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#anyways hi i drew him have a good day
fisheito · 9 days
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at last....yakumo with CHIKEN
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journey-to-the-attic · 8 months
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au where this was how ik and diavolo met for the first time when she was like seven
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sleepinglionhearts · 1 year
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new stickers? it’s more likely than you think!
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ratwithhands · 1 year
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Happy Emmet/Kudari Day!
Heard from someone on insta that today was Emmet day, and since he's my favourite twin out of the two (sorry Ingo fans), I thought I'd put up something nice
Today is also International Asexuality Day! Wishing the best for fellow aces out there ^^ Fun fact I hc the twins as ace/aro pretty much all the time
Hope you fellas like the art and I'll see you after work's done!
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pushing500 · 7 months
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My colonists are so rude to the new guy, Zonovo. Like, I get that he came to raid the base and do unsavoury things with that warhammer he's carrying, but now he cooks their food, and he's very nice otherwise! Leave the poor kid alone!
He does, in fact, have a permanent gunshot injury on his left leg, by the way. I'll have to remember to get Fafo to make another bionic leg to fix that up.
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ra-vio · 2 years
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quick doodle
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ghost-with-a-teacup · 10 months
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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧
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Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader
Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.
Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3
When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.
It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.
Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.
Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.
A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.
You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.
Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.
~
“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.
“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.
“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.
“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.
They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.
“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.
“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.
You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.
You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.
They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.
You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.
“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?
“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.
“OW!”
~
Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?
The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.
Well, unless you were there.
“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.
“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.
“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.
“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.
Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.
For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.
There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.
“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.
“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.
“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.
“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.
Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.
There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.
He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.
It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.
~
“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.
“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.
Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.
“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”
“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.
You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.
“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.
“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”
“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.
“Please,” he mutters.
“What was that?”
“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.
“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.
“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.
“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.
“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.
“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.
In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.
With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.
And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.
“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask
“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.
“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.
“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.
“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.
“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.
~
It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.
Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.
Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.
“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.
She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.
“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.
“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”
You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.
“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.
“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.
“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.
And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.
~
People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.
It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.
“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.
“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.
“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”
Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.
Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.
“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”
~
“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.
“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.
Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.
“What makes you think so?”
“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.
“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.
Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.
“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.
“We’re actually married.”
The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.
Then, all hell breaks loose.
A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.
Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3
Part two out now!! Read it here.
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daycourtofficial · 16 days
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You’re losing me
Summary: Azriel has always put his duties as spymaster above his own needs and wants. How long can you let him keep putting work over you before boiling over?
Author’s note: I am so sorry about this babes, this is pure heartbreak. Anyway angst is a new genre for me so please lmk how this goes for you (good, bad, awful - lmk)
(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)
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You sit in the library of your shared home, the soft cushion of your favorite armchair not providing the comfort it used to. The library was your favorite room in the house - you and Azriel spent thousands of hours in here reading independently, reading to each other, or just enjoying the silence with each other for company.
The room was beautiful- you both adored the entirety of the house, but this room drew both of you in immediately. It’s beautiful stain-glass windows creating brilliant hues of color to move about the room during the day, bringing life to the dark wood that adorns the walls of the room.
Vivid colors from the scenes in the stain glass window would dance across the floor, as if reenacting the depictions just for you two.
It’s dark now, the sun having set hours ago, and you can’t remember the last time you enjoyed the light of the room. The last time you and Azriel had enjoyed the light of the room.
The last time you and Azriel just enjoyed each other’s company without knowing he was going to leave in a matter of hours.
It was a song and dance you were familiar with by now - he’d return home from doing some work requested by Rhys, you’d make him some food, you two would snuggle or have sex, and he’d be gone by the time you woke up.
It wasn’t always like this, but the two years since the war have caused Azriel to dive headfirst into his work, accepting every scrap of work Rhysand would push his way, darting out the door like it was calling to him.
