviously checking out Liam’s tight butt as he still sat inside his own car.

Liam knew he had a job to do: issue the damn ticket and get the hell out of there. But Jesse’s words were so… indescribable to him; so unfathomably alluring and surprising. He found his concentration waning as his arousal began to spike; something that he had never experienced whilst working before.

“After all, cops love doughnuts, don’t they?” Jesse teased, simply waiting for the ticket to be handed to him and knowing that the financial penalty would mean less than nothing to him.

Liam chuckled, trying to seem more laid back than he felt. Inside his brain, every synapse seemed to be sparking with electricity. “You’re right. We do love our doughnuts,” he joked back.

Jesse smiled and didn’t respond straight away. He seemed momentarily surprised that Liam was playing along with his backchat and not just trying to stamp his authority. He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Well then, maybe you should let me take you out for some doughnuts sometime,” he offered, brimming with his own self-confidence.

Liam felt the need to retreat, quickly. “I don’t think that would be entirely appropriate,” he mumbled.

“Neither is your boner,” Jesse retorted quickly, pointing aimlessly towards Liam’s crotch. “But, maybe if you let me take you out sometime, I’ll let it slide,” he laughed. “Here,” he offered, simultaneously taking his speeding ticket and exchanging a contact card for himself into Liam’s own hand. “Call me,” he smirked, starting up his car and racing off once more.

Left in the dust, Liam looked around in shock. What had just happened?

Thankfully, no complaint had been made against Liam the following week. He’d not slept all that well; anxious about the possibility of Jesse making an accusation against him for his conduct during the speeding ticket incident. But then there was the other reason why he hadn’t slept…

Liam had always had a bit of a fat kink for as long as he could remember; a fascination with the way the blubber spread across a body, jiggling and moving as they walked. He’d often yearned to know what that felt like and became aroused by the idea of the teasing and comments he might get if he ever was to let go in the same way that a guy like his chief had. But he’d had a goal to join the force for many years now, and that had required hard training and dedication. Even at the height of his high school sporting success, he’d never been in the peak physical condition that he was in right now. Yet, the thought of a real feeder wanting to get hold of him… he could hardly describe the arousal that gave him. Not that Liam was ever going to give Jesse a call. Not ever.

It was a late finish one Friday evening when Liam was walking out to the parking lot and saw Jesse sitting on the hood of his sports car, grinning at him. Liam froze instantly, his heart pounding.

“There you are!” Jesse smirked. “I’ve been out here over an hour waiting for your shift to finish.”

“Can I help you with something?” Liam asked, still trying to stay in work-mode and handle this professionally.

“My date tonight fell through, so I thought I’d come and find you instead. I’ve been waiting for you to call me. Guys don’t usually leave me hanging like that,,” he smiled, as if completely in control of the situation.

“Is this about the speeding ticket?” Liam asked, trying to avoid getting turned on by Jesse’s perfectly toned body, or lose himself in the guy’s deep brown eyes.

Jesse simply laughed. “You’re cute. Come on,” he beckoned, already getting himself into his car. “We’ll just grab a bite to eat.”

The lights on the sports car swivelled into life and the deep rumble of the engine rolled through the quiet evening. Still Liam stood there, frozen to the spot. And yet, there were his feet slowly starting to shuffle forwards. Jesse slid the car towards him and reached across to swing open the door. Then, just like that, Liam was sitting inside, roaring down the street with no idea where he was heading.

“I wasn’t sure whether you remembered me from high school,” Liam chuckled after they’d parked up somewhere a few minutes later and the conversation had started to flow. “After all, I was in the year above you.”

“No, I recongnised you right away,” Jesse explained. “I used to date one of your best friends. Not that he’s ever come out of the closet. Even now, after all these years.”

“You did?” Liam asked, surprised. “Who was it?”

“Your buddy, Martin.”

“Martin..? But… no! That can’t be right!” Liam spluttered. “He’s married to a woman.”

“And probably living unhappily ever after,” Jesse simply chuckled without a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“Well, I never would have guessed that!” Liam sighed in shock.

“I’m the reason he got kicked off the football team. I put 50lbs of pure fat on him within five months of dating. He was my first success story.”

“That was YOU?” Liam blasted in alarm, thinking back to how much weight Martin had gained in their final few months of high school, and how quietly erotic it had all seemed to his impressionable young mind.

“It’s amazing what a few substitutes in a protein shake can do to a guy,” Jesse sniggered.

“So he didn’t even realise what you were doing?” Liam asked, flabbergasted.

Jesse simply chuckled without regret. “I worked hard for my bad boy reputation,” he nodded proudly. “I was a horny seventeen year old, dating my first boyfriend and had free access to my dad’s credit card. I knew how to spoil a guy with a naturally good appetite, like Martin.”

“He never lost that weight, you know,” Liam continued. “I saw him a couple of months ago. He’s still pretty chubby. Even now.”

Jesse huffed with disapproval. “Yeah, but he should be fatter by now. If he hadn’t dumped me the minute his sister was close to finding out about us, I could have had him up and over 500lbs by now. That boy was an absolute pig!” he laughed nostalgically.

Liam chuckled, briefly assuming that Jesse was joking. By the time he realised he wasn’t, he felt the hardness in his crotch throb even more. He tried to change the conversation onto something more conventional but Jesse was having none of it, staring into his eyes flirtatiously and rubbing his hand across Liam’s thigh in a way that set fireworks off in his head. He leaned in and, even without thinking, Liam’s lips moved to meet his. He felt his hands brushing against Jesse’s athletic chest and his heart racing faster than ever. There was something so inescapably intoxicating about Jesse: the confidence, the swagger, the complete lack of shame. Falling into his trap felt like such a sweet dream.

“Do you want to see me again?” Jesse whispered as they came out of a long spell of passion.

“Yes,” Liam answered immediately, making Jesse smirk.

“Good,” the hunk whispered, remaining calmer and more composed than Liam could. Then he made his move, sliding his hand across Liam’s flat, muscular stomach and grinning with a wicked intention that flared every one of Liam’s senses.

Despite the pathetic speed with which Liam responded to any messages from Jesse in the coming weeks, he couldn’t honest;y say that he was ‘dating’ the man he had issued a speeding ticket to only a few weeks earlier. Jesse simply had an intoxicating, devilish way about him that Liam could never resist. They began fooling around together on a semi-regular basis. Jesse would come over and be his usual, flirtatious self. He’d begin talking about the fat guys he’d dated or fed, then smirk as he saw how Liam couldn’t quite hide his arousal. They’d kiss whilst Jesse explained some more. They’d begin stripping their clothes off as Jesse described in detail how mercilessly he’d stuffed even the very greediest guys and rejoiced in seeing their clothes getting tighter and tighter; from the sprouting of a brand new pot belly to the sagging of a monstrous tank. Those stories and minute details never failed to make Liam climax with more intensity than ever before.

“So that’s your boss?” Jesse asked, picking Liam up from the station one evening.

“That’s the chief. Yes,” Liam nodded, already sensing that the feeder was swooning over his boss’ gigantic gut.

“Now I finally understand why some folks have a thing for guys in uniform,” Jesse joked. “There’s no hiding a gut like that under those shirts! My cousin is a lucky gal!”

“Your cousin?” Liam asked.

“It’s a small town. Everyone is related somehow,” he laughed, rolling his eyes. “My dad, perhaps unfarily, inherited the entirety of his father’s business. Now the rest of the family want nothing to do with us. Which is quite a shame, considering the eye candy that’s married into it…” he joked, still admiring the fat-bellied man.

The two of them watched as the chief waddled from the station. Then they both laughed as they saw him trotting into the pizza place a couple of doors down and fished out his wallet to order something tasty for himself mid-shift.

“That’s it, Fat Boy!” Jesse whispered as he watched the obese man from the darkness of the car. “Eat up, Piggy. Bust a few more buttons on that shirt for me,” he chuckled.

Liam laughed. He had so much respect for his boss, but hearing Jesse reducing him to nothing more than a greedy glutton was also turning him on in a way that he didn’t realise it would. “I think your cousin is a bit of a feeder,” Liam went on to explain, curious to see where his observations may lead the conversation. “She’s super slim, and yet, she sends him into work with some of the biggest slices of cake I’ve ever seen.”

Jesse laughed wickedly, still eyeing the chief as the man leaned over the counter to order; displaying the full width of his broad, under-exercised butt. “Of course she does!” he nodded.”We’re probably cut from the same cloth; her and me.” Then he turned to Liam and kissed him passionately, full of arousal. “You coming back to my place?”

Despite being a year older than Jesse and considerably more well rounded in his life experiences and career, Liam had the overwhelming sense that he was being wined and dined by someone much more polished and worldly wise than himself. Jesse lived in an apartment, bought for him by his parents, and had an overpaid position within their family business that was clearly little more than an excuse to get him out of bed in the morning. Yet, whenever Liam saw him, spoke to him, was coaxed into climaxing by him, Jesse would tell one of his well crafted real-life stories about feeding and weight gain. So aroused, Liam felt like he was in the presence of someone much more remarkable than anyone he had ever met in his life. He knew that Jesse’s charm and the affection was all part of the hunk’s toolkit. How better to make him relax than to lavish him with attention and quietly suggest that they head out for some more food…

Liam was panting, having just climaxed rather forcefully for the second time that night, watching a video Jesse had recorded last year. It was one of several videos on Jesse’s cell phone of him feeding and pleasuring guys of varying levels of obesity. Indeed, Jesse was so skilled at coaxing them into overeating, so clever with his well timed name-calling and erotic coaching, so tactile in the way he handled all their fat; it was impossible not to explode everywhere the minute the feeder started swirling his hand over his groin.

“I’m guessing you enjoyed that video?” Jesse smirked, admiring the mess all over Liam’s broad chest and starting to clear it up with a towel.

“You bet I did!” Liam nodded. “You’re so awesome!” he declared, feeling so completely satisfied in that moment. “I can’t believe that I found you, right here in this town; the year below me in high school, no less! You’re the only person I’ve ever met who shares this kink with me. It’s unbelieveable. We’re just… so similar.”

Jesse smirked again; a wry knowing smile. “We’re not similar, Liam,” he chuckled to himself.

“Of course we are,” Liam shot back, snuggling into Jesse. “We both just came watching gainer porn.”

“No, you just came watching gainer porn,” Jesse corrected him, allowing Liam to rest his head on his toned chest. “I came because I was watching you.”

“What’s the difference?” Liam laughed.

Jesse kissed the back of Liam’s head. “You’re so fucking cute, you know that?” he sighed, almost patronisingly.

Liam sat up a little and turned to face Jesse so that he could see his face. “What do you mean by that?”

“You make like you don’t know what’s happening here. When I train you to climax watching all this shit,” Jesse laughed. “I’ve monopolised your time for weeks, not letting you go to the gym or choose what we’re eating.” He paused, with eyes filling with mischief. Then he simply reached his hand out to Liam’s stomach and grabbed a small fold of fat that was starting to smother the guy’s abs. “I came because I was watching my very latest piggy project.”

Liam looked down at the fold of skin between Jesse’s fingers, hardly comprehending its existence. He heard Jesse’s soft moans as his fingers gently pressed against it and he watched with amazement at how fast the guy’s flacid penis filled with blood once more and stood erect.

“Suck it!” Jesse ordered him with a sudden burst of dominance. “Suck my dick, Pig Boy!” he barked, quoting the line from the feeding video that had previously sent Liam over the edge and made him ejaculate.

Liam’s mouth watered and he felt his head drifting into Jesse’s crotch and his lips parting.

“Mmm! That’s it, Fatty!” Jesse moaned, clearly arousing himself with his own words. “Good pigs know how to make their feeders happy.”

Liam felt his arousal spiking hearing the version of Jesse he had watced so many times on the videos he had been shown, suddenly appearing right in front of him: the bossy, hedonistic dominant now ordering him around in real life. Jesse had been right, those videos were so sexy to Liam because he had always imagined himself in the position of the gainers Jesse cajoled into overindulgence. That was the ultimate difference between them both. There weren’t many things that Liam was sure of in those moments, but there was one thing he was certain of: he was going to give Jesse the best blow job of his life.

In the following days, Liam could not remember a time when he had ever been so incredibly horny. Although all talk of his miniscule weight gain had ceased, the way that Jesse was now touching and handling him had altered beyond recognition. The subtle manipulations to stop him heading to the gym or choosing healthier food options were now nothing short of blatant. When Jesse discussed the future, he spoke of Liam’s decline into obesity as if it was an inescapable inevitability; a consequence of how aroused he was by the gainer videos he got off to, or the company he kept in allowing Jesse into his life. He opened his mouth and ate what he was fed during their sexual foreplay. He allowed himself to climax looking at the bloat of his stomach and got more caught up than ever in the tales that Jesse told.

“Does this mean that I’m officially a gainer?” Liam asked, handling an increasing softness that was swallowing his abs. He knew what he wanted Jesse to tell him; to call him a greedy piggy again, or declare that his 10lb gain was just the start of something a lot more serious; to make him ejaculate as yet another fresh doughnut was pushed into his mouth.

“No. Of course you’re not a gainer,” Jesse replied simply, as if the answer had been obvious.

The response caught Liam by surprise. “Why not?” he asked back, startled by his own disappointment.

“Because you don’t look any different yet,” Jesse shot back. “Sure, I can see a little extra blubber on your stomach, but you’ve got to be realistic here. No one has even noticed. This all just looks like a little muscle bulk with the way you’re filling out your shirts so far.”

“But, this isn’t muscle,” Liam mumbled. “I mean… look at me!”

“Honey!” Jesse laughed, rubbing Liam’s butt. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I might know that you’re a greedy little piggy, but the moment other people start seeing a change, that’s when we’ll know whether you’re a gainer or not.”

Liam looked confused, but the smug look on Jesse’s face made him rethink questioning the logic further. “If you say so,” he sighed. The idea of being a gainer did sound hot, but he was never really going to commit to it long-term.

When Liam looked in the mirror over the coming weeks, he noticed the puffiness of his blossoming cheeks and neck. Whilst his built body did well to hide the emerging swell underneath his clothes, Liam did begin to wonder whether anyone had actually noticed the now over 25lbs he had gained since officially dating Jesse. It didn’t matter that his clothes had grown so tight and needed changing; if no one was actually noticing, what real difference did it make? He was indulging his kinks, having the best time with Jesse, and not having to worry about anything else. It was a win, win!

Liam was in the station when it happened the first time. He was chatting to his colleague, Sandra about the new patisserie that had opened up in a nearby town when he noticed two other colleagues seem to snigger at each other. He looked over and furrowed his eyebrows, assuming that he was imagining it. Then, when he continued talking about the pastries he most enjoyed, he noticed them doing it again, out of the corner of his eye. Now when he looked over, one of the guys elbowed the other, as if to signal that they had been caught, and the pair of them burst into laughter.

“What’s up?” Liam asked them, managing to hide his annoyance.

The pair looked at each other and smirked, as if daring themselves to admit what they had been talking about. In the end, one of them sighed and chuckled, finally turning to face Liam.

“Dude, is food the only thing you talk about these days?” he blurted out.

“Don’t be jerks,” Sandra called out to the pair of them, as if she knew where they were going with this.

“All we’re saying is…” the other guy continued, “...you may want to start laying off all those pastries you’re so obsessed with.” Then, with a very accusatory finger, he pointed directly at Liam’s midsection and chuckled once again.

Liam looked down. He hadn’t noticed the strain and obvious thickness that his shirt was clearly now showing, and he sat up in shock, swallowing hard. His heart was beating fast and he could feel his face flushing. He sucked in his stomach, but that only seemed to make the two guys laugh even more.

“Ignore them. They’re being idiots,” Sandra offered consolingly, her eyes full of sympathy. “It’s not as if they’re not carrying a few extra pounds themselves.”

Liam felt the air catch in his chest and butterflies fill his stomach. Warm blood seemed to be filling his groin and a gentle tingling sensation stimulated the tip of his penis. This was it; the moment Jesse had talked about. People were actually calling him out on dropping the ball with his gym routine, his over-indulgence with food and the not so subtle effect it was having on his once immaculate body. He couldn’t put his finger on how it was making him feel, despite the panic it set in motion in his brain. All he knew was that the semi it gave him wouldn’t go down for the entirety of his shift.

“What were the fake protein shakes you used to make for Martin back in high school?” Liam asked, almost breathless with lust the next time he caught up with Jesse.

Jesse smiled wickedly with the memory. “You don’t want to know,” he chuckled to himself.

Liam kissed the perfect, sexy specimen in front of him as if he had just given the most perfect answer. “You’re right, I don’t want to know. I just want you to feed them to me instead. Every single night.”

Jesse took a step back. “Sure thing,” he nodded, despite the fact that his tone gave away his skepticism at Liam’s sincerity.

“I’m serious,” Liam protested. “I want to get fat for you. Seriously fucking fat!”

“You’d eat or drink anything I gave you? Without question?” Jesse asked, more intrigued.

With a burst of arousal, Liam had to reach down and touch himself as Jesse considered the proposal. In that moment, he realised that this form of surrender to Jesse was the thing that he had most wanted to do since he had first seen him in that parking lot. “Yes,” he nodded. “Without question.”

“You want to be my big, fat piggy?” Jesse asked, grinning now. Excited.

Liam kissed him passionately, the pair of them collapsing onto the couch. “Do it to me!” Liam demanded. “No holding back. Give me all you’ve got. Every last dirty trick in your feeding handbook!”

Behind his calculating eyes, Liam could see Jesse’s mind whirring into life; the firing of synapses and initation of thought processes that would ultimately, and irreversibly, alter Liam’s physique even further.

Over the coming weeks, Liam learned many new things about Jesse. Firstly, the guy’s ruthless ambitions when it came to transforming Liam’s physique was very apparent. This wasn’t simply a case of growing a little paunh or pot belly: the moobs, the back fat and double chins. Jesse observed every inch of his body, waiting for the changes to occur. Also, despite knowing how smart and shrewd Jesse was, the precision with which the guy planned Liam’s diet was really quite startling. Nothing that went into Liam’s mouth hadn’t been considered and chosen with care. Nothing that was whispered into his ear in those erotic moments hadn’t been tailored with perfection to trigger Liam’s emerging kinks. And when Liam was allowed to climax, there hadn’t been a single second wasted to ensure that every single possible calorie hadn’t been pushed into his saliva-dripping mouth first.