You hear the front door open, knowing who it is despite their silent entrance. Sighing, you stand up and walk out of the library, closing the door behind you.
You walked through the halls of your home, feet softly padding on the hardwood floor until you see him across the living room, still in his leathers.
It used to amuse you, when he’d return in his leathers, compared to you in your frilly nightgowns. It was quite a sight, the dark leather surrounded by the satins and cottons of your nightgowns.
Now it just furthered to prove the divide between you.
“Az, we were supposed to go to the bakery today to taste cakes.”
You hardly let him walk through the door before picking a fight, but his absence at the bakery hours ago left you ample time to stew in your negative emotions.
He runs his hand down his face, the purple and blue bruising under his eyes having grown more and more prominent over the weeks. Truthfully, you don’t want to start a fight, but you’ve let too many of these things slide in the past two years and you’re at your tipping point.
Missed dates, rescheduled dinners, missed anniversaries, cancelled trips. You had tried talking several times about it, but you need your fiancé around more than he has been. No amount of begging can make him do anything about it, though.
The most egregious of all was the continually delayed status of your wedding ceremony. You’ve had to rescind the invitations two times now, and you’re have tempted to send out fresh ones that just say “date: TBD”.
He just sighs in response, telling you, “I had to work, I had a mission.”
You sigh, knowing it was the truth. Your fiancé would never cheat on you, but he would put everyone else’s needs above his.
And above your own.
“Azriel, I really needed you today. It was important to me for you to be there.”
“It’s just a cake - pick any flavor you want. You know what I like,” he says, sitting onto the couch and taking off his boots.
“It’s not just a cake! This is your wedding too - I cannot make every decision for this. It’s supposed to be about us, not about me.”
You shake your head, exasperation bubbling to the surface, “I feel insane going to these appointments because I have a fiancé who never shows up! I swear I heard the florist say she pitied me because I pretended to be engaged!”
Azriel drags a hand down his face, “can we not do this now? I’m exhausted and want to bathe before bed.”
You huff out a laugh, as Azriel tries to move past you but you continue to follow him. “When would be a better time? You’re hardly home lately, and you leave at a moment’s notice for Rhysand.”
He whips his head at you, “it’s my job, my duty.”
You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure you could delegate a decent proportion of your work to the people under you that you both hand selected and trained yourself!
He sighs, exasperated, “it’s my job.”
A line you’ve heard a thousand times. You knew who he was when you began dating him, you’ve always known who he was and what he did.
But you thought his need to feel worthy would wane with time, not get worse.
“You put Rhys’s needs over mine!” You’re shouting now, something you never do, and Azriel bites back, “he’s my high lord - and yours.”
“That doesn’t mean he gets to keep you at his beck and call!” Your hands were running through your hair, unable to have the same argument again and again.
“That’s exactly what it means.”
“Oh so was it Rhys’s beck and call to push our wedding back three separate times?”
He whirls around at you, pointing, “That’s not fair and you know it.”
“Three times is not fair! It’s like you don’t even want it!”
His silence to your accusation rings through your ears. A damning, deafening silence.
You count to ten in your head, and he hasn’t made a sound, only looking at the ground.
His lack of words echo through your mind, even as his hands reach out to you, his desperate pleadings of “I-” and “baby” falling on deaf ears.
“I’m glad to see where we stand.”
You begin to turn, but stop yourself.
“When I told Nesta our wedding was delayed again, she told me if you really wanted it, really wanted me, you’d suggest we just run off and get married like Rhys and Feyre did.”
You take a shaky breath, “but you never did.”
You step back from him, unable to look him in the eye, unable to do much of anything, except retreat from your shared bedroom, softly shutting the door behind you.
Azriel stands in the now empty room, your footsteps ceasing down the hall but continuing in his mind. Every second he stands there, the further you become. He starts to move, starts to pick up his feet, his shadows urging him to go, go, go.
You can fix this, they tell him. Go, now.