“Hey, Handsome,” Jesse smiled as Liam walked into his place after a long shift. He kissed him and let his hands slide around to feel up the officer’s glutes at the same time. It was one of the moments Liam found most arousing, knowing that this form of inspection was ongoing. He knew that Jesse wasn’t just waiting for his tight rear to simply develop a little softness; he was willing them, forcing them and programming them to swell and widen, losing all manner of shape or athleticism.

Liam first had to explain exactly what he had eaten on his night shift and how much of the shakes Jesse had provided had actually been consumed. Then Jesse nodded, writing it all down and adjusted his measures for the shakes he would prepare today. There wouldn’t be a weigh-in. Those only happened in the mornings when Liam had slept all night and his stomach was emptied. Jesse stated that he had no desire to cloud his data with false measurements; the results of bloating or stuffings that would only be temporary.

“How’re the new pants?” Jesse asked, sitting Liam down and heading to the refrigerator for a shake.

“Better,” Liam nodded, watching his boyfriend preparing things for him as he rested his feet. He hadn’t suffered as much with his pants during his shift as he had in previous days. Still, there was something rather startling about the fact that he now had to wear a 36 inch waist and still not being entirely comfortable.

He undid his shirt buttons and allowed his increasingly puffy chest begin to appear. Then, with a final tug, he let the newly-developed, squishy fat roll around his stomach plop onto his belt and he sighed with satisfaction, knowing that it looked even better than yesterday.

Jesse’s smirk seemed to agree as he looked over and surveyed the changes. Then, with well-oiled precision, he tipped Liam’s head back, inserted the funnel and began pouring once again. “Good piggy!”

A stark contrast began to develop between Jesse and Liam. It had been the summer when they’d made their relationship official and Jesse later admitted that he’d deliberately chosen to introduce Liam to all his family and friends at pool parties or beach trip; where Liam’s former physique had been well on show. It meant that the looks Liam was now getting were nothing short of rude: the stares, the sly comments. They made Jesse laugh and they triggered the well-trained regions of Liam’s brain so that they gave him the most pathetic of hard-ons that only a true gainer could understand.

“Are you still hungry, honey?” Jesse asked as the pair of them enjoyed a house warming party at one of Jesse’s friends' places.

Liam stifled a burp and shook his head. His new paunch felt as tight as a drum and seemed particularly emphasised by the oddly fitting t-shirt that Jesse had insisted he wore.

Jesse chuckled, never failing to be particularly affectionate with him when there was an audience. “Don’t be silly, baby. I’ll go get you some more cake,” he grinned, sliding off with that wicked smile on his face.

Liam looked up awkwardly at the friends of Jesse all gazed down on him with concern. They’d all long got the measure of Jesse, having witnessed him overfeeding many overweight and swelling boyfriends in the past. But the thing that they coild not be certain of was whether Liam knew any of this. Did he know that all this weight he had amassed in recent months had been far from accidental? That Jesse was clearly getting off on this, that he was probably even boasting about it behind Liam’s back? Yet they all, every last one of them, sat back and looked on with guilt as they allowed Jesse to continue pushing slice after slice of cake on an ever fattening Liam.

“Are you still using your gym subscription?” asked Liam’s aunt one afternoon when he had gone round to help her unclog her gutters.

Liam rolled his eyes whilst on the ladder, knowing that from this angle his aunt had a perfect view of his swollen tummy pushing out from the bottom of his shirt. “Sometimes,” he lied.

“Well…” Liam’s aunt sighed, ready to begin her speech. Mentioning the gym was, as Liam had learned in recent months, the way that a lot of people had quietly begun a conversation about his sudden weight gain and how he needed to get himself back in shape. “It just seems to me that…”

However, before she could get underway, the rumble of Jesse’s sports car filled their ears and Liam’s boyfriend soon rolled into the driveway.

“Martha!” he grinned charmingly, going in for a hug, knowing that all of the women in Liam’s family were smitten with him. “I hear you need some help with these drains.”

“Oh, yes. But, Liam’s got it all under control,” she smiled, failing to keep her eyes from wandering as handsome Jesse removed his shirt to begin the dirty work.

“This guy?” Jesse joked, pointing to his lover and handing him a covert calorie shake, right there in front of his aunt. “You’ll be waiting around all day if you leave it to Liam. You two head inside and I’ll have this all wrapped up in five minutes flat,” he smiled, taking the gloves from Liam and energetically hopping up onto the ladder in his place.

“Well, if you’re sure?” Martha mumbled, looking up awkwardly as Jesse’s muscular physique flexed beautifully in the afternoon light. Her gaze shifted to Liam; bloated, strangely pot-bellied and gulping down a shake as if he had just run a marathon. Then, like most others, she began to wonder just what it was that such a handsome man saw in her now quite noticeably overweight nephew.

“I hear you’re getting married,” Liam’s chief muttered, seeing Liam alone at his desk and quietly gorging himself on a few doughnuts.

Liam nodded, always feeling a little awkward when the chief tried to talk to him about his private life. Ever since he had learned that the chief’s wife was an estranged cousin of Jesse’s, Liam had felt like he was somehow caught in the middle.

The chief sat himself down, making the desk chair squeak in protest, and the large man sighed as if he had been considering his words carefully for the last few days. “Jesse is a good looking guy, but are you sure he’s who you really want?” he asked tentatively.

Liam nodded again. “Oh yes. Definitely,” he stated with certainty.

The chief smiled and chuckled slightly at the optimism of young love. “You remind me of myself at your age,” he sighed. “I used to be just like you.”

Liam couldn’t help feeling a twinge of arousal at the comparison. His well-trained mind automatically thought of all the times Jesse had told him how monstrously fat he would be in the future, and the idea of somehow ending up just like the chief someday was particularly exciting for him.

“It’s just…” the chief tried once more, rubbing his enormous stomach as if to give him courage. “You know how our families are linked?” he asked, having never mentioned it himself to Liam before now. He then waited for Liam to nod his head before continuing. “I feel like there are quite a few similarities between my wife and your Jessie. I love her dearly, but she’s no angel,” he chuckled affectionately to himself. “She had quite a reputation for being a bad girl around town when she was younger; certainly not a respectable choice for a young officer like myself to be dating back then!”

“Yeah, I’ve heard some of the stories,” Liam smiled back.

“The thing is…” the chief pressed on. “I started putting on a lot of weight when she asked me out.” He paused, taking a moment to look thoughtfully at Liam. “I thought it was just me being greedy. But I very quickly realised that that wasn’t the case. Or, at least, it wasn’t always the case,” he conceded.

Liam rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and found himself instinctively sucking in his stomach. He knew exactly where the chief’s comments were leading and he squirmed inwardly, now unable to make eye contact with him.

“It started fairly slowly; pants not fitting, shirts getting tight. I noticed this little tire around my waist and my appetite was becoming insatiable. I started looking more closely at my diet and I could see my wife… well, she was only my girlfriend back then… I could see that she was massively overfeeding me. On purpose.”

Liam raised his eyebrows, pretending to act surprised. Everyone here pretty much knew that the chief’s wife was a feeder.

“When something like that happens, you’ve got two choices,” the chief continued, looking hard at Liam. “My wife wasn’t going to change, so I could either make a run for it and get myself back in shape, or, I could embrace it.” Then, with a sweeping stroke of his strained, oversized stomach, the chief made clear what his choice had been. “And if you don’t mind me saying so, it looks like history may be repeating itself with you…”

Liam cleared his throat nervously. “You think?” he mumbled, looking away and feeling flushed with embraracement.

“What I’m about to say may shock you, but I believe that you need to hear it. I think your fiance might be a feeder.”

Liam felt the eyes of the chief upon him, searching for a reaction. “Um, wow…” he mumbled in response. “A feeder? You really think so?”

“Trust me, I know the signs,” the chief nodded, pointing directly at the puffed up stomach on Liam.

“Wow… I, uh. I don’t know what to say,” Liam mumbled.

“Now, what you do with this information is up to you,” the chief rambled on, holding his hands up as if his job was now complete; his conscience clean. “But, do you love him?”

The chief’s question caught Liam off-guard and the man repeated it once more, as if the young officer had not heard it the first time.

“Yes,” Liam nodded sincerely. “I do.”

“And this… this thing I told you about won’t change that?”

“No. Never,” Liam stated with absolute certainty.

The chief beamed. “Well then…” he declared, reaching over and stealing one of Liam’s doughnuts. “Do yourself a favour and change that shirt of yours for something bigger. Those buttons have been straining all week. I know how hard it is when you gain a few pounds and how people talk. But if anyone says anything, I want you to come straight to me. Okay?”

Liam nodded; his eyes still wide with shock.

“However, saying that, if you want people to take you seriously around here, you’ll need to keep your uniform nice and smart and, most importantly, roomy. Always at least one size up. You hear me?”

Liam nodded and smiled. He hadn’t realised how much a simple act of acceptance could make him feel so good, as well as strangely aroused. “Yes, Chief,” he beamed.

After that day, Liam didn’t feel quite so much need to suck his stomach in at work. Jesse noticed a change in him too; the way he didn’t mind slouching in public and holding himself in a way that would obviously be rather conventionally unflattering to his appearance. It was a good thing too, for the small little paunch that had been in development was very quickly taking shape into something much more sizable. Liam rested his hands on top of it, hardly believing that the little shelf of stomach fat was actually his. He turned to his side in the mirror, marvelling at the plush love handles that had swollen from above his hips and he bounced his under-exercised glutes, getting aroused by the sheer weight and softness that had developed within them.

Jesse, meanwhile, had been training his own body in the complete opposite direction, building his chest and pecs more than ever before; never failing to take his shirt off at any opportunity. “Look at us!” the hunk would order as they both gazed at their naked reflections in the mirror; their increasingly contrasting forms exciting them both more and more each and every time.

“Only three more weeks to go until the wedding,” Jesse reminded his lover as the final calorie shake of the day sat there on the counter, waiting for Liam to be ready for it.

Liam exhaled, knowing that he would indeed have to find space in his stomach for the shake somewhere. This time of night was always the hardest; the final push before bed. However, it was also the most enoyable time; when his gut was at its tightest and it pushed out in front of him as if he was already another 30lbs heavier. “Just give me another couple of minutes and I’ll be ready,” he smiled lovingly at his finace. Even now, he couldn’t believe his luck, finding someone so sexy and fun, willing to push him to these extremes and watch him grow. “I love you,” he whispered as Jesse moved down to Liam’s crotch, stimulating his appetite by keeping him erect and horny the entire time.

“I love you too, Fat Boy!” Jesse teased back. “And I can’t wait to have you as my husband. All mine at long last!”

Liam sighed in joy. He loved this idea more than anything else; being Jesse’s plaything for the rest of his life; being shaped and moulded, just as the handsome hunk wanted. “Some days, I just can’t believe how lucky I am that you chose me,” Liam smiled; his eyes dripping with lust as Jesse’s mouth slid seductively over his hardness.

“You know exactly why I chose you,” Jesse laughed, “Out of all the fatties I’ve ever played with, none of them ever got as hard as your little dick does when I tell them how fat they’re going to get.”

Liam nodded, knowing that Jesse had indeed told him this many times; that from the first time he had reached down and held Liam’s erection, felt the strength of the muscle, the warmth of all the blood coursing through it, the throbbing with every word Jesse spoke about feeding and fattening others, Liam’s lardy fate had always been clear to him.

“If you think I’m tough on you now, just wait until after the wedding, Piggy,” Jesse grinned, standing up and grabbing Liam’s shake to hand it to him. “You’re going to be swallowing a lot more of these soon,” he laughed, stroking Liam’s double chin until the guy’s head fell back, ready for the calories to be poured in.

Liam returned from his two week honeymoon a very much changed man. It was as if all of his previous athleticism had finally been stripped from him, His chest had at last succumed to the mounting fat that was swelling across his body, and his upper arms, once so muscular and toned, had now begun to shake and jiggle as the softing mass spread underneath the surface of the skin. The photographer had sent the first shots from their wedding day and Jesse had purposefully fed Liam and sucked him off whilst he gazed at the most unflattering of all of them; his puffy cheeks, double chin and rounded gut there for all to see. Already he looked as if he had spent a lifetime with his feeder, yet it had really only just begun. He’d hit 300lbs on their honeymoon through a considerable amount of effort on both their parts. Now, back in work, his natural hunger was hard to satisfy. With help from the chief, he’d applied for, and accepted, a promotion at work, leading to greater responsibilities and more time at his desk; a very much welcome relief. Since dating Jesse, he’d gradually become more estranged from the colleagues he used to hang around with, only making it easier when he became the one to issue orders and instructions to them.

“Hi Joe,” Jesse grinned, strutting into the station and waving at the enormously obese chief, much as he always did. The large man was still so much bigger than Liam and yet, that gap was narrowing every single day. “Where’s my handsome husband got to?”

“In there,” the chief pointed to a little room to the side. “He may still be a while yet. It’s quite a complicated case.”

Jesse slumped in the chair like a spoiled brat denied his plaything. “Has he at least eaten well today?” Jesse asked his cousin’s husband. “I’m trying to get at least six thousand calories down him every day this week.”

“Oh, he’ll have hit that, no problem,” the chief nodded. “I saw him drinking three of your special shakes today and a very big lunch. Plus, I saw him coming back with a tray of doughnuts earlier and there certainly aren’t any left now. I told you those appetite stimulants would be effective in his shakes. He won’t even taste them in there if you keep adding enough syrrup to the recipe.”

Jesse nodded. He definitely had to agree. In fact, his cousin’s enormously oversized husband had been a great source of expertise from the very start.

“Since you’re here, you can look at this,” the chief chuckled, reaching into his desk drawer with a grunt. “I found it the other day; our Police staff Christmas party from four years ago. Just look at how slim and fit Liam was back then! His tiny waist! Who would have guessed he’d turn into such a porker after this?” he laughed.

Jesse laughed as well, seeing the once athletic and naturally handsome man he had since married and fattened beyond recognition; now swollen over 360lbs and fattening more every single day. “Well, you certainly guessed it,” Jesse chuckled back at his cousin’s husband. “I never would have spotted him as a potential fatty without you giving me the heads up and tyring to push us together.”

The chief chuckled to himself and nodded in agreement. “I’m fairly good at spotting guys with the same kinks as me. It was at the party…” he pointed back at the photograph in his hand, “that I spotted him looking across at my fat gut, and I just knew there was a hint of jealousy in there. All he needed was the right feeder to get their hands on him,” he laughed. “Your cousin always said you’d be ruthless once you got your own fatty to play with, and she was right. It was the least I could do, after all the help you gave us when I first got with your cousin. I was so desperate to get fat. My old abs didn’t know what had hit them once you started assisting us,” he smiled, reminising fondly. “A bit like your Liam. You should hear some of the names they call him down here behind his back now!” he grinned, clearly taking pleasure from being a part of it all.

“It looks like they’re finishing up,” Jesse noticed, seeing shadows moving behind the drawn blinds of the room where Liam was in. Then he stepped back from the chief and perched himself on Liam’s desk, waiting innocently.

Liam emerged, his hands on his wide hips and looking tired. He wore his tie long, draping over his large stomach which had started to untuck the ever-shrinking shirt that tried to contain it. “What are you doing here?” he beamed, seeing his muscular husband waiting for him. He strolled over, suddenly noticing the chief not far away and deciding to remain professional in his presence.

“Special delivery,” Jesse winked, passing over a couple of flasks of calorie shakes, which Liam immediately tried to conceal from the chief’s view. “Just because you need to work late, doesn’t mean I’m letting you slide on your calorie targets today.”

Liam smiled, but shushed Jesse nonetheless in case the chief overheard him and thought they were an even more strange and mismatched pair than he probably already did.

“You will be home soon, won’t you?” Jesse asked, grinning like a man who already knew his charms. “I’ve got something very special in the oven for my Fat Boy!” he teased, discreetly patting his husband’s gut in a way that he knew would excite him.

“I won’t be too much longer, I promise,” Liam smiled back, smitten with love and lust for the man of his dreams. “And then I’ll eat every last bite for you…”

Jesse grinned. “Good boy,” he laughed, giving Liam a quick peck on the lips and walking away, only giving the chief a simple, polite wave, as if they were mere casual acquaintances after all. “I’ll hold you to that, Fatty!”

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coochiequeens · 6 days

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I know this blog focuses on TIMs invading women’s sports and locker rooms but Saving Women’s Sports means more than that. Like calling out sexist bs when companies give men real clothes to compete in and women get basically underwear.

The Nike Air Innovation Summit in Paris on Thursday.Credit...Dominique Maitre/WWD, via Getty Images

By Vanessa Friedman April 12, 2024

Ever since the Norwegian women’s beach handball team turned the fact that they were required to wear teeny-tiny bikini bottoms for competition into a cause célèbre, a quiet revolution has been brewing throughout women’s sports. It’s one that questions received conventions about what female athletes do — or don’t — have to wear to perform at their very best.

It has touched women’s soccer (why white shorts?), gymnastics (why not a unitard rather than a leotard?), field hockey (why a low-cut tank top?) and many more, including running.

So it probably should not have come as a shock to Nike that when it offered a sneak peek of the Team U.S.A. track and field unies during a Nike Air event in Paris celebrating its Air technology on Thursday (which also included looks for other Olympic athletes, like Kenya’s track and field team, France’s basketball team and Korea’s break dancing delegation), they were met with some less-than-enthusiastic reactions.

See, the two uniforms Nike chose to single out on the mannequins included a men’s compression tank top and mid-thigh-length compression shorts and a woman’s bodysuit, cut notably high on the hip. It looked sort of like a sporty version of a 1980s workout leotard. As it was displayed, the bodysuit seemed as if it would demand some complicated intimate grooming.

Citius Mag, which focuses on running news, posted a photo of the uniforms on Instagram, and many of its followers were not amused.

“What man designed the woman’s cut?” wrote one.

“I hope U.S.A.T.F. is paying for the bikini waxes,” wrote another. So went most of the more than 1,900 comments.

The running comedian Laura Green posted an Instagram reel in which she pretended to be trying on the look (“We’re feeling pretty, um, breezy,” she said) and checking out the rest of the athlete’s kit bag, which turned out to include hair spray, lip gloss and a “hysterectomy kit,” so the women would not have to worry about periods.

When asked, Nike did not address the brouhaha directly, but according to John Hoke, the chief innovation officer, the woman’s bodysuit and the man’s shorts and top are only two of the options Nike will have for its Olympic runners. There are “nearly 50 unique pieces across men’s and women’s and a dozen competition styles fine-tuned for specific events,” Mr. Hoke said.