His thoughts are broken up by Rhys’s voice, a smooth sound at such odds with the chaotic edges of his thoughts.
Az, I need you.
Azriel doesn’t even ask if it can wait. You’ll understand. He’s sure of it. He can fix things when he comes home. Rhys just needs him right now, he can help him out, then he can talk to you.
He scrawls a quick note on the table for you to find before retreating into his shadows.
He returns home a few hours later, his assistance speeding up Rhys’s needs. He stops to grab you your favorite flowers, a book you’ve been eyeing, and a necklace he’s had his eye on in the shop for ages.
The necklace gives him pause, as he realizes he first saw it eight months ago, its shine reminding him of your eyes.
Had it really been eight months?
He kept telling himself he was going to buy you the necklace for a special occasion, but so many have slipped by without his acknowledgment this past year.
Gods, he thinks, did he even celebrate your birthday?
Surely he hadn’t gotten that caught up in his work.
Had he?
The streets are quiet as he makes his way back to your shared home. He thinks over the past year and how he hardly saw you, and when he did, he often left not soon after seeing you.
He opens the door, the house eerily silent following your fight earlier. He deserved your silence. He couldn’t tell you how scared he was to marry you, tethering your soul to his for the rest of your lives.
You, who was so kind and so loving, shackled to him for eternity. He knew the insecurities were ridiculous, that you loved him with every part of yourself.
But that didn’t stop the self-hatred from oozing out of him every moment.
He hadn’t been there for you this past year. He had let his own need for approval overshadow your needs.
He groans, needing to find you so he can fix things. He walks through the house, not even realizing the book he’s carrying is a duplicate to the one sitting on the coffee table.
He starts really thinking, trying to remember the last time he had touched you, kissed you, held you.
Too long, he realizes, as he’s made his way through the whole house without a sign of you. A shadow wraps around his wrist, pulling him into the kitchen. He finds the note he had left earlier still on the table, but you had scrawled a second message underneath. Five words that break his resolve, forcing him to his knees. Your handwriting so clear, save for the splotched ink, wet from tears.
I wouldn’t marry me either.
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dr3c0mix · 10 months
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umm is it possible to get a yandere! male!siren x shy!gn reader?
Fish Bait
Yandere!Siren x GN Reader
CW: Kidnapping, assault, minor stalking, murder, thalassophobia maybe?
🌊 You are quite shy when it came to talking to people. You found the whole 'socializing thing' a bit overwhelming considering how rough and loud the rest of the people in your academy was.
🌊 You much preferred staying by the shore with a nice book or drawing book to enjoy the sound of the waves with. The ocean breeze and wailing of seagulls never failed to relax you.
🌊 One day, you heard the strange sound of splashing by the tide pools along the more rocks area of the shore. You thought it was a fish or some other animal that got stuck in one of the pools after the tide retreated and got up to help it out.
🌊 But what you saw was no animal, well, half animal. In one of the pools was a man with the lower half of a fish, his scales glistened wondrously as it splashed in the water.
🌊 The man looked at you with wide eyes and froze. You put your hands up to show you meant no harm.
🌊 "Please! Spare me! I just want to go home!"
🌊 "Calm down! I won't hurt you!"
🌊 He shook with fear as your hands drew closer to him.
🌊 You then pulled him up from the pool and carried him to the sea, he stares at you as you gently lowered him unto the water.
🌊 As soon as his tail was submerged in the sea, he swam out of your grasp and went a distance away from you, part of his head peeking out of the water as his red eyes looked at yours.
🌊 "Well...safe travels.." You mutter, wading back to shore, but the merman peeks his mouth out the water and shouts to you.
🌊 "You're not going to ask anything in return?"
🌊 You look back. "Uhm..no, I'm fine, thanks anyway.."
🌊 "Hmm, you know...you can come with me to my home. I'll grant you the power to breathe under water and you can enjoy the treasures I have there. What do you say? It's the least I can do for what you've done for me!"
🌊 "Nah, I'm good. Be safe though, I heard theres pirates that hunt merfolk nowadays..." You continue your way to shore but the merman swims quickly to your side.
🌊 "Don't you want to be rid of those insolent fools you call schoolmates? I can give you a life people only dream of!"
🌊 "I'm not really..interested..."
🌊 "...You're not?"
🌊 "Yeah..."
🌊 "...Oh..uh..ok...wow-um..well, bye I guess..." The man stutters before sinking his head back into the water.
🌊 You sigh, that was some encounter. You doubt you'd run into something like that again...
🌊 Boy howdy you were wrong.
🌊 You'd spot the strange boy again and again, always hiding back behind the rock or piece of driftwood he was watching you from.
🌊 Sometimes you'd also find trinkets and beautiful stones laid on the shore. You never took them though; you didn't want to take something someone probably lost. The merman would grumble to himself every time you ignored his baits.
🌊 You'd also see him again trapped in the pools, feigning sorrow that poor little him got stuck again during another low tide. What ever shall he do?
🌊 Your days would go on like this, the merman desperately trying to lure you into the sea but to no avail due to your shy and polite nature.
🌊 Him basically stalking you turned to him directly talking to you and trying to get you to go with him in the water.
🌊 "Oh dear, I've been stuck at this reef for ages! I just can't get out! Could you help me please? I promise not to drown you!"
🌊 "No thanks, I'm on the last chapter of my book..."
🌊 "My, my, it's so lonely in the ocean, not a playmate in sight, come down with me so we can really get to know each other yeah?"
🌊 "I don't really wanna get my clothes wet..."
🌊 What you thought was a potentially dangerous creature of the sea became a whiny, attention-seeking drama queen.
🌊 Eventually, you'd learn his name is Caspian. He gave up a bit on trying to lure you and settled on making small talk with you.
🌊 Most of your conversations would revolve around your cultures, how you two lived compared to eachother.
🌊 "So those silver things with teeth aren't combs? Interesting...tell me more!"
🌊 He more or less looked up to you because of the knowledge you'd tell him, even though it was all basic things ever human knows, but he wasn't a human so, I guess it's alright.
🌊 He'd try to crawl onto shore to see what you were reading or drawing. You'd have to scoot away from him because he was dripping wet, and you didn't want your paper to get soiled.
🌊 Please read to him! He loves it when you read out loud the books you bring!
🌊 Life seemed pretty content with you having a friend to talk to, one who's not judgmental of your quiet personality.
🌊 That was until one day, you heard laughing and shouting from your usual spot.
🌊 You saw your classmates, waist deep in the water trying to drag Caspian to the shore, the merman snarling and biting the air around him angrily as the bullies degrade and laugh at his attempts to wriggle out of their grasp.
🌊 "Look at this, boys! With this ugly thing we can buy the whole pub if we wanted to!"
🌊 "H-hey! Leave him alone!" You shouted, dropping your things as you ran to help your friend, but one of them punched you with in the face and grabbed you, about to hit you again.
🌊 "What? You're gonna let this siren kill everyone that comes to this beach? God you're dumb! No wonder why you have no friends!"
🌊 He was about to give another blow when you both heard a shrill cry from the ocean.
🌊 The water pooled with crimson as only the splashing of limbs can be seen form the shore, cries and gurgles are heard from the writhing gore. Your classmate rushes into the water to save his friends before the violent splashing stops and the red patch of bloody water extends towards him and around him until you see him get yanked below into the water, a splash of a fish tail verified in your mind that it was Caspian.
🌊 You could feel your heart pounding as you see the siren lift its head from the water, his blood red eyes staring at you again with razor sharp teeth bared.
🌊 "P-please...don't hurt me..I didn't lead them to you I swear!" You cried as he crawled to your shivering form.