Sha’Carri Richardson

Women will be able to opt for compression shorts, a crop top or tank and a bodysuit with shorts rather than bikini bottoms. The full slate of looks was not on hand in Paris but more will be revealed next week at the U.S. Olympic Committee media summit in New York. The Paris reveal was meant to be a teaser.

Anna Cockrell.Credit...Dominique Maitre/WWD, via Getty Images

Mr. Hoke also pointed out that Nike consults with a large number of athletes at every stage of the uniform design. Its track and field roster includes Sha’Carri Richardson, who happened to be wearing the compression shorts during the Paris presentation, and Athing Mu. And there are certainly runners who like the high-cut brief. (The British Olympic sprinter Dina Asher-Smith, another Nike athlete, told The New York Times last summer that while she opts to run in briefs, she also leans toward a leotard style, rather than a two-piece.)

What Nike missed, however, was that in choosing those two looks as the primary preview for Team U.S.A., rather than, say, the matching shorts and tanks that will be also available, it shored up a longstanding inequity in sports — one that puts the body of a female athlete on display in a way it does not for the male athlete.

“Why are we presenting this sexualized outfit as the standard of excellence?” said Lauren Fleshman, a U.S. national champion distance runner and the author of “Good for a Girl.” “In part because we think that’s what nets us the most financial gain from sponsors or NIL opportunities, most of which are handed out by powerful men or people looking at it through a male gaze. But women are breaking records with ratings in sports where you don’t have to wear essentially a bathing suit to perform.”

The problem such imagery creates is twofold. When Nike chose to reveal the high-cut bodysuit as the first Olympics outfit, purposefully or not, the implication for anyone watching is that “this is what excellence looks like,” Ms. Fleshman said.

That perception filters down to young athletes and becomes the model girls think they have to adopt, often at a developmental stage when their relationships with their bodies are particularly fraught.

And more broadly, given the current political debate around adjudicating women’s bodies, it reinforces the idea that they are public property.

Still, Ms. Fleshman said, “I’m glad Nike put this image out as the crown jewel of Olympic Team design,” because it may act as the catalyst for another conversation that has been long overdue.

“If you showed this outfit to someone from the W.N.B.A. or women’s soccer, they would laugh in your face,” she said. “We shouldn’t have to normalize it for track and field anymore. Time’s up on that.”

#Nike #Team U.S.A.#Track and field #Nike Air #Paris #They couldn't even give women short shorts?#Nike has a chance for a do over

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bluecollarmcandtf · 9 months

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Revenge at the Frat House

"On your knees!" I pointed my mind control ray at the Co-Presidents of the frat. Their eyes glazed over and their legs buckled to the floor. I knew these jocks were finally mine.

The Alpha Tau Beta house was a giant mess, but it was easy to find on Frat Row. I crossed the overgrown lawn nervously, carrying my science experiment up to the front door.

This fraternity was well known for being intolerant. They'd berated me countless times at the university, but these idiots had no idea who they were beating up. Sure, I'm gay, but I was studying neuroscience, and this device was my crowning achievement. Hunter and Josh were my first test subjects.

I didn't honestly think it would work so well. The two athletes dropped quickly to their knees when I commanded. Their eyes fluttered lazily as they wobbled on the hardwood. It definitely looked like they were ready to be reprogrammed.

"What's going on..." the blonde jock groaned.

Hunter was the school's basketball star. Everybody fawned over his perfect smile. Nearly every advertisement for the school had the guy on it, wearing a sleeveless jersey that showed off his impressive wingspan.

Now, his muscular arms dangle limply at his side, twitching occasionally.

"What's going on is revenge!" I cried, "Remember me? You led your pack of fraternity goons over and had them rough me up because I had a rainbow flag on."

"Oh yeah... " he replied dumbly.

"Well things are different now," I continued, "You won't target any gay dude again!"

"I won't..." he automatically agreed.

"It was crazy that you were ever such a homophobe. After all, you're gay yourself."

"I am...?" his blank face furrowed in confusion.

"Oh yeah," I pushed the suggestion further, "You love men. You're the gayest guy on campus. Nothing makes you happier than flirting with all dudes you can."

"I'm the gayest man on campus..." the fraternity jock agreed with a cheesy smile. He seemed happy to find a new calling in life.

I know he meant it. My device was designed to embed these suggestions into his mind, body, and personality. Hunter was a full-on fruitcake, now. It wouldn't be long before he was coming onto his fraternity brothers or getting an erection with his teammates in the shower. As far as he knew, he had always loved men, and he couldn't wait to flaunt his attraction loudly.

"And you," I turned to Josh.

The second frat bro was slumped onto the floor with his jaw hanging open. He looked half asleep with the drool hanging off his chin.

"Me..." Josh slurred.

This guy was on the wrestling team, and while he wasn't the leader of the bullies like Hunter, he was almost always the first to get physical. I still remember the feeling of his beefy arms around my neck as he taught me his lesson. Now it was my turn to teach him a lesson.

"Josh, you're not gay like your buddy, but you are a wimp," I explain.

"I'm a wimp...?" he mumbles deliriously.

"Yup! Sure, you're strong and athletic, but you're a total pushover."

"I'm a pushover..." he let the words sink in.

"Literally every male you come across will intimidate you. And anyone that intimidates you can boss you around. It doesn't matter if they're older, younger, weaker, or stronger. They get to use you as they want, but you don't mind. Your body is just a tool to be used."

"I'm a tool..." Josh agreed.

"In fact, your mouth is the most useful thing about you," I added, "I mean think about all the things you can use it for. If your bro's shoes are dirty, you can lick them clean for him. Maybe he's sweaty after a work out; just offer to suck the sweat out of his pits. Heck, maybe he's too lazy to walk to the bathroom; your mouth is perfect for that too. There are so many ways to put that face hole to use."

"My mouth is a tool..." his lips fumbled the words but there was conviction in his eyes.

Josh was fully convinced of his extremely submissive personality. He was already normalizing different situations in his head where another dude would use him as they wanted, and it felt completely natural.

"Alright, I'm going to wake you two up," I decided.

Thumping them on the forehead with my mind control device, I snapped the fraternity jocks out of their subconscious state.

"Woah," Hunter winced, "What's going on?"

The basketball star caught his bearings, noticing me as I stood over him. Hunter had never looked at me with anything other than animosity, but in that moment, he licked his lips and batted his eyes. I could tell he liked what he saw.

"Well, hello handsome," the stud purred as he checked me out.

Hunter rose from the ground and sidled up to me, planting his massive palms on my waist as he stared down into my eyes. I knew he was displaying his most charming smile.

"Anything I can do for you, daddy?" he snickered mischievously.

"I'm not interested, at the moment," I said.

"Playing hard to get?" Hunter scoffed in disappointment and turned away with a sigh, "Josh, get over here!"

The burly wrestler flinched as his buddy called to him. Josh was still on the floor, trying to make his bulky frame as small as possible in the presence of real men. He'd only been able to cast nervous glances at our shoes as we stood over him, but he quickly scurried over to Hunter when he was called.

"Come on," Hunter growled at Josh, "Let me show this guy what I can do with my tongue. I'll see if he isn't interested then!"

Hunter quickly grabbed the back of his fraternity brother's head and pulled him up into a slobbery kiss. Josh barely had time to react, but he wasn't in a position to pull away. The pair of homophobic jerks made out with each other, with Hunter moaning loudly and Josh trying to keep up.

I enjoyed the scene. Hopefully, the rest of the fraternity would be back from that party soon. I wanted to see them walk in on their Co-Presidents making out in the living room.

Now that I knew my technology worked, I was planning to convert the rest of the brothers. They needed to understand Hunter and Josh's new roles in the frat house.

Soon, they would all be bullying Hunter for how gay he'd become, and they'd be using Josh in any way that amused them. I'd definitely gotten the revenge I wanted.

#gay hypnosis #hypno story #mind control

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katebishopshands · 5 months

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But I’m a Cheerleader ! !

(Cheerleader!Kate Bishop/ Reader)

Pt. 1

»»-------------¤-------------««

Your team is good, you know it is. Yet, every year your team is a mere few points from winning the spirit stick at the end of your annual cheer camp.

You’re sure this is your teams year at camp. You and Yelena are captains this year and after a year full of successful competitions under your careful guidance, you’re sure anything is possible. That is until Kate Bishop walks through the gym doors.

Perfect as can be and cocky as hell, and the winner of the spirit stick for the last two years, the rival captain is the bane of your existence. Nothing, not even Kate Bishop will get in your way of that stick….unless?

(Not 18+…..YET)

»»-------------¤-------------««

Your ponytail was too tight, certain parts of your hair tugging on random places of your head. You took your hair down for what was probably the millionth time that morning and redid it. Eventually you ended up in the same spot you started with, a too tight ponytail pulling on your hair. Sighing, you gave up, instead choosing to focus on the spanx that seemed to be riding up your thighs as you stood in the too hot gym.

“Snap out of it!”, a slap to your bare shoulder made you jump, snapping the spandex on your thigh. Yelena smiled and laughed a bit at the look of concern on your face.

“Gotcha! But seriously cut it out”, the blonde dropped her smile into her regular resting face, which was scary enough. She could see the anxiety that you held in your shoulders. The way you fidgeted with your shorts, the way you bit your lip.

“I’m just worried we won’t get it this year” you crossed your arms frowning. For the last five years you had been on the team, not once had you been awarded the ever so coveted Spirit Stick. The stick was to go to the team that showed the morals of what cheer camp was supposed to be. The most spirited, dedicated,creative, and most improved over the course of the week. Initially, you weren’t upset. It was just some tradition that the camp did. That is until you noticed the same team got it year after year.

The Archers were your biggest competition. Coming from the same district you competed at all of the same competition, always coming in neck and neck with placements. You had been running circles around each other for years. And they never failed to get the Spirit Stick, ever.

“Natasha said we’re the best captains she’s seen in years, we’ve got this in the bag” Yelena was oozing with confidence. Blonde braid strewn over her shoulder, arms crossed showing off her biceps. She LOOKED Like a cheer captain.

“I don’t know if that counts Lena, she’s your sister. She HAS to be nice to you”

“That is not true! She said it as my coach…not as my sister” Yelena scoffs at you. You roll your eyes at her before turning around to converse with other team members.

Yelena getting the co captain spot with you was a topic of conversation in what you liked to call the “cheer verse”. Some teams were saying she only got the spot because Natasha is the coach and Yelena is her sister. But they couldn’t be more wrong. You had never met someone with a better work ethic than Yelena. She gave it her all, putting in overtime in the gym to perfect her tumbling, she was one of the strongest bases on the team. You had seen her throw herself on the ground to prevent her flyer from hitting the mat on multiple occasions. She deserved the role.

The conversations flowed freely as you bounced from group to group. More teams started filling in the room, each claiming a spot on the mat before the camp officially started. Some giant speaker blared music in the corner, effectively hyping up the crowd of cheerleaders. The noise level growing exponentially in the gym you stood in. A quick glance over the sea of athletes showed you one thing, The Archers had yet to arrive, and opening ceremony started at 12:30.

You double checked your phone for the time. The clock read 12:15. The team had 15 minutes to show. A surge of excitement coursed through your veins. The team not being in attendance this year meant you actually stood a chance at the spirit stick this year.

After monopolizing the spirit stick for so many years, The Archers had lived in your head rent free for way too long. Rumor had it they had a new captain this year, and part of you wished they sucked. It’d be so nice to watch the once great team crumble to nothing as yours did nothing but rise to the top.

A roar of clapping drags your from your revenge filled thoughts. You turn to face the entry way to the gym, struggling to see anything behind the sea of bows and ponytails that lie infront of you. You weave your way up to the front of the map where you’d have a clear view at the chaos. You manage to snag Yelena in the process, linking arms.

“What the hell is happening?” She looks at you before leaning forward to get a better look.

“Beats me, maybe we’re starting early??” You had five minutes to go, but it wasn’t completely out of the question.

Yelena makes a gagging sound followed by a disgusted “oh my god”.

“What! What’s happening!?” You ask frantically, wondering if maybe someone has already hurled and camp hadn’t even started yet. Yelena yanks your arm down, making you lean forward like her.

It doesn’t take you long to see why Yelena gagged. In the entry way of the gym, stood The Archers. The crowed cheered, the spirit stick being held confidently in the new captains hand. The stick had been decked out in their team colors, purple and black. Your eyes follow down the black nail polished hand and arm that held onto the spirit stick, eventually making eye contact with the holder.

Kate. Bishop.

She was your least favorite person on this planet.

She had joined The Archers at the same time you had joined your team. And ever since then it had been a constant competition between you two. You got your tuck? Kate got her round off tuck. Kate was point for jumps? Oh yours were now hyperextended and you were also center point. Wherever you went, you were both in the others orbit. She was perfect, even if you didn’t want to admit it. If only she wasn’t a cocky son of a bitch, you might admire her a bit.

So Kate Bishop was the new captain, of course she was. Of course she was captain the year you got to be captain.

“Kate Bishop…” Yelena sneers as Kate gives you both a smirk. You could’ve swore Yelena growled at her

Kates blue eyes linger on you a little longer than you would’ve expected. She lets her smirk drop a little into a facial expression you can’t quite put your finger on. You watch as her gaze is pulled from your form. America Chavez, another rival of yours, who you’ve collected from observing the team is the co captain with Kate, jumps the other girl, grabbing the spirit stick and eliciting another roar of cheers from the crowd.

Kate flashes America a dazzling smile and puts her arm around the other girl in a side hug. Their coach, and Coach Nats biggest rival, Clint Barton, shoves his captains aside as he gears the team towards a new spot on the mat. Kate turns her head back in your direction as she follows Barton’s lead, her black ponytail swinging in tandem. She catches your eye again, resulting in you crossing her arms and raising and eyebrow at her. She smiles and bites her lip a little before sending a wink your way.

You stomach drops. Feeling as if you drank TV static. What the fuck. You swallow the spit in your mouth nervously as Kate continues to follow her team. Suddenly your tongue felt too heavy in your mouth and your palms were clammier than you remembered.

“Fuck them, seriously, fuck them” Yelena mutters as she walks back towards Coach Nat at the back of the mat.

“I hate them so much” you join in on the menagerie of negativity in an attempt to push down your weird feelings about Kates wink.

“I swear I want to crush their little skulls into this mat..” Yelena cracks her knuckles to punctuate her feelings. You put your hand on her shoulder, making her look at you face to face.

“I promise. This year is our year. Nothing..and I mean nothing, not even Kate Bishop’s perfect ass can keep us from wining that spirit stick”

»»-------------¤-------------««

“On the doors are your names, please move your junk into your dorms. We’ve got dinner in 30 so make it quick” Natasha stands at the end of the hallway, arms crossed. You groan, and begin dragging your luggage down the dimly lit hallway, searching for your name.

Eventually you found it at the halfway point of the hall. Your name was written on a little megaphone ins sparkly letters, cute.

Taking your key off your neck you unlock your door. The dorm smelled musty, a fine layer of dust piling on the windowsill. Clearly the room had not been cleaned since the sad freshman moved out at the end of the spring semester. It felt like cheer camp.

The doorknob on the left side of the room jiggles, eventually busting open. Yelena falls through it, a big smile plastered on her face.

“Look! We’re neighbors!”

Part of you was sad that you guys weren’t sharing a room, but the other part of you was incredibly grateful. Yelena lived in a constant state of tornado. All of her belongings strewn across the room. Being captain had some perks, such as a single room. Sharing a bathroom for a week with Yelena was doable, but a room might kill you.

You give a smile back to her before gonna to poke your head out of the door that you had left propped open. Another team on the other side of you had begun to move their things in. So you were the bookend of your own team, great. This was a perfect way to make sure everyone was in bed during lights out and doing what they were supposed to be doing. Being well rested and punctual was crucial to your teams success at camp this year.

As you observed the excited girls giggling as they moved in to their new homes for the week, your vision was blocked. Blue eyes and full dark brows crowed your eyesight.

“Oh..hi” you knew the voice. You knew it too well. Kate Bishop was standing a mere few inches away from your face.

“Hello..” you clenched to your jaw. Staring at her stupid perfect face. Beauty marks scattered across it, full lips and lashes. You could’ve gone the entire week without hearing her voice, but of course you literally almost bump heads with her in the first hour.

“Looks like we’re neighbors…” Kate’s arms are crossed. She stands defensively opposite of you.

“I guess so”

She glances you up and down again. And once again that static fuzz feeling fills your gut. Goosebumps prick up on your exposed arms and you feel your cheeks flush a bit.

“Just…try not to be too loud at night..I want to get good sleep this week. Be on top of my game” you break the silence with an awkward blurt. She chuckles a little bit and leans toward you a little. You had never been this close to her. She smelled nice. Like lavender and chai with a hint of her deodorant. Probably some expensive perfume she has.

“I’ll try my best. But honestly..” her eyes make contact with your lips before she looks back up at you,

“I even think at the top of your game, you and your team still won’t win the spirit stick this year..” she chuckles a little bit. The snarky remark you wanted to make dies in your throat. Your fingers making contact with your lips, where Kate was just looking.

America calls for Kate down the hall.

“Coming!!” Kate stands up to her full height and genuinely smiles at you before turning on her heels and making her way towards America. But not before she sent another wink in your direction.

She left you standing in the hallway, blood boiling, hands clenched into fists at your sides and that tv static in your gut. If this was a cartoon, steam would be shooting out of your ears.

You were going to pummel Kate Bishops perky ponytail into the ground and rip the spirit stick out of her cold dead hands….or at-least, you hoped you could..