🌊 You held your breath as he pulled you in a wet hug, your clothes getting stained by the salty, bloody water.
🌊 "Oh my darling~ I know you would never hurt me~ But we're not safe here anymore..I fear I'll have to take you somewhere safer...somewhere away from those disgusting creatures."
🌊 You couldn't even react before you were pulled into the water forcefully, you kicked and swam all you could to get him to let go of you, but soon enough, your whole body was under the water. The only thing that was left of you were your things by the sand, and bubbles that rose to the surface before stopping.
🌊 "You'll be safe here my love, my most wonderful treasure~"
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this one was by far one of my favorite bois ive written, he's so mhmhmghghghmmmhmhmmhhh
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sharkorok · 2 months
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ooo u want me so bad
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or…grumpy!enha being in luv w u
requested: nope
cw/genre: cursing, grumpy enhypen, fluff, humor, crack-ish, fem!reader, non-idol au, I wrote this during a zoom class, not proofread fuck it we ball, one joke about reader getting jumped?? anyways lmk if anything else should be tagged hehe
a/n: this was inspired by @macahoons grumpy enhypen texts that I just adored!!! Such a cute trope <3
•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•
heeseung
-he’s the basketball team captain, always idly boasting about his talents and loves being first place
-the only exception is you.
-he will never admit it but he absolutely lets you win every time you find him at the basketball court and u challenge him to some dumb scoring game where u see how many baskets u each can get
-“OMG HI HEESEUNG!! :3” when u find him at the basketball court and he sighs but he’s trying not to scream at how cute u r lowkey
-ur all giggly when u keep beating him “hee r u even trying?” “I’m just having a bad day don’t even” like he isn’t completely distracted by the way you look when ur grinning at him
-“I think I can take ur place as basketball team captain!” “In ur dreams??” but he’d gladly give it up if you would keep smiling like that
-insists on walking you home from the court because “I’m not gonna be held responsible for you getting jumped”
-and the next time you catch him on the basketball court it happens all over again! <3
jay
-you can’t even finish saying “I’m cold” before his jacket is over your shoulders and he’s scolding you for not being prepared
-sitting down and your skirt is riding up? his uniform blazer is over your lap and he’s shaking his head
-“what would you do without me??” “do you want your jacket back then , jay?” “…no”
-while it’s also because he cares about ur wellbeing, he also just really likes the sight of you wearing his clothes and you smelling like his cologne
-you literally walk into the room and he’s immediately “y/n you need to buy a thicker jacket you’re gonna get sick” not even a good morning or anything…
-“don’t tell people ur wearing my jacket I don’t want them to get the wrong idea 🙄” but lowkey he wouldn’t mind at all
-gets so (internally) giggly when u sink into his jacket because it’s chilly
-finds excuses u give u his clothes at this point …the tiniest piece of lint on ur shirt and he’s handing you his blazer
-“u can keep it ig”
jake
-gets you tiny gifts and acts like he just randomly found them
-he totally went out of his way to find you two matching keychains but he doesn’t wanna admit that
-“y/n I just randomly found your favorite seasonal pastry. no big deal. don’t thank me.”
-BUT HE ALSO KEEPS EVERY GIFT U GET HIM OMGEEE, he has a whole area on his desk dedicated to notes, trinkets, stickers, if you drew on his paper he’ll tear the section off so he can keep it LOL
-will never admit that. to anyone. but gets pressed if you give gifts to anyone else because that’s his y/nnie!! giving HIS gifts to some rando!! D: the cruelty!!
-gets sooo dramatic if he doesn’t get at least a little doodle he’s texting you like you killed a man
-one time his friend asked if he could borrow a pencil and he was like yea man sure and then realizing it was a pencil YOU!! gave him he snatched it back so fast trust
-he’s so cutie patootie but internally…4 now…
-wishes he could get over himself and kiss you all over when you shyly present a little plush toy you won at a claw game he’s RAHHHHH !!!
-for now he’ll stick to “thanks 😒”
sunghoon
-he’s really protective over you me thinks
-but he’ll be really quiet about it, maybe a girl makes you upset and he sees and he’ll “accidentally” knock over her bottled water on her notes, a guy is talking shit about you and sunghoon is squaring up in the courtyard no questions asked
-“sunghoon u dont have to protect me” “it’s not about you” even though it’s totally about you and he will die defending your honor
-one time on your walk out of school a tree branch poked you and u were all like “oh owie : o” and he was following behind before GLARING the shit out of that tree branch…
-another time this guy made a degrading comment about you and sunghoon managed to find receipts on him cheating on his gf and posted it on the school newsletter…cuz he’s silly like that <3
-honestly it’s a little scary the lengths he’ll go for you and still refusing to admit he’s doing it for you
-he’s not really good at comforting you when you cry, so he’ll make sure to protect you from anything that could make you cry
sunoo
-he’ll always listen to you
-if someone said “sunoo can u go grab me a drink from the vending machine” he looks at them like they’re insane but if YOU’RE asking??? he’s sprinting down the hallways
-“it’s literally just because ur lips get all chapped when your dehydrated don’t get an ego,” while he’s handing you like…water purified in Antarctica sourced from glaciers with a little paper umbrella
-even smaller things, he prioritizes your advice
-“guys should I have hot pot or panera for lunch?” and a rando will go, “panera!” and hes dead silent but you go “oh you should totally get hot pot!!” and he’s basically booking a reservation
-probably “accidentally” books a reservation for two and forces you to come since “it’s a waste of table space” if no one else does lol
-also if you don’t like someone he doesn’t like them either
-“sunoo are u friends with Ria?” “shes okay” “she said my makeup looked bad today :(“ and sunoo will act like he dgaf
-but next time you bring her up he scoffs and is all, “why even bother crying about her? she’s not worth your time and she’s annoying anyways” even though he’s never talked to this girl
-tldr ur word > anyone else
jungwon
-always speaks highly of you
-never to your face but he’ll always defend you when necessary, or speak up for you, or just praise you LOL
-“y/n actually scored higher than you, so idk why you’re bragging so loud” to some rando kid talking about test scores lmao
-or “y/n doesn’t like that snack get her another” when your friends are debating how to surprise you
-ur name is always in his mouth but positively LMAO
-brushes it off if you take note of this and says “people are just exaggerating, I barely talk about you, don’t get it twisted >:T” but everyone knows he’ll take any chance he can get to praise you
-“y/n is better tho” and everyone’s like?? who asked??
-it’s endearing but he doesn’t even notice it, he just is proud of you in every shape and form and since he can’t really express it around you he has to project it anywhere else he can hehe
-“jungwon do you think my hair looks okay?” says hee, looking for an actual answer. “y/n’s hair is nicer” responds jungwon, not missing a beat.
-“did you guys know y/n got a 100? isn’t she smart? don’t tell her I said that.”
niki
-does things for you without you asking and then acts like it’s a habit
-it is definitely not a habit for him to run out of his seat to pull out your chair for you, but he insists he literally does it for everyone (he doesnt)
-opens your capped drinks before handing them to you, stops you suddenly to tie your shoelaces, sends you photos of notes if you missed a day..
-“y/n you’d literally be hopeless without me” but he’d be hopeless if anyone else helped you because it’s his job!!
-it makes him feel special when he gets to do so many acts of service for you, for some reason he doesn’t mind running errands or whatnot, he’d much rather he be the one who does it than anyone else
-“y/n u forgot a hair tie today?? ur lucky I brought one” knowing damn well he brought it specifically for you ☹️☹️ cutie
-if the train is full you don’t even have to ask and he’ll let you take his seat “y/n you have weak legs, you need to sit”
-he secretly loves being someone you can rely on, no matter how much he denies it <3
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volensnolenss · 3 months
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“𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄, 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓?”