»»-------------¤-------------««

Omg hi guys!! I thought I’d try something new for this piece?? It’s for sure gonna be multiple parts and I promise you it’s gonna get HOT real soon. So stay tuned, this was just an introduction to the cheerverse

-ET🏹

#hawkeye series #hawkeye show #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #marvel #mcu #kate bishop hawkeye #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop fic #kate bishop mcu #kate bishop au #kate bishop x y/n #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #hawkeye #marvel fandom #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop smut

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kannra21 · 5 months

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Bc I "love" (lol) Gege so much, I gathered some info on him. Pls DM me to add more if you remember anything

Pen name: Akutami Gege (芥見下々)

Birthday: 26th February 1992 (31yo)

Zodiac: Pisces

Born: Iwate Prefecture, Japan

he went to all boy's private school

Akutami has an older brother who's married. Yuji is strongly inspired by his brother who is Akutami's opposite. He is someone who succeeds in everything he undertakes: sports, studies etc.

he was never really interested in drawing or manga until 4th grade when his older brother bought Weekly Shōnen Jump. The Jump that he read had Bleach on it and that's how Akutami's love for Bleach developed. When he was in the 5th grade and moved from Iwate Prefecture to Sendai in Miyagi Prefecture, he was surprised to see that the kids at his new school drew manga

he started drawing manga by imitating his friends' work

so his Bleach obsession started in elementary school and his Evangelion and Hunter x Hunter obsession started in middle school

he wrote a poetry analogy called "Giant From The Clouds" in middle school, inspired by the Bleach mangaka

His previous works are Kamishiro Sōsa, No.9, Nikai Bongai Barabarjura and jjk 0

Yuji was named after his childhood classmate

Geto was named after the "Geto Korean Ski Resort", located near Akutami's hometown of Tohoku

he's slightly colorblind

he's a fan of occult, mystical practices and horror

he wears glasses

he cooks somewhat

he loves hot springs and scalp massages, he goes to dermatologist to maintain healthy skin

he exercises and he's trying to get in shape despite the busy schedule, workout is not as painful as it is boring

he's very grateful for his chiropractor bc of his stiff neck, he said that if he ever time-travels and meets his younger self he's gonna tell him "get in shape, seriously", he craves afternoon naps but tries to resist by eating sweets like Pikmin gummies (why's he so contradictory haha)

when Nakamura first debuted with the jjk cast and got to meet Gege, he was surprised by how young he looked. He also said that Gege has a calming voice

hobbies: he reads a bunch of novels and watches a bunch of movies whenever he can, he's busy with work most of the time

his favorite food is crispy thai pandan chicken

his favorite onigiri flavor is mentaiko, he loves Umaibo snacks, Schau Essen, potatoes, hayashi rice, ramen and seedless grapes

He's usually not a fan of name brands but he likes Balenciaga. He also wants to support Royal Host restaurant

he likes comedy podcasts like Arabikidan group

the first manga he submitted to Jump was a gag manga

when he was a student he found studying boring but he likes doing research on things that actually interest him (like engineering facts he needed for the manga)

when he was an art student, he didn't really like making drawings where the model stayed for hours in a specific pose. He preferred to sketch in 3-4 minutes

he relies too much on sketches, rough drafts and his editors (he says he's like a dog for the editors)

he has a habit of forgetting how to draw his characters sometimes

he's self-deprecating and he's sorry that he sometimes makes people feel awkward by being overly critical of himself *hugs him*

he finds it difficult to write Yuji bc Yuji and Akutami are fairly different, Akutami doesn't consider himself particularly athletic but he can relate to Yuji for being an "airhead" sometimes and does things when people tell him not to

he thinks he's clumsy and fucks up honorifics sometimes, he talks casually with his editor Yamanaka whom he has a beef with till this day, he reminds him to "respect his elders" (he's so Gojo coded lol)

He's so funny asdfghjhgfd

he's in good relationship with his parents, he respects them and they're very supportive of him

he cares about his mom's opinion on his manga

Toji's and Yuta's personalities are somewhat based on Akutami's dad, dad also reads the manga

according to Gege, jjk should've been a lot darker but editor didn't allow it

he's an otaku, he's a fan of Marvel, has Hunter x Hunter posters on the wall and enjoys Pokémon wii games, he collected Yu-Gi-Oh cards when he was younger, he's from the generation when Gintama was popular

He never felt hatred for Thanos from Avengers: Endgame (explains why he likes Sukuna so much lol)

his favorite Haikyuu character is Tendo and his favorite BNHA characters are Overhaul and Stain

he saw Brad Pitt in person wow

Idea for the pen name: Gege worked a part time job at the cleaners and learned what it's like to be humble in the world. "Gege" translates to a "person of lower status" or a "commoner"

he claims to be socially awkward with people he's not familiar with, he's not used to public speech but when he gets drunk he does a 180 and is blabbering a lot

people call him a genius with a great sense of humor, his editor Katayama says that he's a cheery and a cool person, much like Gojo

he bought a black mountain parka (like Gojo's) that's supposed to last for six years but he put it in storage after one week

he thought about dying his hair white (Gege stop with the Gojo cosplay)

he's a procrastinator, he's mentally preparing for hours to draw a manga chapter that would otherwise take him 30min. The truth is, he's getting tired of jjk and can't wait to finish it

he chose the cyclop cat avatar because drawing one eye is easier and no one hates cats

he said that he used to have a "type of girl" in high school but the more he grew up he realized that every woman is a good woman, he likes well-groomed women (although I think he likes girls with thick tights? he's a Hwasa fan)

he thinks that world can't be divided into black and white and that it's always a blur. Villains and heroes are treated the same because each of them have their own beliefs and ideologies that are valid

he isn't emotionally bound to any of his characters, he will kill whoever, as long as the story is interesting

he's deliberately not trying to sexualize his female characters, not just because of his parents, but also because he wants to leave a respectable impression. Mangaka profession is very looked down upon. He wants to change that

his net worth is somewhere around $12 million

he wants to stay anonymous bc he enjoys his commoner life, there's a certain freedom to being a normal person, he can go in public spaces without anyone recognizing his face. For instance: he secretly went watching the jjk 0 movie in theater along with the opening comments on the first day. A fan accidentally met him but he pretended to be a staff member

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asolareclipses · 1 month

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Nico knew that canoeing was a bad idea, yet somehow he ended up in the middle of the sound once again. It of course was Wills idea. He and his love for athletic hobbies, Nico would preferred to watch a movie or stayed indoors. But here he was in a canoe.

It’s not like he hated canoes or anything, he wasn’t anti-canoe or whatever. It just happened that every time they rowed out onto this lake something went wrong.

The first time was when they had just started dating. Will had meticulously prepared and over the top date that made Nico feel like his bones were going to jump out of his skin. An image that frequently appeared in Nicos mind for some reason. Unfortunately the date was ruined when a swarm of bees decided to take interest in the honey and peanut butter sandwiches Will had made. They capsized in seconds.

Of course they decided to give it another shot, after Will promised no more honey. And everything was fine, at least it was until a giant statue of Apollo crashed into the water almost drowning the both of them. Looking back, it was definitely a sign for the chaos that followed Apollos arrival at camp.

Still, somehow, Will had managed to convince Nico that this time would be different. The word convince meaning he gave a smile to Nico and all of his stubbornness melted into a puddle of adoration. But of course Nico wasn’t going to admit that.

Instead with each row of the paddle he silently cursed himself for his disgusting obsession of his boyfriend. Each day he impressed himself with how much of a cliche he was. The moments when he’d see something and think Will would like that. Or when something like a yellow flower or particular glare from the sunlight reminded Nico of his smile, a grin that was slightly uneven but set loose butterflies in Nico’s stomach every time he had the pleasure of viewing it. Gods he was so gross. This was totally against his image. Cheesy guy head over heels for his boyfriend? Yeah, no. Those were not the vibes he was trying to emit. Still he never held himself back from his affection, he just didn’t let people see it. Or he thought he did.

When Nico looked up he was almost blasted out of the canoe by the most breathtaking sight. Will had been looking at him, an adoring half smile spread across his face. The sunlight reflecting ever so slightly from his eyes. His blonde hair fell recklessly in his eyes, rustling as a breeze passed by and his face was flushed slightly pink. Which Nico tried to convince himself was sunburn even when knowing how that wasn’t possible for a son of Apollo. Honestly, Will was effortlessly beautiful and he didn’t even realize it. From his freckles to his sun kissed skin he was perfect.

Will titled his head in curiosity as he watched Nico stare, “What?” He said as his smile grew bigger.

Nico heart did ten jumping jacks seven pushups and took a few laps in his chest. “N-Nothing.” Nico lied, the stutter being the selling point.

Will laughed, a sound that blessed Nico’s ears, it was like hearing liquid gold. “You’re cute.”

Nico tried his best to glare at Will, it turned more into a flustered glance. “Okay nightlight.”

“You’re turning red Nico,” Will smirked. He looked proud of himself, it was so attractive.

Now that inner comment caught Nico so off guard it almost made him audibly scream.

“Shut up please Solace,” Nico said. But he couldn’t hold back his smile. Revenge time, he thought. “You know…” Nico paused looking into Wills eyes for a moment too long. He’d long forgotten his paddle, dropping it to the side of the boat as he leaned forward to brush a strand of Wills golden hair from his face. “You might be cuter.”

A quick look of surprise danced across Wills face as the pink flush turned deeper. He blinked, and then blinked again before opening his mouth to speak and then closing it. It was a moment of speechlessness that Nico reveled in. But of course it didn’t last long.

Wills expression soon changed to delight as he smirked, “What about me do you think is cute?”

Nico’s smile dropped. He failed to realize that Will was the king of flirting and would somehow one up him each time. It was probably an Apollo kid thing. Dramatics, romance or whatnot. But Nico was determined to win so he said something cool like, “Um...”

Will giggled leaning forward, they were now extremely close and Nico was hyper aware of his breathing and well, everything else too. “Speechless huh?” Gods the look on his face was so attractive Nico wanted to tattoo it onto the back of his eyes. Woah, too far.

“N-no?” Another killer reply good one Nico, he thought. It took all of his willpower not to shrink into an embarrassed ball on the bottom of the canoe.

Will placed his hands on the sides of Nicos face, he too had forgotten the existence of his paddle. “How can I be cuter when you’re already the cutest?” He asked in a soft voice as his eyes sparkled like gems.

Nico tried to rack his brain for something to say but all he found was a puddle of thoughts. His mind had melted the second Will had touched him. His hands were so warm. He could feel the warmth spreading throughout his body turning him into incoherent mush. He was so in love with Will it was embarrassing.

“I win.” Will placed a peck on Nicos nose lightly.

Those words triggered Nico’s competitive side and he suddenly felt the unwavering need to win. His body moved before he could think as his hands moved to the back of Wills neck and he pulled him in for a kiss.

He could feel the surprise on Wills lips, then he felt the curve of a smile as Will kissed back. He was filled with a warmth that spread throughout his whole body. Nico thought about how impossibly soft Wills lips were as he ran his fingers through his hair. It took all of his mental strength to pull away, but as he did Will leaned forward as if he yearned for the kiss to continue. This pleased Nico more than he’d like to admit.

“No, I win.” He whispered brushing his thumb against Wills bottom lip.

Will stared at his lips then moved his eyes up to meet Nico’s. He stared for a minute, then a minute longer before a sly smile spread across his face. “You sure about that?” He said before rapidly kissing Nico all over, his forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, slowly moving down his neck.

Nico giggled, squirming but not making any effort to pull away.

Will paused for a moment keeping his lips close to the side of Nico’s neck, “Do you give up yet?” He whispered, knowing his breath would send chills down Nico’s spine. He could feel his words reverberating throughout his whole body.

Nico took a shaky breath, opening his mouth to speak but he was cut short by a realization, “It’s leaking.”

“Your heart?”

“No idiot the boat!” Nico tone was twinged with surprise as he pushed Will lightly.

Will looked down to see the puddle forming on the bottom of the canoe, “Oh..”

“Oh?!” Nico looked at Will in exasperation, instantly regretting coming out onto these Gods forsaken waters.

“Thats not good huh?”

“Duh! What do we do?!” Nico began to look for the paddles which had drifted a distance away, now bobbing peacefully in the soft waves.

“Great question babe.” Will looked around the canoe as if looking at it would magically fix it.

“Would be even greater if it had an answer,” Nico replied. He wondered if he was cursed when it came to water, it would make sense, Poseidon hated Hades after all . It was a short thought he had no time to linger on, but its briefness stung with a familiar pain.

“I think we have to abandon ship,” Will suddenly said.

“We what now?”

“Either we sink with it or escape while we still can,” He spoke as if he’d already made up his mind that this was the best option.

“Great.” Nico replied.

Will grabbed his hand as they both shakily stood up, careful not to capsize the canoe. Not that it would’ve mattered.

“In 3…2…1!” Will called out before they both plunged into the cold waters.

As Nico hit the water and the darkness washed over him, he realized he did in fact hate water. Well, not necessarily being on or near water, he hated being in it. It was cold and dark. Two things extremely prevalent in Nico’s life yet the combination that water brought reminded him of his deepest memories. He couldn’t drown in those right now, because he was too busy trying to actually not drown.

He floundered a bit at the surface, he was never good at swimming. He hadn’t actually learned until somewhat recently and he was a beginner at most. Will sensed Nico’s panic and he began to reach out so they could swim to the shore together. He could feel the nervousness start to dissipate as he looked at Will.

Then everything went dark.

Nico thought he had passed out, that was until he felt the salty water rushing into his mouth. This was when he realized he was being pulled down by something, or someone.

He looked down and in the darkness where he could barely make out a hand grabbing his ankle. He resisted the urge to scream, well more like he couldn’t scream as his lungs were quickly filling with water. He tried to regain his composure, realizing that if he didn’t he would drown. Slowly he forced his arms against the current as he reached for the arm, if he could just get it to let go. As soon as he grabbed the creature he knew immediately it was a spirit, a spirit which promptly turned its head revealing several rows of sharp teeth. Then in a split second a searing pain rolled up Nico’s arm, it bit him. The dark water turned a tinge of red, spiraling out in swirls and eerie patterns.

Nico almost let go. But he wasn’t going to let a spirit be what killed him, he hadn’t earned the title Ghost King for nothing.

As Nico lungs screamed for air he ignored the pain and gathered the rest of his energy, still gripping the spirits arm he willed the spirit to dissipate. Suddenly he was no longer being pulled down, but that also meant he had to now swim back up.

Fear filled his body like the water in his lungs. It was so dark. It was so cold. He was going to drown.

Then he saw a splash of light, a yellow glow from above him as a hand reached out. He grasped at the hand, feeling the familiar warmth pull him towards the surface.

He came up coughing and gasping for air as Will desperately tried to keep them both above the water.

“Oh my gods- Nico what was- that,” Wills voice was mixed between splashes.

Nico couldn’t answer as he was too busy trying not to choke to death. He thought they would never make it to shore but soon Will was pulling him out of the water.

“It’s okay, just breathe.” Will said putting his hand on Nico chest, he felt his lungs expand as his breathing became clearer.

“Gee, wish I’d thought of that.” Nico replied still hanging on to his sarcasm despite almost dying seconds ago.

“Are you okay? I- What happened - You- Oh gods Nico your arm,” Will stuttered before his face filled with concern.

Nico had forgotten about that, he was almost shocked to see the wound was much worse than he initially thought it was. Instead of a small bite it was a bunch of large gashes cut deeply in his skin. It was like a shark with knife’s for teeth had bitten him.

“Dam,” Nico said as the blood dripped from his arm making staining the sand with a dark red color.

“Infirmary now.” Will said grabbing Nico by the not chewed up arm. His tone was urgent and so was the look of concern, which was probably better described as pain, that was splashed across his face.

They were halfway there when Nico stumbled, almost losing his balance as a wave of dizziness hit him like a semi truck.

Will reacted quickly slinging Nicos arm around him and holding his waist as he carried most of his weight. Nico didn’t know if it was a result of the blood loss, the use of his powers, or the almost drowning. Probably a combination of all. But he couldn’t focus, the world was blurring together as he thought about the darkness of the water. He could see the image imprinted in his mind of Wills hand, glowing, reaching towards him to save him. Will literally and figuratively pulled him out of the darkness. Turns out a near death experience makes Nico feel really poetic. Or maybe he was just delirious.

They reached the infirmary, Will rushing to grab bandages and nectar as soon as he sat Nico down. His whole arm was drenched in blood now, he had been sure the cut wasn’t that serious. The nectar stung his skin as the bleeding stopped. Nico felt a rush a strength before his mind cleared and the blurriness faded.

Will looked at him with a subtle fear in his eyes, not against Nico but for him. “What did this?”

“I don’t know,” Nico replied as his eyes moved over the cuts. “A water spirit maybe? Something like that. I didn’t see its face, it was too dark.”

Will sighed, “I should’ve known we were too far from the barrier. Of course the water would be more prone to monsters.” He scolded himself in frustration as if he were somehow to blame.

“It’s not your fault Will, neither of us expected that to happen.” Nico said softly as Will delicately wrapped the bandage around his arm. Usually the way his hand would move in expertise as if bandaging was an art mesmerized him.

But now his hands slightly shook, “I shouldn’t have made you come out onto the water with me. You were right, it always goes wrong. But instead of listening I made you do it anyways.”

Nico grabbed Wills hand and looked up at him, an expression of reassurance across his face. “You didn’t make me do anything.”

“I know but-“

“But nothing,” Nico cut in. “I chose to go with you because I wanted to. End of story.”

Will sighed. He brought his head down resting it on their hands.

“I’m okay,” Nico softly spoke, “and you’re okay.”

Will nodded looking up at Nico, his eyes slightly shining. Whenever Nico would get hurt Will would always look like he was in pain too. Whether it was something big or small. Will seemed to feel it twice as hard. It was as if seeing Nico in pain was the worst thing physically possible for Will. Nico felt guilty for always being in pain.

A breeze from the infirmary air conditioning blew past, and Nico shivered. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until now. Will was soaked himself but still he rushed to grab a towel, draping it over Nico’s shoulders.

“I’ll grab clothes, you need to change before you catch a cold.”

“You too.” Nico said as Will was opening the door.

“Right.” Will replied almost as if he hadn’t thought about that.

When Will left Nico was met with a sense of silence. The infirmary was empty. Rare, but it made sense as it was nearing spring and most campers were at school or doing whatever non-summer campers did.

In the silence, Nico thought about being dragged into the depths. The tugging sensation had been so familiar to the one he’d felt many years ago. That same darkness as he was dragged deeper and deeper down somewhere he’d never wanted to go. The feeling had been so identical it made him sick. But this time he had Will to pull him up. Will who lost all self preservation when it came to Nico. Will who cared so much about Nico that it scared them both. He didn’t want Will to drown in his thoughts like he had, he wanted to be his light, to pull him from the darkness too.

A drop of water fell from his hair and hit the ground, just as the door opened and Will rushed in. He hurriedly told Nico to change and Nico made sure to remind him to do the same.

Finally being in dry clothes brought a pleasant warmth throughout his body. But his hair was still dripping wet, chilling his neck as each drop made its way down his face. He noticed that somehow Wills hair had mostly dried already, another mysterious Apollo thing, Nico assumed.

Another drop of water fell from Nico’s hair and hit the ground.

Will noticed and frowned, putting a towel on Nico’s head, he stood while Nico was sitting on the infirmary bed. Will ruffled the towel, making a mess of Nico’s already unruly hair.

After a moment he stepped back and asked, “Is that better?”

Nico shook his head.

Will scrunched his brows in confusion before Nico suddenly wrapped his arms around Wills waist, pulling him closer.

“That’s better,” Nico said. His voice muffled as he buried his head in Wills shirt.

He could almost hear Wills smile as he leaned into the hug, they both shared the warmth of that moment for what seemed that forever.

Nico wanted Will to feel warm too. He wanted to be a light for him. Whatever darkness or pain Will had, Nico wanted to erase it all. Maybe he couldn’t do that. But he could be here, in this moment, so that’s what he did.

After a moment he moved back, looking up at Will. It was a breathtaking sight to say the least. The way Will looked down at him with a warm smile. It was like looking directly into the sun except Nico couldn’t look away. His eyes danced like diamonds and Nico realized what it felt like to be truly loved.

“I love you Solace.”

“I love you too.”

That day Nico thought that maybe canoeing wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

The new scars on his arm may disagree.

#solangelo #nico di angelo #nico x will #canoe #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #will solace #nicos definitely got bad luck in water #what’s a cute story without someone almost dying?#fluff #i can’t stop thinking about them help #pjo #tsats #the sun and the star #trials of apollo #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #nico/will #warning: blood

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primaviva · 6 months

Text

TRUTH OR DARE

PAIRING: ghostface!gwen stacy x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: paranoia and the creeping feeling that someone is watching you have been happening ever since the start of the school year once you got together with your boyfriend, randy robertson. but when he gets murdered and queens starts an uproar over this secret ghost killer, you get a call at night from a stranger in the middle of the night, and they wanna play a game. truth or dare?

NOTES: scream au! violent descriptions (nothing too much just with the use of ghostface it’s expected), reader experiencing comphet, major jealousy and heavy flirting, stalking, obsessive!gwen, nothing too much. nickname “good girl” mentioned once but in a taunting way not no bdsm type way we don’t do that here. HEAVY MAKEOUT. enjoy??

the black cloak and white mask seemed to be everywhere, a constant presence that infiltrated every corner of your world.

it dominated the media— from news broadcasts to social media feeds, newspapers, and even the e!news tabloids. the images from those fateful nights were plastered in front of your eyes repeatedly, each time reopening the wounds and forcing you to relive the heart-wrenching moments.

it all began at a costume party hosted by the notorious playboy, harry osborn, in anticipation of halloween. autumn held a special place in your heart, particularly as it transitioned into the eerie and enchanting season of october. tim burton's movies, with their dark whimsy, were a particular favorite of yours. that's why you convinced your boyfriend, randy, to dress as victor and emily from the corpse bride.

randy was a tall, somewhat dorky guy hailing from a loving african american household. while he had a reputation as an athletic football player, his true passion lay in writing, more specifically the realm of journalism. he seemed like the perfect match for you, and yet, there was an indescribable hesitation lingering in your heart. it wasn't that he wasn't right for you or vice versa, but really a blend of uncertainty and fear. perhaps it stemmed from him being the first guy to actively pursue and ask you out, leaving you unsure of what lay ahead. or maybe you were just grappling with the question of whether he actually fit your ideal type. it was a feeling you couldn’t explain in words.

the corpse bride held a special place in your heart, beyond the fall season. however, it did turn you off how much convincing it took to get randy on board with the idea of matching halloween outfits. after all, it was just a couple's costume. so what was his problem?

the night began on a high note as you arrived at the party with randy. the vibrant lights bathed the room in ever-changing colors. people danced and swayed to the infectious rhythm of the music, while others indulged in halloween-themed snacks and drinks in the corners.

you spotted your friends and decided to join them, breaking away from randy to spend time with his own friends. or so you thought. randy never struck you as the cheating type. with his gentle giant demeanor, he seemed like the perfect match for you— kind, considerate, and driven, basically all the qualities a girl should want in a guy.

but then, everything came crashing down when you caught sight of him in a corner, locked in a passionate kiss with sally avril. at that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl before abruptly hurtling forward.

“what the hell? this whole time you were acting like you wanted to be with me but instead you’re messing around with the bootleg avril lavigne?” you shouted, the words erupting from your lips.

your eyes locked with hers as she stared at you in disbelief. the look you had only intensified as you saw her weakly hide behind him. you didn’t care if you were disrespectful, that was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

randy's gaze was fixed on you, fear and guilt circling within his eyes as you turned to him. “you are the most trifling man i have ever met. if you felt this way, why not end it? but no, you wanna act like a little bitch and make me come dressed with you just to embarrass me. never let me see your face again,” you declared.

angry that a friend of yours who knew he was taken decided to kiss him anyway. angry that your ex boyfriend couldn’t just do the bare minimum out of respect and tell you the truth, instead being sneaky behind your back. angry that you felt embarrassed and like an idiot for even believing something like this would work out.

as tears welled up in your eyes, you turned away, walking off in a haze of hatred. your friends tried to console you, practically begging for you to stay, but you needed to be alone to process the overwhelming pain. seeking solace, you found yourself outside, rain pouring down, mirroring just how you felt. the raindrops traced a path from your head down to the curve of your nose, mingling with the wet fabric of your dress. in that moment, all you desired was to be alone in the dark with your thoughts, away from the prying eyes of friends, and just calm down.

ironic how you were dressed as emily, considering you felt like the other woman.

it was when you were lost in your thoughts that you heard a a piercing scream reverberating through the house, jolting you from your previous assumptions that it was all part of a macabre party activity. your body tensed, and you swiftly turned towards the entrance, witnessing a wave of terrified people streaming out in panic.

driven by curiosity and a growing sense of unease, you stepped forward, determined to unravel the mystery unfolding before you. as you made your way inside, the scene that greeted you was far from anything you could have anticipated.

the grand staircase, once an elegant display of cream-colored opulence, now bore a twisted transformation. its steps were drenched in a vivid, saturated red, creating an otherworldly and macabre sight that churned your stomach. blood cascaded down in a haphazard and unsettling manner, leading your gaze to the source of the horror.

there, at the bottom of the staircase, lay randy, with a broken neck.

his friend, chad, had turned him over, revealing a sight that sent shivers down your spine. it was evident that randy had suffered a fatal blow to his chest, inflicted by a shard of glass or some other jagged object.

initially, you thought it was just a tragic accident, but deep down, you knew better. you had witnessed the fear and confusion etched in randy's eyes while his body laid limp on the floor. it was clear to you that someone or something had ruthlessly taken his life.

the night wore on as the police conducted their investigation, and you found yourself subjected to interviews, polygraphs, and everything else demanded of you to piece together the events that unfolded.

you still don’t know what happened that night. the weight of remorse for randy's tragic fate bears heavily upon your heart, not in the personal sense of romantic love, but in the recognition that no one deserves to meet such a brutal end. the haunting image of his final moments, consumed by fear and confusion, you couldn’t help but feel guilty.

it engulfs you in sleeplessness, much like tonight. the continuous string of events and criminal activities associated with this enigmatic apparition has caused an overwhelming amount of stress, making it impossible for you to find solace and rest during the night.

frustrated, you let out a sigh and forcefully throw off your covers, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. with a gentle unplug from the charger, you notice that it has sufficient battery to allow you to use it comfortably while lying down.

unlocking your phone with your password, you open tiktok, perhaps the least advisable app to open if you intended to sleep. however, acknowledging the chances of you falling asleep anytime soon, you decide to indulge in it anyway.

as you glance at the corner of your phone, you notice the time reads 11:30. you make a promise to yourself to scroll for just a few minutes before attempting to sleep again.

and so, time passes by, more than just a couple of minutes. suddenly, a ringing sound interrupts your tiktok video, and a notification pops up at the top of your screen, automatically muting the video. the incoming call displays as "no caller id," causing you to dismiss it, unwilling to immediately hang up in case it's a scammer testing the validity of your phone number.

returning to your scrolling, the number calls again. it becomes clear that it's an actual person trying to reach you. annoyed, you press the red button, rejecting the call. almost immediately, your phone starts ringing again, persistently calling you.

clicking your tongue in irritation, you sit up in bed and examine the unknown caller id.

why do they keep calling?

"fuck it," you groan, deciding to answer the call. "hello?"

a profound silence ensues, only accompanied by the faint background noise resembling a gentle breeze.

"hello, (y/n)," the voice on the other end utters.

it lacks a natural quality, instead exuding a cold and detached demeanor, yet with a tinge of arrogance.

"how do you know my name? who the hell is this?" you demand, seeking answers.

the fact that this person knows your name, especially at this late hour, immediately sends chills down your spine.

a deep, dark chuckle emanates from the voice before it speaks again. "wanna play a little game?" the voice asks.

you sigh in irritation. "i asked you a question, who are you?"

silence lingers on the other end of the line before the voice breaks it once more. "don't you want to play? it’ll be fun, i promise," the voice adds, its tone dripping with a smirk.

despite your initial inclination to hang up and leave this peculiar individual to their own devices, there was something about them that piqued your curiosity. the voice carried a feminine quality, although it was difficult to discern due to its thick, apathetic tone. beneath the eerie and disconnected facade, there seemed to be a hint of something more in the way they conversed with you. it was as if they genuinely wanted to engage in conversation.

you scoffed, rising from your bed and catching a glimpse of the night sky. "fine, i'll play. what game?"

you could hear the voice on the other end eagerly patting their thigh in excitement. "good girl, i like them feisty. how about a nice game of truth or dare?" the voice suggested, its eagerness palpable.

feeling a hint of nervousness at being referred to as "good girl," you cautiously responded, "truth or dare? okay. what are the rules?" the sinister yet mysterious aura still sent shivers down your spine.

the voice cleared their throat, adopting a more official tone as they explained the rules of the game. "well, you see, the rules are simple. each player chooses either truth or dare. the chosen option determines what the other player does. truth means you'll be asked a question, while dare means you must perform a task." after a brief pause, the voice continued, "the first player is you. which are you going to choose, truth or dare?"

slowly pacing around the room, you pondered your response but ultimately decided to play it safe. "um, truth," you mumbled into the phone.

"okay then, beautiful. what's your favorite color?" the voice inquired.

you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the simplicity of the question.

"what, did i say something funny?" they whispered through the microphone, clearly perplexed.

"no, no. it's just... for a creepy stranger calling me at night, that was the most ordinary question you could have asked," you explained, a few giggles escaping your lips as you spoke.

although you couldn't see it, you could almost imagine the person on the other end of the line smirking. "what do you expect when you receive a creepy call at midnight from a creepy stranger who knows your name and starts a creepy game of truth or dare with you?" they retorted, their sense of humor evident.

you laughed at their wit and couldn't help but feel a sense of strangeness in going along with all of this.

"what do you want?" you asked once more, silently hoping for a genuine answer.

"what i always desire," they stated nonchalantly, causing a shudder to run down your spine as their voice suddenly adopted a tender tone. "you, of course."

"w-what?" you mouthed, barely managing to whisper the words.

you found yourself utterly bewildered by their statement, but before you could dwell on it, the voice swiftly redirected your attention.

"i think i asked you a question. what's your favorite color?"

"it's (f/c). i practically wear it all the time, or at least whenever i have an excuse to. i even buy things in that color," you rambled, attempting to clarify. "but it's not like an obsession or anything."

"i know all about obsession," the voice responded darkly, taking an unsettling turn for a moment. "i bet it looks stunning on you. not that i would know, right?"

a blush crept up your cheeks at the compliments and endearing terms. it had been a while since you had received such attention. yet, even in those instances, it didn't evoke the same spark as it did now. the nervousness it stirred within you felt oddly exhilarating, unlike anything you had experienced from your boyfriend or the other guys at school.

"okay, i guess it's my turn now. so, truth or dare?" you ask the mysterious figure.

they let out a slight chuckle. "truth or dare, huh? i think i'll go with the truth."

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you sense their attempt to put you at ease.

"what's your favorite hobby? or, you know, your favorite thing to do, if you have one," you inquire.

there's a moment of silence on the other end as you patiently await their response. "drumming. i'm a drummer in a band, you know? i've heard girls like the title of being a rockstar's girlfriend," they reply.

you giggle at their comment. "the drummer's girlfriend, huh? isn't it a bit egotistical to call yourself a rockstar?"

"maybe it is, so what?" they retort, followed by a low, raspy chuckle.

another laugh escapes your lips. "that's actually really cool. i've heard that drumming takes a lot of skill and practice. and if you're in a band, then i'm sure you're pretty talented."

"you're... you're really interested in this kind of stuff?" they ask, their tone transitioning from confidence to astonishment. "nice to know a girl like you has good taste. i'm sure you'd love to feel the calluses on my fingertips," they tease.

you can't help but nervously giggle at the stranger's words, a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"now it's your turn," you remind them.

"well, truth or dare?" the voice asks.

"dare," you reply almost immediately.

you hear them let out a laugh from the other end, presumably in response to your eagerness. "bold, i like it," they comment. "i dare you to spin around in a circle until i say stop."

you tilt your head to the side, slightly perplexed by the dare. "are you serious?"

once again, their laughter fills the line. "come on and give me a show, ballerina."

letting out a sigh, you begin to spin around, unraveling into a fit of giggles. you can't deny that you wonder why they chose this particular dare, out of all the possibilities. but it serves as a distraction, and part of you is content with that.

"and stop," they command, and your feet come to a halt, your head lightly pounding from the spinning.

catching your breath, you resume speaking. "happy?" you ask, lacing your words with sarcasm.

"ecstatic," the ominous voice replies. "thanks for the view. as a former dancer, i'd give you a ten out of ten."

maybe it's the impending headache, but you could have sworn they thanked you for the view. which also means they could see you. but that's not possible, right?

"your turn, hurry up and pop the question," the voice commented, its impatience evident.

running out of questions and feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity, you blurted out, "do... do you like girls?"

silence greeted your question, and you mentally facepalmed at your awkwardness.

"oh," they whispered, seemingly taken aback. "i think you forgot to include the truth or dare part, babe."

your voice caught in your throat, leaving you speechless. you felt like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in fear.

"but i can't help it when i see a pretty girl like you so desperate for a response. i don't just like girls," the voice replied, a small snicker following. "i love them."

heat tingled behind your ears, spreading to your cheeks once more.

"how did you, um, know?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

"i haven't even told you i'm a girl yet, and you're already assuming. i'll take that as a compliment," they mumbled, their tone bordering on mockery. "i just know who i like."

silence fell once again, and you found yourself lost in your thoughts. this inexplicable feeling that washed over you was something you couldn't quite put into words.

"i'll let my curiosity guide me here, but when was the last time you had... intimate relations with someone?" the voice asked, waiting for your answer.

a dry laugh escaped your lips, shattering the silence of your room. "what, my ex-boyfriend? what are you trying to get at?"

"ever thought about having a girlfriend?" the voice asked, its tone now more aggressive and snide, seemingly triggered by the mention of your ex.

the mention of a girlfriend made your mouth go dry. there had always been a certain connection missing from your previous relationships, but you could never quite pinpoint what it was or whether it was something about you or them. the question caught you off guard, but before you could delve into it, the voice steered the conversation back to the game.

"truth or dare?" the ghostly voice asked.

"truth," you replied, this time with hesitance compared to the last.

"okay, truth is... what's your deepest, darkest fantasy? what's something you've always wanted to do?" the voice asks.

"deepest, darkest fantasy? wow, that's kind of corny," you scoffed. "um... it's not really dark, but... i don't know. sometimes i just want to run away and get away from everything. people can be so shitty sometimes, and you reach a point where you just can't deal with it anymore. i think i'm at that point. sorry, that's kind of embarrassing to share with a stranger." you lick your lips as you gather your thoughts. "anyway, truth or dare?"

you can hear the voice chuckle. "i like a woman who speaks her mind. talking to someone about your problems is always nice, especially when they can relate. i think that's a good fantasy, running away from your problems and starting fresh. can't say i haven't ever thought of it," they reply, their tone laced with empathy. "dare, all the way."

it's a little relieving to hear someone who can relate to you, even if they are a creepy stranger.

you come back from your thoughts. "i dare you to tell me your name."

the voice on the other end lets out a laugh as they think about your dare. "oh, alright, if you insist." their tone shifts to sound more flirtatious as they continue. "that's such a boring dare, though." they pause for a moment before speaking again. "my name is... well, you can call me ghostface." ghostface states, their tone a bit more arrogant as they introduce themselves.

"very funny," you scoff, not believing them. there's no way in your mind that you're flirting on the phone with a slasher in queens. "come on, who are you? are you just messing with me at this hour?"

you can hear the voice sounding annoyed by your response, their tone shifting away from flirtatious. "you think i don't have the guts after one conversation? you know what, forget it. i was trying to have some fun with this, but it's clear you don't appreciate it. let's start the game over." the voice pauses for a moment before speaking again. "truth or dare?" they ask, their tone serious now.

"what?" you question, the adrenaline threatening to surge through your veins from how abruptly uncomfortable it got. "truth..."

you can hear the voice sounding eager as you pick truth. "alright then. here's your truth. what are you wearing right now?" the voice asks, their tone sounding flirtatious again.

"my pajamas... why?" you ask, confused and weirded out as your heart begins to pound nervously.

you hear a low chuckle on the other end of the line.

"no reason. it's just hard to make out what you're wearing from here," ghostface taunts nonchalantly, a sinister edge in their voice.

"what the fuck?" you shout out, fear and anger coursing through you.

"well, it's time for the dare. here's your dare," the voice said, pausing for a moment. "i want you to look out your window. take a good look," ghostface spoke, their tone now commanding.

you were too shocked to respond, but you reluctantly moved the curtain aside and peered out the window, surveying the ground below. to your relief, everything appeared normal—nothing out of place or ominous.

"nothing..." you mumbled, your confusion growing.

ghostface chuckled on the other line. "open your window," the voice demanded.

your heart dropped, apprehension seizing you.

"what?" you asked, your confusion intensifying as you focused your gaze on the window.

ghostface's tone became more forceful. "i said, open your window," they commanded, their voice leaving no room for negotiation.

you didn't respond, feeling your breathing quicken over the phone as you grappled with the presence of this mysterious individual. you sensed their frustration as they let out a sigh and licked their lips.

"you know what, how about another round of truth or dare? it's my turn," the voice taunted.

you began to slowly back away towards your bed, your instincts urging you to distance yourself from this unsettling situation.