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𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: he has no other choice when you’re silent and look so pretty;
𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽: nsfw!mdni, reader is 18 and Gojo is 30, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, teasing, praise, he calls you ‘baby, sweetheart, little girl’ and etc;
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“Who is she?” You walked down the steps and watched the woman leave the house. You stared at Gojo, who was reluctantly sorting through the papers.
“What’s that? Is my little girl jealous?” You unwillingly approached him, and he laughed at you and at the same time pacified your suspicion by stroking your back.
You were wearing a damn short milk dress with a satin bow on the chest. The fabric of your outfit was thin enough for him to feel your soft and delicate skin that hides underneath.
“Yes, I'm jealous. And you still haven't answered my question.” You gave in to his power and sat comfortably on his lap, lifting the fabric even higher, giving him a view of your hips.
Your appearance is the epitome of youth and charm. Gojo can't help but look at you, his eyes fall limply down, looking at you and you know it perfectly well. He is so lucky to see such a sweet girl like you every day and wake up in the morning in your arms.
“She was in the same class with me.” You ignored his words and looked at him sullenly anyway. Gojo's hand gently rested on your thigh, stroking under your dress, “Baby, you love me, right?” he squeezed your thigh with one hand and played with the satin ribbon on your chest with the other.
You were silent because of your stubborn nature, although you love him with all your heart, especially his caresses and the way he treats you.
“You can stay quiet all you want” He lifted you up in his arms, “But silence doesn't last forever.” You got your way by pulling his trigger, smiling slightly at his phrase.
And he likes to be fooled by your words. You're so sly and so charming at the same time that Gojo can't do anything about it.
“Satoru, it’s too big!” He plunges only his tip into your wet cunt, but already forces you to whimper under him, “Shh, sweetie, you’re not going to upset me?” He continued to slowly penetrate you, which made you sense every inch of his cock, “You are as always my good and little girl. Only you can make me feel great.” Gojo whispered in your ear how he’s going to fuck you so much that you would be pleased and you would beg him to do that several times, exchanging your principle for this pleasure.
He is blown away by the way his cock thrusts against your wet walls, you hug and take Satoru so pleasantly that he is ready to spend the whole night just on you.
“I-I can’t- mhm Satoru!” You whimpered at how deliciously he hits the very bottom of your pussy, and a pleasant tingling gradually builds up in the bottom of your stomach, “Sorry but you’re so pretty when you’re crying” With his thumb, Gojo carefully wipes the tears from your cheek, looking at your shiny long eyelashes and a look asking for as much as possible.
“And now it's your turn to answer the question.” His hand squeezed between your shaking thighs and his finger lazily drew circles on your clit. Gojo knows that he is ruining you with this, but to see you, completely carried away by your pleasure, start to smoke out what he wants to hear is something that will satisfy his inner demon even more.
“Yes, yes, yes love you so mu-uch” You meow under him, reaching your peak, squeezing his cock. How Gojo likes to turn you into a wet whining mess of a sweet and cold-blooded girl, seemingly indestructible at first glance.
“That’s it, sweetheart. I know that my dick makes your head dizzy.” You moan with bliss, arching your back like a cat, feeling like a vertebra and tightly wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling Gojo as close to you as possible.
“You make it so great-” He spreads your legs wider, “I know, it’s too much but have a little patient, angel. Fuck- I’m close.” his pace becomes terribly sharp and aggressive, he pushes into your poor tight pussy even deeper, making sure that your walls completely encircle his large cock, he cum, trying to completely fill you and so that not a single drop flows out in vain.
You moan softly when he pulls away from you, leaving you without a feeling of pleasant fullness.