"truth or dare?" ghostface asked, their tone growing impatient.

but you didn't answer, the scary reality of the moment setting in. fear tightened its grip around your heart.

"truth or dare? don't make me say it again," ghostface insisted.

you remained silent, a mix of fear, defiance, and self-preservation guiding your actions.

"oh, what the hell. no more choices then, (y/n). i dare you to open your windo-" before ghostface could finish their sentence, you abruptly hung up the phone and swiftly pulled the curtain shut, blocking out any further interaction with the mysterious caller.

"(y/n)? c'mon, don't be a party pooper," ghostface said, their tone flirtatious once again as the line went silent. a few seconds later, you heard quiet shuffling behind you, causing your heart to pound with fear.

realizing that you needed to take action, you swiftly grabbed the chair from your desk and dragged it into the hallway outside your room. you closed the door and positioned the chair below the doorknob, creating an obstacle that would make it difficult for someone to open the door, though not impossible.

suddenly, your heart skipped a beat as the sound of glass shattering echoed from inside your room, followed by a loud thud hitting the floor. your adrenaline surged, and before you could react, the door handle began to jiggle violently. you heard the sounds of your belongings being knocked over, accompanied by a loud crashing noise as the entire door shook. the playful tone in ghostface's voice had vanished, replaced by a sinister and threatening tone.

backing away from the door, you clutched your phone tightly, fearing it might break between your trembling palms.

"leave me the fuck alone!" you yelled, your voice filled with desperation. "if you know what's best for you, you'll leave now."

a sinister chuckle came through the door as it shook violently. ghostface sounded excited, his tone now both menacing and playful. "no matter how hard you try to push me away, i'm not going anywhere, babe. so you might as well just... let me in. you don't want me to break this door down. please don't make me."

"i'm not doing a damn thing!" you yelled back, your voice quivering with a mix of anger and fear as you ran downstairs.

frantically reaching for the railing, you rushed down the stairs while simultaneously dialing 911. the operator answered with the familiar "911, what's your emergency?" prompt as you frantically explained your terrifying situation. you provided them with your address and informed them of the intruder's presence in your home.

suddenly, you heard a loud bang. "you know, the police might not get here in time to help you, (y/n)!" ghostface taunted, his words sending a chill down your spine. "who are you going to call for help? your dead boyfriend?"

as the woman on the other end of the line asked if you had a place to hide, time seemed to slow down, reminiscent of that dreadful night at the party. slowly, you turned your gaze upward from the floor below, your eyes fixated on your once-barricaded bedroom door.

"sorry about him, by the way. i tried to talk to him, i really did! didn't go too well," ghostface spoke, his voice laced with a disturbing mix of amusement and regret. "i guess all those muscles didn't help much."

ghostface had broken down the door, and your eyes darted towards the bathroom— the closest room you could hide in— as you shut the door behind you, hoping to buy yourself some time.

"he seemed like a decent guy for you, shame i had to carve him up like a pumpkin. no one really appreciates a good woman anymore. i probably did you a favor, taking the trash out, if you catch my drift," ghostface taunted, his tone oozing with cockiness and a disturbing familiarity with your personal life.

you could hear ghostface getting closer, their footsteps echoing on the wooden floor as they walked down the nearby stairs and stopped outside the door to the room you were hiding in. the sound of their footsteps sent shivers down your spine. "come out... come out... c'mon now. you have until i count to three," ghostface stated, their voice filled with malicious anticipation.

"one... two..."

the constant banging on doors, shaking of doorknobs, and rummaging through cabinets echoed through the house as ghostface searched for you. each sound made your heart skip a beat, and you held your breath, hoping to remain undetected. the heavy thud of ghostface's boots against the floor reverberated through the room before fading away, only to return again as they continued their relentless pursuit. it felt like an endless, torturous game, until suddenly, silence engulfed the house.

"i-i think they're gone," you whispered into the phone, relief tinged with uncertainty evident in your voice as you spoke to the operator.

"is there a nearby exit? anywhere you could run to?" the woman on the other end asked, her voice filled with concern.

you responded with a quiet "yes," knowing that your back door was just around the corner.

quietly, you opened the top cabinet in your bathroom and retrieved a pair of scissors, holding them tightly as a makeshift weapon. you pressed your ear against the bathroom door, straining to hear any signs of ghostface's presence. their footsteps had become distant, as if they had moved to another part of the house. slowly, you pushed the door open, cringing at the subtle creaking it made, and cautiously peeked out. taking a deep breath, you mustered the courage to get up and began walking toward the back door, your eyes fixed on it and the window view it provided. but as you approached, something caught your eye— a reflection.

"three."

you felt a powerful, gloved hand wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you tight against their chest. a scream escaped your lips, swiftly stifled by a hand covering your mouth. desperate to break free, you fought with all your strength, but ghostface's grip was unyielding. the more you wriggled and struck out, the tighter they held you, pressing you closer against them.

summoning courage, you ruthlessly stomped on their foot, causing them to lose their balance. their back collided with the wall, granting you a momentary advantage. seizing the opportunity, you lunged forward, brandishing the scissors, aiming to strike them in the shoulder.

however, just as you were about to make contact, another hand clamped around your wrist, its grip unrelenting. "don't try that with me," a voice hissed. ghostface's grip on your wrists tightened, sending a painful sting coursing through your veins. they forcefully redirected your hand away from them, forcing your arm downward until you had no choice but to surrender. struggling to maintain your hold on the scissors, your resistance faltered.

you released a pained moan as your arm throbbed with tenderness. the ominous figure in the black cloak forcefully pushed you against the counter, causing your hand to involuntarily open upon impact, and your phone slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor.

ghostface retrieved the phone, briefly glancing in your direction before focusing once again on the screen. "she's busy right now," they remarked coldly to the operator before hanging up.

with one hand, ghostface held the side of your tear-streaked face, while the other pressed the cold blade of the knife menacingly against your neck. fear coursed through your veins as you felt the sharp edge against your skin, the chilling reality of the situation sinking in.

"shhh now," ghostface commanded, their voice cutting through the air. their grip tightened, the blade digging dangerously into toward your flesh.

you sniffled, attempting to steady your racing heart. everything felt surreal, as if you had stepped into a distorted reality within the confines of your own home. the anticipation of impending chaos loomed, but the expected eruption never arrived. instead, an eerie silence settled over the scene, intensifying the disorientation.

a loud sob escaped your lips as you clung desperately to the edges of the counter, inadvertently cutting off circulation to your fingers. ghostface's hold tightened as they pulled back on the knife, the sharp blade now threateningly grazing your skin. their other hand covered your mouth, their grip unyielding. "just stay still. you don’t wanna do anything you might regret, right? now, say, 'i understand,'" ghostface uttered.

their gaze took in your terrified state as their grip gradually loosened and demeanor softened. ghostface's gloved hand tenderly wiped away a tear cascading down your flushed cheek.

"i-i understand,” repeating their words as your voice trembled.

their hands forcefully propelled you to the side, slamming you against the wall. through teary, half-lidded eyes, you gazed up at them as their imposing figure loomed over you.

their hand glided to the bottom of the ghostface mask, gripping the edge of the chin, and with a swift motion, they yanked it off and tossed it aside. cascading gracefully down to their shoulders was blonde hair, adorned with pink-dyed tips and one side partially shaved. their skin possessed an ethereal paleness, and their piercing blue eyes held a mysterious allure. a glint from the moonlight reflected off an eyebrow piercing, adding to their enigmatic visage.

and then it hit you. it was gwen stacy, your classmate.

the last person you would ever have expected. a smile played upon her lips, relishing in your bewildered expression. "gwen...?" you managed to utter, your voice barely a whisper. "-the hell?"

reaching into her cloak, gwen retrieved a voice changer box from her chest and raised it to her lips. "hello, (y/n). surprised?" she asked, a sly tilt to her smile.

"w-what..." you tried to speak, but the words eluded you.

"i know this is incredibly confusing and terrifying right now, but i promise i won't harm you," she assured, her thoughts seemingly racing.

gwen's smile grew, taking on a hint of obsession. "i've watched you for so long... you have no idea how much i've longed to be this close to you. you're such a beautiful girl," gwen confessed, her tone simultaneously tender and erratic. her hand still clutched the knife, and she tilted her head, regarding you with a disconcerting smile. the proximity between you two was impossible to ignore.

"please, just... just let me go, and we can forget all of this," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

gwen cocked her head to the side, furrowing her eyebrows. "why forget this? why would i want to forget a moment like this?" her gaze bore down upon you, her once vibrant blue eyes now tainted with a dark ink-like hue, consuming you with an unsettling hunger.

"why are you doing this, gwen?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling and breaking.

gwen shrugged, her shoulders slumping forward as if weakened by the mention of her own name. "fuck, i love the way you say it," she confessed, her tone laced with an unsettling fondness.

drawing closer, gwen closed the distance until your chests were pressed together. in a surprising turn of events, she flung the knife to the far side of the floor, the sound grating against your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"don't you get it?" she stated matter-of-factly. "i like you. you're the kindest girl in school. honest, pretty, genuine. did i mention pretty? every time we talked, whether it was a small conversation in class or when you defended others from dumb gossip, you always showed such kindness. who wouldn't be drawn to a girl like that? that's why i did it."

your heart felt as though it had been submerged in acid. on one hand, her words melted your heart, evoking emotions you had never experienced with any boy before. however, simultaneously, a sense of violation and terror gnawed at you.

"what... what did you do?" you cautiously inquired, your voice faltering.

gwen reached down and intertwined her hands with yours, their grip tightening. "i killed your boyfriend," she confessed.

your head lowered as you shakily swallowed, the weight of her words sinking in.

"he wasn't right for you, (y/n). who cheats on their girlfriend with their own friends and pretends to care about them? you don't deserve that. you deserve so much more. you deserve everything. he never bothered to remember your favorite hobbies, your preferred makeup style, or even how you write the number five. he failed to appreciate everything you've been through or know how to comfort you, to make you feel good, to be a good boyfriend. if i had you, i would never treat you that way. especially after harry's party," she explained, her voice unwavering. "that night, i was dressed as a ghost because it seemed ironic, considering i'm the invisible loser of the school, right? that's when i saw randy with that girl and you running out crying. no one has the right to make you cry like that, especially not quarterback randy. so i went to confront him, told him how messed up it was. he pushed me, called me just another weirdo obsessed with you. maybe he was right, but the way he spoke of you, the words he used? i couldn't let it slide, (y/n). out of anger, i just threw my glass at his chest, i didn’t expect it to kill him. but it did."

your mouth hung open in shock and fear. gwen's grip on your hands tightened as she raised them higher until they rested at the sides of your head. your mind felt as if it were splitting in two, and your vision blurred. the onslaught of overwhelming information threatened to induce nausea, leaving you reeling.

“and god, did it feel so fucking good to kill him. if you told me all i had to do was get into a fight with your sigma male boyfriend who’s best friend's name is literally chad, just to get noticed by you, i would’ve done if in a heartbeat months ago,” she shouted, beginning to pace.

her eyes were wide, and you could tell just by her talking about it she wa reliving the thrill of the moment.

"i... i don't understand," you stammered, desperately trying to free your hands from gwen's grasp. she watched your movements intently, her eyes locked onto yours. "gwen, you fucking killed someone. why would you do that? do you realize the consequences of your actions?"

on one hand, you were furious that she had taken a life, but on the other, a part of you was unnerved by the intensity of the love she professed for you. it was as if, for the first time, someone truly appreciated your mere existence. you despised how drawn you felt to her, despite the circumstances.

"i don't care about him. i did it for you. i killed for you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "what man can say that?"

conflicting emotions tugged at your heart. ultimately, you yearned to surrender control and experience her twisted version of affection.

"no one has ever spoken to me like this, and even when they did, it never felt... like this," you confessed, your voice filled with a mix of fascination and uncertainty. "it feels... exhilarating."

gwen leaned closer, her eyes shining with a spark of light. "really? are you serious?"

your heart fluttered at her smile as she gazed into your soul. what was happening to you?

"this is a feeling i've never experienced before, even in past relationships. i don't know... you make me feel special, seen, and desired," you admitted, your voice laced with confusion. "i don't know what's happening to me right now."

gwen's gaze fixated on you, her once cocky smile softening into an expression of empathy. she broke the connection between your intertwined hands, slowly withdrawing one of her own. bringing her hand to her lips, she lightly bit the tip of her glove and sensually peeled it off, revealing her bare skin.

"i can't believe any of this is real," she muttered, her breath caressing your face. "can i kiss you?"

the question caught you off guard, amidst the whirlwind of emotions and confusion. your mind felt scrambled, making it difficult to think clearly.

"yes," you mumbled, your voice wavering with uncertainty, yet your eyes betraying an eager anticipation.

gwen's eyes lit up at your response. "perfect," she breathed before pressing her lips against yours.

your heart began to race, pounding fiercely within your chest. this was the last place you expected to find yourself, and you couldn't help but feel a jumble of confusion and conflicting emotions. "that’s it— just relax... everything will be fine," gwen whispered, her voice now soothing and strangely comforting, despite the circumstances.

you nodded, tentatively wrapping your arms around her shoulders and drawing her closer to you.

gwen leaned in even closer, her hands now tangling in your hair as her body pressed against yours. as she kissed you, your breath caught in your throat. it felt wrong, like you shouldn't be enjoying it. yet, you couldn't deny the undeniable sensation of pleasure that gwen's soft lips evoked.

a whimper escaped your lips as gwen reluctantly pulled away, expression tinged with sadness from the loss of contact. her eyes held a look of longing and desire as they locked with yours.

"that was even better than i imagined," she whispered, her voice hushed but audible in the close proximity.

"i... i think i liked it too," you managed to reply, your gaze averting to conceal the flustered state you were in.

it was true. in that moment, you were completely captivated by gwen like never before.

"i came all this way just to see your beautiful face," gwen commented, her hand firmly grasping your chin to turn your gaze back towards her.

as your eyes flickered between her piercing gaze and her inviting lips, a smile spread across gwen's face. without hesitation, she pulled you closer and kissed you once more. the taste of her lingered on your lips, tempting you to fully embrace the forbidden situation. you knew it was wrong, and yet... there was an inexplicable allure to gwen's soft kisses that made you reluctant to let go. confusion clouded your mind, even as your body responded to the intoxicating sensations. you found yourself not wanting the kiss to end.

a moan escaped your lips as gwen's wet tongue grazed your bottom lip, igniting a surge of desire. your grip on her shoulders tightened, your fingers clawing at her black cloak.

gwen released a soft moan of her own as her tongue gently explored the depths of your mouth. her hands trailed down your body, her touch growing more suggestive. "(y/n)..." she whispered seductively, her voice laced with desire.

once again, your body seemed to revel in the moment, despite the confusion plaguing your mind. her tongue slipped deeper into your mouth, eliciting a whimper of pleasure. the taste and sensation sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your entire being.

conflicted and seduced, you clung tightly to her cloak, yearning for her lips to remain fused with yours as your heart pounded relentlessly.

gwen continued to kiss you passionately, her tongue exploring the inner recesses of your mouth. her touch grew bolder, and your mind struggled to process the overwhelming sensations. it all felt so wrong, and yet your body responded eagerly to gwen's every move. the kiss felt irresistible, betraying the rationality of your thoughts.

your hands instinctively trailed up from her shoulders to the nape of her neck, lightly pulling at her hair for support. another moan escaped your lips, blending with hers, as gwen positioned her leg between your thighs, creating a tantalizing friction.

gwen's hand firmly gripped the back of your neck, pulling you even closer as her lips devoured yours. the tension and confusion intensified within your mind, but despite it all, the physical pleasure of being so intimately entwined with gwen tantalized your senses. the sensation of her body pressing against yours caused a subtle squirming response. you couldn't deny the pleasure that coursed through you, even as the situation felt inherently wrong.

for a fleeting moment, your lips disconnected, allowing you to lock eyes, but the magnetic pull between you drew you back in. you leaned in, kissing her again with a primal hunger, your hands gripping her in an instinctive and passionate manner.

you found yourself gasping for air, your breaths ragged and desperate as you tried to replenish the oxygen you had forgotten to take in during the prolonged, intense kiss.

gwen pulled back, her head tilted to the side, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips briefly before she wiped it away with her gloved hand, smearing it aside. her messy blonde hair framed her face, and you noticed her chest heaving up and down, mirroring your own heavy breathing.

nervously, she asked, "can... can i take you out on a date?"

a smile spread across your lips, unable to resist the pull of excitement. "i'd like that," you replied almost instantly, catching your breath.

suddenly, the blaring sound of police sirens echoed through the block, their blue and red lights reflecting through your window. it seemed, for once, the police had arrived promptly.

"way to ruin a fun time," gwen scoffed, annoyance evident on her face as she stepped back. "i think it's time for me to go."

despite the interruption, you couldn't help but be captivated by how attractive gwen looked in that moment. her hair was tousled, her lips plump and bright red from your passionate kisses, and her eyes held a smoky allure.

"police, open up!" a voice yelled from outside the door, the knocking growing more forceful.

you glanced over at the door, which shook violently from the pounding, the sound of the sirens threatening to drown out your senses. when you turned your attention back to gwen, she had already retrieved her mask, putting it on over her head and securely fastening it. she removed her glove, then picked up the knife from the floor.

"so, about that date, how about saturday?" she asked, a smile gracing her lips.

you couldn't help but match her mood, the excitement bubbling within you. "yeah, that works," you answered eagerly.

gwen fiddled with the voice box, adjusting it before placing it back into her costume. "i can't wait," ghostface remarked, the iconic voice returning.

before you could respond, she swiftly made her way to the back door, disappearing into the night just as the police burst through your front door.

as the police stormed into your residence, the chaos unfolded. you were momentarily overwhelmed by the commotion, the loud voices, and the flashing lights. the officers quickly apprehended you, their stern commands blending with the cacophony of sirens outside.

moments later, the scene shifted. you found yourself sitting in the back of an ambulance, surrounded by paramedics who were checking you over for any injuries. the blaring sirens had been replaced by a steady hum, providing a strange sense of calm amidst the chaos you had just experienced.

one of the paramedics, a kind-faced woman with a gentle demeanor, asked, "are you feeling alright? can you tell us if anything hurts?"

you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "i... i think i'm okay," you replied, your voice shaky yet relieved. "just a bit shaken up."

the paramedic nodded understandingly, her gloved hands skillfully examining you for any signs of physical harm. after a thorough assessment, she reassured you, "physically, you seem to be alright. however, it's important to take care of yourself emotionally too. if you need someone to talk to, don't hesitate to reach out."

you offered a grateful smile, appreciating her empathy in the midst of the chaotic aftermath. "thank you," you said sincerely. "i'll keep that in mind."

“we already reached out to your guardian so they’ll be here soon, just rest up,” the woman stated before walking off.

as the paramedics finished their assessment and went to speak to the police for whatever further evaluation, your mind wandered back to the unexpected encounter with gwen.

something about this situation felt deeply unsettling. not only was gwen a killer, but her behavior had crossed the boundaries of normalcy into something much darker. the realization of her true nature sent chills down your spine, prompting a wave of revulsion.

however, you couldn't deny the conflicting emotions that had stirred within you during those fifteen minutes with gwen. for the first time in your life, someone has shown you such profound attention and affection, making you feel loved, appreciated, and even worshiped for simply being yourself. it was a heady mix of excitement and nervousness, emotions you had never experienced to this extent with any previous crush.

as you whispered the word "crush" to yourself, a sinking feeling settled in. you couldn't deny that you had allowed yourself to become entangled in a dangerous situation.

deep down, you knew that going through with the date was a sick and misguided decision. it went against your better judgment and morality. the allure of the attention and desire overshadowed your rationality, blinding you from the bright red flags waving in front of your face.

but you are your parents' daughter, so maybe you can fix her.

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ALL WRITING IS @PRIMAVIVA.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Man-sized Part 1/9 Dance For You

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!OC Tags: Explicit content, only for +18 audiences. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics). CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters. Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

He was always there, every night for a week, and then disappeared for months.

He was there a few moments before she began her show, and left right after it ended. He never watched the other girls, the ones who she only warmed up for, the ones who actually stripped and were professionals. He never had a lap dance, a private show, nothing. He just ordered one scotch, watched her little pole dance show, and left.

She used to pick someone from the audience, just one single guy who looked more or less harmless. She was performing to that one guy only — it was more comfortable that way. She could concentrate better, and it was easier to try and be seductive. To be in control.

But he wasn't harmless. And she wasn't in control.

But ever since he started to visit the place, she always picked him, and it required no effort whatsoever to appear seductive. She was wet after every show she performed for him.

When she danced for him, she could feel his gaze on her, as goosebumps and flames that licked her skin. He didn't look at her like she was a goddess. Or a whore. He looked at her like she was a woman, like she was his woman, and they were the only ones in that club. She knew she was being nonsensical — after all, he was just another guy who came to watch an exotic dancer.

But she wasn't one of the stars, she didn't even strip.

At some point, she realized she started to do choreographies just for him. She started to check the calendar, count the days, because he was usually gone only a month, maybe one and a half. Then he came back, every night, for a week or so. She could see that he liked it when she did inversions and shoulder mounts on the pole. Perhaps he could tell that it demanded a huge amount of strength. She liked it that someone admired that — her strength and agility, not her outfit, not even the way she arched her back or threw her hair around.

He was looking at her like she was an artist and an athlete.

She could tell he was an athlete too, but what kind, remained a mystery. He was a big fellow, a muscled fellow, and she always tried to catch what it was that he had tattooed on his forearm.

In the darkness, his eyes were like burning coals, even if the rest of him was pale and blonde, almost like a color that was worn and washed out. He was the most tired, exhausted man she had ever seen, especially on the first nights of his week in town. But that didn't take away an ounce of his power. The whole club could've been full of big, dangerous-looking men, and he would've still been the most intriguing person in her eyes.

At some point, the heated gazes and the tension built up to such heights that she walked to the bar after her show. She rarely did that — she was here to dance and that was all. Get some money so she could study. Some of the girls liked to hustle, but she only wanted to go home after her show, which was draining, especially when he wasn't there to watch her.

She knew he was going to leave again soon. This was one of the last nights if she had her calculations right, if not the last. She already knew she would miss him and copy-paste his image to the audience every night until he would finally materialize on one of those chairs again.

She saw he saw her approaching him. He raised his chin, drew his shoulders back, and turned slightly on the chair, angled his body towards her. She slowed her walk as she reached him, enjoying the way he was forced to look up at her from where he was sitting.

"Are you gonna buy me a drink?"

A smile rose to his face, just a tiny one, one that didn't even bare teeth. It was simply an acknowledgment.

He rose from the chair, took his coat, and left.

---

The next time she saw him was only half a month later.

She climbed the pole, and he watched, had that tiny smile playing in the corner of his lips through the whole show. Her choreography had started to resemble something she would've chosen to perform in a pole dance competition rather than in this kind of place. She had ditched the heels, and danced like she was both Tarzan and Jane; flexible, strong as fuck, showing off what she could do with just one stiff vertical object. He didn't look as tired as before, and when she came to the bar like a bitch in heat, sniffing around a strong, virile male, she saw he had two drinks in front of him.

Perhaps she was making a fool of herself… But she walked toward him again, almost walked past him, then got stopped by an outstretched hand that held a Long Island iced tea.

"Took your time," she said as she grabbed the offered drink.

The man didn't answer. Her heart was thumping faster than when she was exerting herself up on that pole, now occupied by the first true star of the evening.

"May I sit?"

He nodded, and she could feel her palms get sweaty. She didn't usually do this kind of stuff... but when she did, it certainly did not go like this. Like she was the one trying to woo the man.

"So, what do you do?"

He still didn't say a word, and she was beginning to think that the man was actually a mute.

"Are you a professional boxer?"

Finally, a chuckle came. Dark, and husky...

"No."

He had a hoarse, gravelly voice, a voice she could listen to for forever if he only would speak.

"MMA?"

A shake of the head. She peeked at the forearm placed on the table between their drinks, and she saw the inked skull, a helmet, some kind of a bomb…

"You in the army?"

"Somethin' like that."

She barely caught the Manchester accent. Shit… This man was just… He was sexy as hell. Probably picked up ladies like berries wherever he went. She took a sip of that Long Island — why would he buy her a drink with so much hard alcohol in it? It was a bit suspicious. She hadn't seen him buy it, hadn't seen if he had put something in it…

"Oh, I get it. You're James Bond."

He was amused, but something in his eyes told her that she had hit a bit too close to home this time.

"What's your name?"

She was starting to get tired of listening to her own voice, tired of prying for information. But her heart rate spiked as she saw how his interest seemed to die immediately after her latest question. He looked away, his eyes swept the club, and she had a feeling that she had just played poker against an actual Bond and lost it all. Had been a good player until she blew it by asking his name.

"Simon." He rose, reached for his coat, and was leaving again…

"Are you gonna ask my name?"

Fuck, stop speaking.

"It was a nice talk, Sarah."

---

He came back the next day. This for sure was the last time she would see him before he vanished again. But it was impossible for her to go to the bar because she suddenly felt like she had to put on a whole other show after the pole dance performance.

A show of playing hard to get.

So after the lights on the stage died, she went straight to the backstage and got herself ready for a walk home.

"Sarah… there's some guy out there asking for you."

But the show worked. She took her stuff, glanced at the mirror to see that everything was like it should be, then went to get her shoes.

"You got a fan?"

She didn't answer, because it was suddenly hard to pay attention to anything else than the guy named Simon, the guy who had watched her dance for months and was now waiting for her at the back door, the one used by the staff.

A fucking spy, indeed..

"Just be careful, ok?"

"Yeah."

As if she needed a reminder that the brooding James Bond looked like death and danger.

"Hi."

He looked her up and down, didn't say hi back, but gave her a few dark red carnations.

"Oh. Thanks."

The fact that a guy like him was giving her flowers at the back door of a strip club shouldn't have affected her the way it did. Should definitely not make her weak in the knees like he was a high school crush asking her out. Well, he was good at what he did, she had to give him that. Perhaps not the most original move, but still… to her, original enough. She had never received flowers from anyone.

"How long are you stayin' here?" His voice was both smooth and rough, and she wondered if he was as stoic off his feet as he was on them.

"Actually, I was just leaving."

"I can walk you home."

Yet again, it shouldn't have been this way. She was accustomed to pulling the strings, calling out the shots. It wasn't that she didn't feel safe with him… It was just that she didn't feel in control. At all.

They had walked only a few blocks when he lit a cigarette. So much for not hooking up with smokers… And somehow that cancer stick managed to make this man even sexier. Manly.

It was stupid — he had all the traits of a modern cowboy, and she should feel repulsed, not hooked.

"So, how's the James Bond thing going?"

"It's tiring."

"Yeah, you look like you could use a good night's sleep."

Not what I had in mind for you tonight, but still…

He really was a man of few words, but she had a hunch that he wasn't shy. Perhaps Simon only spoke when he had something groundbreaking to say.

"Why do you watch my shows?"

He inhaled the smoke deep and long before giving his answer.

"You move well. Strong 'n' sharp, trained… Could be a fighter."

His compliments made her blush in the cool night air, but she wasn't surprised. He admired and respected toughness, just like she had suspected.

By the time they reached her apartment, she was almost shaking with excitement, and he had filled himself with that smoke.

What the hell… It couldn't taste that bad.

"You wanna come inside?"

The amber eyes looked at her with a flash of amusement instead of hunger.

"Sure."

He suddenly seized her, pinned her against her front door with his body, and kissed her. The flowers dropped to the ground as her hands shot out to clasp his neck; to feel the raw muscle there.

He didn't taste bad at all.

He could've taken her right then and there, in the middle of that sleepy, quiet, dark street, and she wouldn't have said no. Her last time with a man had been everything but mysterious and exciting, months and months ago, and Simon felt like a perfect match right now, a perfect, tall, dark stranger. He was just the kind of man she had always found nothing short of disgusting: an overconfident heartbreaker who couldn't commit.

But this evening was different. Her morals were deep asleep, and she was ovulating, and, well, it was a first time for everything…

He broke the kiss only to pant a question, his second ever, in her mouth.

"You accept credit or cash?"

The slap was way harder than she had meant it to be. Her palm lashed out in pure, hot rage; for having thought that a man like him was nothing but another chauvinistic jerk.

But what he'd implied wasn't even the worst thing. It was the laugh that followed her.

She heard it even after she had shut the door, brushed her teeth; after she climbed into her lonely bed to get some sleep. The tears that emerged were born of shame, not disappointment.

---

He came back after a month.

She knew she shouldn't go down there, to roam among the filth and give him the satisfaction and the mercy.

But those eyes drew her to him like a snare, beckoned her to have another round in the ring with him.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Come on, dove. Don't back away when it just got interesting."

He gave her a full smile this time. She had a feeling that this man didn't smile often, and that flash of pure, bold contentment charmed her right off her feet. Simon wasn't a mystery or a puzzle, he was a whole Rubik's cube.

"I could show you how to do a proper right hook instead of that bitch slap you gave me."

"Wasn't painful enough for you?"

He laughed, darkly, and it went straight between her legs.

"Slept on my right side for a week."

She found herself smiling against her will.

He had thought of her for an entire week when going to bed and was now back for more.

Fuck… The way he just spun her around his finger in mere minutes was despicable. She turned around to leave so that she would win at least one round, but that gruff, dark voice stopped her.

"It was a test. Apologies."

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned.

"A test?"

"Yeah. A test." He downed his scotch, and she found herself thinking whether Simon had an addiction to the taste of smoke instead of tobacco per se.

"You got more tests for me?" She tried to appear mocking but only ended up sounding like she was asking for it, asking for more tests and humiliation and… whatever they called it these days. Toxic relationships.

"I was thinking about asking you out."

"We are out."

"Suit yourself."

That fucking accent… It was responsible for this, at least for the most part — that Manchester gruffness was why she was so wet and weak for him. As was the tattoo and his ominous strength, his height and that lone wolf mentality… But why the hell was he harassing her when he could get some pussy even more easily? Why stalk her for months and months and deliberately insult her just when he was about to get laid?

"You know... You're not the first guy who's tried this tactic. And I'm telling you now that it won't work."

The smile turned into a slight smirk. "I doubt you've ever met a guy like me."

Jesus Christ, this man was annoying.

"Wow, you really are a Bond…"

"Dangerous and good-looking?"

"A womanizer who's full of himself."

That fucking laugh. She should leave now when she still had the chance.

But she didn't.

She didn't sit down… But she didn't leave either. He looked at her with those infuriating dark eyes, slightly bloodshot, like he was not only having a rough week at work but a whole rough life as well.

"And you got all the characteristics of a Bond girl."

She didn't take the bait of asking what exactly did he mean by that.

"What do you do for a living, Mr. Bond?"

He licked his lips, narrowed his eyes, and all in all, looked like he was estimating whether she could handle what he was about to tell her.

"I kill people."

Well fuck me…

Ok. Fuck.

"Oh, okay. So you're in Hells Angels or something?"

He smiled and shook his head slowly.

"You're a merc?"

He gave him a vague nod of the head, a shrug of the shoulder, a gesture that said: "Kind of".

"Why would you want to take me on a date?"

Why don't you just say it how it is, that you only want to fuck me?

"'Cause there's something here. You feel it, I feel it."

"You're looking for a relationship in a titty bar?"

He laughed again, and even she had to smile. He matched her boldness, her unapologetic straightforwardness. It couldn't kill her to live a little. Even if it meant tumbling into bed with a cowboy. Even if it meant living a little with a killer.

"You never know," he offered.

"You're a bit too cocky for my taste."

"You've barely even tasted me yet."

Fuck, this man would soon make her drip all over the floor. The tall, dark stranger tilted his head and left her with no choice.

"Shouldn't you at least give it a try before you say no?"

PART 2:

#ghost x oc #simon ghost riley x original character #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod fanfic #ghost smut #simon riley smut

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ronsenthal · 4 months

Text

Ron Speirs x Reader

Summary: Nobody really stands alone at Currahee even if you try. Sometimes we try to run away from our thoughts and demons but sometimes they catch us on the race for the better or worse.

A/N: This fic was written on the sole purpose of filling the big void in my heart caused by the showrunners who refused to gives us Ron in Toccoa, it was based on this post ignited by this military AU prompt. Also slightly based on the fact that Speirs used to be a runner for the athletics back when he was a student.

Since he was a kid he loved to run, he ran all the way from school to his home trying to get there as fast as he could because it meant more time to play with his toys and his friends. When he got a bit older he loved to run because it was a relief for his troubled mind, but also because he was so good at it, he was always a competitor and the winning feeling gave him joy and praise it was his runaway.

Life was going fast and there was no way to stop him, in his mind there was a clear path, study, get a job, get a house and so far everything was going in the right direction, but that was until the news about a war came and he had to put a hold on everything he thought was in his path.

It’s been some weeks since he arrived at Camp Toccoa for his basic training, so far the physical requirements were the last of his problems, he even enjoyed the preparations and of course his favourite part was the endless running exercises. He has always been smart, but the endless morning classes studying maps, sand tables, aerial photos were a torture, not because he couldn’t understand it, no! In fact he understood it better than the old officer trying to teach them, and that was the problem, they were too slow and he was a natural born tactician.

One afternoon after a torture session was over he had some spare time on his hands, so he quickly changed into his PT gear and headed towards the mountain he was getting so acquainted. When they said that Currahee means “Stands Alone” he could understand why the natives gave this name to the 1.700 foot tall giant. It was the chance for his mind to go blank for some time.

You wanted to get better, you HAD to do better for you and for all the women who couldn’t yet join the army, this was always on the back of your mind, you embraced every chance to get some extra training. Each company had 5 women to the personnel as part of the government development plans (and propaganda), of course being ever so lucky you got into Easy Company, the same company that had the worst CO in the entire battalion.

Herbert Sobel enjoyed every chance he got to torture and make the whole company miserable, at first you thought it was some personal hatred towards you and the other girls, but turns out he seemed to hate everyone. He pointed out the most ridiculous reasons to make everyone run the goddamn mountain, once he didn’t like the way you tied your hair during a friday night run. After the incident you decided to cut your hair short to prevent any other problems, poor Bull was furious when he saw you that it took Martin, Luz and Christenson to hold him back from trying to strangle Sobel.

One afternoon you decided to try to improve your time running Currahee so you got your mussete bag filled with some fruits you charmed Winters to give to you back in the kitchen and your water canteen. You were finally alone this time which gave you more liberty without feeling watched every step.

After some minutes you saw that there was someone else behind you but didn’t paid any attention as you looked at the watch on your wrist and so far your time was good, so you decided to maintain your focus and keep your good rhythm. The landscape was slowly changing as you was getting closer to the summit of the mountain, suddenly you looked at your left and someone was passing you like a lightning bolt, “oh great another show-off fucker trying to prove that he is better than me” you thought to yourself and muttered a “dickhead” after he was gaining advantage so you pushed yourself harder and harder, but he was so quick you couldn’t catch him.

Some more 15 endless minutes later you arrived to the highest point of Currahee, you once again looked at your watch, a new record!!! You got so proud that instead of running down the other 3 miles you decided to stay and enjoy the landscape down bellow. You chose a nice spot to sit down under some plants that were covering at least a tiny little bit of the sun and decided to take a fruit, but then you saw him.

Being in the army surrounded by some handsome men gave you at least the useful ability to pretend not to stare down a shirtless man, but this one was a completely different story. The dickhead you saw earlier was laying down on the sun just a couple of feets away from you, using his PT shirt under his back as some kind of towel to protect him from the rocks and the gravel underneath.

As the sun was kissing his sweaty pale skin and his dark hair you watched how his toned chest was going up and down in some uneven rhythm, your mind was racing, your heart beating faster and your breath was matching his so you tried to shrug it off telling yourself it was the adrenaline from your effort, wrong again. You watched as his long eyelashes rested so peacefully as his eyes were closed, then once again you tried to change your thoughts and peel the orange on your hand.

You took your knife to split the fruit and when you finally opened it the citric smell filled the air, the man near you slowly opened up his eyes as he was taken from some trance and scanned your face, he took a look at his watch and smiled to himself as he closed his eyes again to which you rolled your eyes. As if reading your mind you heard a hard voice suddenly speaking.

"I'm not judging you, on the contrary, I'm quite surprised you were so quick, I had to push harder to get past you" he said opening just one of his eyes to glance at you.

That took you by surprise, you could feel your cheeks burning after the compliment and you only mumbled some weird thanks.

After an awkward silence he started to get up to sit down, now his dirty shirt was thrown over his left shoulder, you followed his movement as he was so close you could see the freckles in his back. Trying once again to change your focus you reached your canteen to get some water, he glanced at you and gave a soft smile to witch you could only understand as a quiet plead for some water.

"You want some?" you said reaching it for him to take.

"Don't your admirable CO forbid you guys to drink water while running up and down here or something like that?" he asked raising one of his eyebrows in a playful way.

"Sometimes yes but thankfully he is not here" you said trying to hold your laugh.

"He got quite a reputation for himself, poor bastard, couldn't imagine being in his skin" he said giving back your canteen and nodding his head with a silent thank you, his eyes carefully watching you.

"Wait how do you know I'm from Easy Company?" you said suddenly curious after realising that you had not yet introduced yourself.

"Well, you got quite a reputation too, a better one, the toughest girl on the whole battalion" he said with a grin on his face "that and the fact that I saw you running up here with Winters, a girl and a redhead is quite a sight here, you know"

"I'm Y/L/N" you said with a polite little smile.

"Speirs" he said in return as you shook hands .

"Well Speirs, nice to meet you but now I need to return now or I'll be in big trouble" you said shoving your stuff into your bag again and cleaning your hands in your shorts.

"Want to race?" he said suddenly getting up and wearing his shirt, you could swear.

"Winner buys a drink?" you said laughing.

"Smartass" he replied and started to run down the mountain

You tried to keep up with him for the biggest part of the trail and tried your best but before he was fast, he reached the finishing line and then he watched as you finished too.

You both were trying to catch some air and exchanged some looks while sharing friendly smiles.

That night at the bar as you waited while he went to get a couple of beers for you both you couldn't help but smile as you realised that nobody stands alone at Currahee.

When you saw someone running through the streets of Foy and through the enemy lines you heart almost stopped, you knew it was him, you knew nobody could be this fearless and run so fast like Ronald Fucking Speirs.

At this point everybody knew he was at little bit crazy on the head and he got quite a reputation too. The thing is he was almost too crazy for his own good and once again you were the one holding your breath and silently praying for no harm.

When everybody thought he was crazy enough here comes the lunatic running again after passing some info to I Company. You could see the happiness and relief on the faces of your friends, Lipton even got a dumb smile in his face. They were all happy that Easy finally got a good leader again.

As soon as he got his helmet off and sit down to rest you came furious stomping you way towards him.

"You crazy son of a bitch are you out of your goddamn mind?? Fucking stupid dickhead" you said slapping him on the arms and even giving little punches to his chest

Everyone else was sharing a confused look while watching this scene, Ron had no reaction and was somehow also confused looking at you. He let you curse and hit him, he knew why you got to that point.

"Woow woow woow, Y/N, calm down it's okay, look thanks to Lieutenant everything went fine" Lipton said holding you by your shoulders and carefully taking you away from Speirs.

"No you don't understand" you shouted as tears started to roll down your cheeks.

"Yes I do, okay, I might seem dumb but it's not that hard to figure where you were running away to every night since Aldbourne" he said giving you a comforting look you two often shared "Besides, it was so fucking awesome what he did there you must admit" Lipton said giving you a little wink.

You rolled your eyes at your best friend while trying to wipe away the tears. You felt a hand on your back and you turned around to see him but before you could curse him once again you felt his lips gently pressing yours.

For a moment you could swear that even the world stopped spinning around, the only sound you could hear was your own heart pounding on your chest, for a moment you were back at running Currahee, you could even smell some citric scent on the air. His lip were soft, his hands warm just gently squeezing your hips.

After the two of you went for the drink as part of the bet made on the summit of Currahee a friendship began. At first he was just a good friend but then you started to feel things you've never experienced before, it was love. Your first kiss was before making the jump on D-Day, on France you almost lost your head but he was there to help you, at Holland you almost lost him and thought you would never see those eyes again, on Bastogne you survived the freezing temperatures and used every opportunity to use his scarf to cover your face with the excuse of hiding from the cold when you were sick. He was always there, for you.

When he parted the kiss the smell of metal, gunpowder and dirty came all back like a punch, you looked at him once again and all your anger was gone, he was okay and so were you.

"Dickhead" was everything you said before he gently kissed your forehead, adjusted the M-1 on his shoulder and started to run between the line barking orders to the men.

Taglist: @mads-weasley, @footprintsinthesxnd, @sweetxvanixlla, @xxluckystrike, @malarkgirlypop, @lostloveletters, @next-autopsy, @ewipandora, @executethyself35, @easycompany123, @whollyjoly and @basilone

#ronald speirs #ron speirs #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fic #ronald speirs x reader #mw*#mf*

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sargeantposting · 4 months

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ARTICLE: The Florida Man of Formula 1 (2023)

Source: Michael M. Grynbaum, The New York Times Series: F1, 2023

Logan Sargeant, the only American driver in Formula 1, is zipping around the narrow streets of Baku, Azerbaijan, at roughly 200 miles an hour. His head bounces inside the cockpit as a wheel shudders over a rumble strip. It’s hard to hear over the banshee shriek of his V6 engine, carrying three times the horsepower of a run-of-the-mill Porsche Carrera.

Then the noise stops, and Baku vanishes. We’re inside a low-slung brick building nestled in the Oxfordshire countryside. The track, projected onto a CinemaScope-sized wraparound screen, was a mirage, part of a sophisticated training simulator. (F1 rules prohibit driving the real cars between races.) Mr. Sargeant climbs out of a replica driver’s seat wearing athletic pants. He won’t need a fireproof suit until later.

In three weeks’ time, Mr. Sargeant will do this for real: wind whipping his visor, G-forces of up to six times his body weight pressing on his neck, the ever-present threat of a catastrophic crash as he is watched by roughly 70 million people around the world. For now, it’s time for lunch. “Is chili bad for you?” he asks, digging into a bowl at his team’s commissary. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Williams Racing, in Grove, England. It was founded in Oxfordshire in the 1970s, but it’s now an American subsidiary: a Manhattan private equity firm, Dorilton Capital, bought the company in 2020 for an estimated $200 million.

F1 teams employ hundreds of employees and spend hundreds of millions of dollars developing the world’s most sophisticated racecars.

Reaching Formula 1, the highest level of international motor sport, is a big step for Mr. Sargeant, 22, a South Florida native who began racing rudimentary cars known as karts at 6 years old and this year joined the Williams Racing team as the first full-time American F1 driver since 2007.

For Formula 1 itself, finding a hometown hero for American fans is a giant leap.

Although it is enormously popular in Europe, F1 struggled for decades to break into the United States. That began to change in 2016, when the sport was purchased for $4.4 billion by the Colorado-based Liberty Media, owned by the cable magnate John Malone. Liberty ramped up its social media — F1 had barely kept a YouTube page — and backed a popular Netflix documentary series, “Drive to Survive.” Once geared toward aging white men, F1 now has a younger and more diverse fan base. American TV viewership is up 220 percent from 2018, and the sport made $2.6 billion in revenue last year.

Still, a subset of F1 devotees complain about what they see as an overemphasis on entertainment and ginned-up drama. Under Liberty, they argue, pure racing is taking a back seat to cheap tricks to reel in casual viewers. And they often use a dirty word for it: Americanization. “It is becoming more and more like Formula Hollywood,” Bernie Ecclestone, the 92-year-old Briton who built F1 into a global business, griped last year. “F1 is being made more and more for the American market.”

The backlash reached a crescendo at last week’s Miami Grand Prix, which was added in 2022 as a showpiece for American fans. In a prizefight-style pre-race ceremony, the rapper LL Cool J introduced the 20 drivers one by one amid swirling smoke and a squad of cheerleaders. Nearby, Will.i.am conducted a live orchestra playing the rap song he recently recorded with Lil Wayne as part of a “global music collaboration” with Formula 1. (The lyrics rhyme “Max Verstappen,” the name of the sport’s top driver, with “your champion.”)

“Pandering to the American audience is killing @F1,” wrote one fan on Twitter, echoing criticism that bubbled up across numerous F1 websites. Even the racers complained: “None of the drivers like it,” groused Lando Norris, a Briton who drives for McLaren. Undeterred, Liberty announced that the bombastic pre-race sequence would be featured at several more grands prix this year.

In the United States, F1 has long been associated with a certain European mystique, most famously, the louche glamour of the Monaco Grand Prix.

In the United States, F1 has long been associated with a certain European mystique. Its drivers race across the Ardennes forest (Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps in Belgium), the plains of Lombardy (Italy’s Autodromo Nazionale di Monza) and, most famously, the louche glamour of the Monaco Grand Prix. The sport’s stateside image could be summed up by the 2006 comedy, “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby,” which featured Sacha Baron Cohen as a pretentious French F1 driver named Jean Girard, a snooty Eurotrash foil to Will Ferrell’s macho NASCAR cowboy.

In 2023, F1 can feel a bit more Ricky Bobby than Jean Girard. In Miami, drivers circled a track built in the parking lot of the Dolphins football stadium, past an artificial Monaco-style “harbor”: blue-painted asphalt topped with ersatz yachts. A new Las Vegas race in November will have cars zooming down the Strip past Caesars Palace. Meanwhile, traditional races in France and Germany are gone.

Katy Fairman, a journalist based in Brighton, England, who runs the F1 podcast “Small Torque,” said she was surprised by the spectacle when she attended a race in Austin, Texas. “There were girls with pompoms,” she said. “I remember watching it and thinking, Oh my gosh, this is so different from anything I’d seen F1 do in a long time.”

Ms. Fairman conceded that some Europeans find the American hullabaloo “tacky.” But she added: “When it’s something to do with America, I think Europeans are quite judgmental. I think it’s just a bit of lighthearted fun. You guys like to have a party.”

The arrival of Mr. Sargeant, who grew up about an hour’s drive from the Miami racetrack, has spurred new interest, including a profile and photo shoot in GQ, and he’s happy to play the part. “What’s up America, let’s bring that energy!” he shouted to the cameras after LL Cool J introduced him as “the local boy done good.”

But as with F1, there are growing pains. In Miami, Mr. Sargeant finished last, his race ruined on the first lap when he damaged a front wing. After the checkered flag, he apologized to his team, his voice barely a whisper: “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe it.”

Weeks earlier, in an interview in England, Mr. Sargeant had demurred about the pressure of wearing the stars and stripes. “I try not to get too caught up in the talk of the role of ‘first American,’” he said. “It’s still very early for me, and I have a lot to learn still.”

If Mr. Sargeant doesn’t perform, there are dozens of drivers eager to take his spot. “At the moment,” he said, “I just have to worry about staying here.”

For a globe-trotting athlete, Mr. Sargeant can be soft-spoken and endearingly self-conscious.

‘I just want to get back in the gym.’

Before his tough Miami weekend, Mr. Sargeant was asked how he would celebrate a top 10 finish. “Honestly, it might sound lame, but probably just go back to my house and get in my bed for another night before I go back to London,” he replied. “That’s all I want to do.”

For a wealthy, handsome, globe-trotting athlete, Mr. Sargeant can be soft-spoken and endearingly self-conscious. It’s not unusual for someone who, like a tennis prodigy or Olympian gymnast, has devoted their life since childhood to a sole pursuit.

Mr. Sargeant was 6 when he and his brother Dalton got a kart from their parents for Christmas. “No one in the family was really even that much into racing,” Logan said. “We just picked it up as a hobby, something to do on the weekend.” He began winning junior races around the country — too easily. To reach the next level and pursue Formula 1, he’d have to leave behind his friends and beloved fishing excursions for life on a different continent: “We just needed a higher level of competition, and at the end of the day, that was in Europe.”

Mr. Sargeant left Florida before his 13th birthday, bouncing between Italy, Switzerland and Britain as he raced on the European junior circuit; in 2015, he became the first American to win the Karting World Championship since 1978. “As a kid, it was tough,” he recalled. “Coming from Florida, being outdoors all the time on the water, great weather — it was literally vice versa.” He eventually settled in London, where he spends most days working out with a trainer. “I get away from a race weekend, and I just want to get back in the gym,” he said. “I hate that feeling of leaving slack on the table.”

It is incredibly difficult to nab a seat in Formula 1. Today’s drivers are physical dynamos trained to optimize their reflexes and performance levels down to how well they can withstand jet lag — critical in a sport that this year will include 23 grands prix spread over five continents. F1 teams employ hundreds of employees and spend hundreds of millions of dollars developing the world’s most sophisticated racecars. But it’s ultimately up to the driver to execute.

It also helps to have money. Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion and F1’s only Black driver, is an exception, having grown up on a London council estate. Many F1 competitors are the sons of multimillionaires (and some billionaires) who can bankroll pricey travel and high-tech cars.

Mr. Sargeant falls into the scion category. He hails from a wealthy Florida asphalt shipping family. His uncle, Harry Sargeant III, is a former fighter pilot and onetime finance chair of Florida’s Republican Party who has been sued by the brother-in-law of King Abdullah II of Jordan and whose name turned up, tangentially, in the 2020 impeachment of former President Donald J. Trump. (Harry was not accused of any wrongdoing.)

Logan’s father, Daniel Sargeant, worked alongside Harry until the brothers had a falling out. In a 2013 lawsuit, Harry accused Daniel of misdirecting $6.5 million in corporate funds “for the purpose of advancing the international cart racing activities” of his sons, Logan and Dalton; that litigation was eventually settled.

In 2019, Daniel Sargeant pleaded guilty in federal court in New York to foreign bribery and money laundering charges related to his business dealings abroad. He is free on a $5 million bond and is awaiting sentencing. A Williams spokesman said that Logan Sargeant was not “in a position to comment” on any of the legal matters involving his family.

In F1, none of this particularly stands out. The mother of Mr. Sargeant’s Williams teammate, Alexander Albon, was jailed in Britain for swindling millions of pounds in fraudulent sales of high-end cars. A Russian racer, Nikita Mazepin, was booted from the sport after his oligarch father, a close ally of President Vladimir V. Putin, was sanctioned following the 2022 invasion of Ukraine.

James Vowles, the Williams team principal, said in an interview that he hired Mr. Sargeant for his speed, not his U.S. passport. “I’m incredibly pleased that the sport is growing in America, but I think it would be anything but disingenuous to say that Logan’s here for any other reason than I think he’s got this pure talent,” he said.

In his F1 debut in Bahrain in March, Mr. Sargeant finished 12th, outpacing this year’s two other rookies. “He has this insatiable desire to be better, to want more,” Mr. Vowles said. “He’s a perfectionist, and I like that in him.”

Tooting around in a Vauxhall Astra

Britain, where Formula 1 originated in 1950, remains the sport’s spiritual home, where most of its 10 teams are based. Williams was founded in Oxfordshire in the 1970s, but it’s now an American subsidiary: a Manhattan private equity firm, Dorilton Capital, bought the company in 2020 for an estimated $200 million.

It was an important cash infusion for a team that had struggled to keep up with rivals. Manufacturers like Mercedes-Benz pour enormous resources into their F1 teams, which double as an elaborate global marketing campaign and an in-house innovation farm; tech developed for F1, like engines that recycle braking energy as an accelerant, can trickle into consumer vehicles.

Formula 1 car simulators at the Williams Racing factory.

Formula 1 drivers practice on sophisticated training simulators.

The Williams campus is a humdrum brick pile that could be mistaken for an office park — a far cry from McLaren’s space-age complex an hour’s drive away. Many F1 teams provide their drivers with a high-end sports car for personal use; Mr. Sargeant commutes in a Vauxhall Astra, a compact.

Even the team’s sponsors are relatively down-market; whereas the official watch of Ferrari is Richard Mille (starting price: $60,000), Williams has a deal with Bremont, whose timepieces retail for significantly less. (On a recent visit, a Williams press aide was quick to extract a spare Bremont watch from his pocket and ensure Mr. Sargeant was wearing it whenever a photographer hovered.)

Given the huge costs, corporate partnerships are crucial to F1, part of the reason the American market, with its abundance of affluent consumers and wealthy brands, has proved so tempting. Gerald Donaldson, a journalist who has covered F1 for 45 years, recalled how cars were gradually taken over by corporate logos starting in the late 1960s.

“Marlboro paid all the Ferrari bills, including the drivers, for many years,” he said in an interview. “There are eager companies who want the publicity.” Mr. Sargeant’s car features ads for Michelob Ultra beer and an American financial firm, Stephens. In Miami last weekend, beachgoers spotted an airborne banner reading “Go Logan!” alongside the image of a Duracell battery.

Last year, the Miami race was viewed on ABC by 2.6 million people, the biggest American audience for a live F1 telecast. Ratings for this year’s race fell about 25 percent, perhaps a result of a duller-than-usual season dominated by one team, Red Bull.

Still, viewing data show that F1 is expanding beyond affluent cities associated with elite sports: In 2022, its top five American TV markets included Asheville, N.C., and Tulsa, Okla. ESPN is clearly betting on more growth. When the sports network renewed its broadcast rights last year, it agreed to pay $90 million annually — up from the $5 million-a-year deal it signed in 2019.

Liam Parker, a former adviser to Boris Johnson who now leads communications at F1, said the sport was intent on rectifying past mistakes. “We were too arrogant,” he said. “We couldn’t understand why the American fan base wasn’t falling in love with us.” But he also pushed back on the complaints that Liberty’s efforts to raise the entertainment factor had stripped F1 of something essential.

“This whole argument of ‘Americanization,’ it’s a very crude way to describe things,” he said. “We shouldn’t ignore things that can improve things for new and core fans. It’s about giving people more choices in the modern era. It’s modernization of access to everyone.”

Mr. Hamilton, arguably the biggest celebrity of the current F1 lineup, has offered his own endorsement of Liberty’s approach. “I mean jeez, I grew up listening to LL Cool J,” he told reporters in Miami. “I thought it was cool, wasn’t an issue to me.”

For all the debates over elitism, good taste and corporate rap collaborations, the core appeal of F1, when you get right down to it, may be something simpler — something Mr. Sargeant got at when asked in the interview if he had loved cars as a kid.

“I absolutely love driving, as you can imagine,” he said. “But to be honest, I’m not one of those people who studies cars and, you know, likes to know every detail of every single car. It doesn’t really interest me.”

“The part that interests me,” he concluded, “is driving them as fast as I can go.”

Eliza Shapiro contributed reporting from Miami. Kitty Bennett contributed research. Michael M. Grynbaum is a media correspondent covering the intersection of business, culture and politics. A version of this article appears in print on May 14, 2023, Section BU, Page 1 of the New York edition with the headline: The Florida Man Of Formula 1.

#logan sargeant #year:2023 #source:newspaper #one of the best logan articles imo #feel free to message me if you want me to gift you a copy of this article from the NYT with my subscription

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