He looked at you like a painting he created himself: You try your best to press your hips together so that his cum doesn't leak out of your aching pussy, but he grins at you “Nah, you're doing wrong” and Gojo spreads your leg again and with his long fingers fuck it back, “Satoru…”
He grins and slowly removes his fingers from your core. “Baby, you did so well.” He calmed your trembling legs, leaving kisses on the places where he held you tightly. “Have I exhausted you that much?”He cooed to you, getting close to your face, brushing the wet hair off your forehead.
“It's a pleasant tiredness.” He laughed, but you were so lazy to argue when Gojo caressed your emaciated body so gently that you just didn't say anything.
He lay comfortably on his side next to you, stroking you, tracing the curves of your body Satoru's lips clung to your temple “I can conclude that only my cock can get you to talk.”
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periprose · 10 months
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Arachnid Anxiety
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You're Spider-Woman, and you've been tasked with babysitting Mayday. Maybe you have a bit of stress that you need to vent about, and Hobie comes along quite conveniently for that purpose.
Genre: Fluff, reader having anxiety, Hobie giving her advice, very cute, reader is a Jessica Drew variant, perhaps mutual pining if you squint, takes place during the movie but before Miles arrives to the Society, terrible british slang attempts (sorry Hobie :'))
Word Count: 2.4k
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Babies are hard to wrangle when they’re crawling up walls.
Of course, Peter B. Parker said that he needs a nap, just this once, and he needs someone to watch over Mayday while he sneaks away into the sleeping pods in the Spider-Society-System. Sometimes he and MJ don’t get sleep for days at a time, so you get it.
But Mayday is so curious, and you find yourself having to pull her prying hands away before she inadvertently tampers with things around Miguel’s labs and causes either a mass outage or a explosion or Miguel’s wrath. You understand why Peter is a little exhausted.
She’s a very cute baby, though, and you can’t help but coo at her as she clambers off the wall into your arms. 
“Who’s a good Spidey? Who’s gonna be the best of us?” You shake her up and down and she giggles, wrapping her arms around you. 
You instinctively flinch, feeling your Spider-Sense go off.
“Large statement to make. But I see where you’re coming from.” Spider-Punk comes up from behind you, and you turn to him. “She’s definitely punk.”
“Hey, don’t go claiming someone else’s kid as one of your own.” You joke, and Hobie scowls as he pulls off his mask.
“Don’t believe in claims. Or labels, for that matter.” He scratches his hair, looking effortless as he ever does, and you roll your eyes. “She is… who she is. Forgive me for using a descriptive word, Spider-Woman.”
“I get it.” You hold Mayday as she squeals at the sight of Hobie, and she motions in an uppy-uppy motion. She wants to be held by him, but he ignores her.
You never quite know how to feel about Hobie Brown. The Amazing Spider-Punk is revolutionary, known for being better than just his words– he holds himself to the very essence of anarchy. He practices what he preaches.
But you can’t quite get a read on the guy. You don’t know if he’s pulling your leg– or taking the piss as he would say– when he gives his bouts of advice while somehow simply being amazing through it all. He somehow knows what to say but he also isn’t the most comforting, and that in itself makes you drawn to him. He just happens to be kind of rough around the edges, and it’s because of that you know he truly means what he says. 
No sugar-coating, ever.
But you hate yourself, because you’ve somehow managed to fall for him. 
It’s not uncommon for Spideys to fall for each other. Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy. But you know this is the one time it just wouldn’t end well for you.
You can already hear Hobie’s comments if he ever found out. He’d probably rebuke you even though you’d never try anything. Tell you he doesn’t feel that way and you’re delusional for potentially thinking that he would ever tie himself down. Spiders are meant to be swinging free and all that.
Even worse, he just happens to be beautiful. You’re positive that if Hobie wasn’t so anti-everything he would have stuck with being a runway model. His face is molded in a distinctive way that has you trying to catch his glance, even if he only looks at you with nonchalance, completely unbothered, not a hint of chemistry in his eyes.
It is with great displeasure that you find yourself wanting his bored attention anyways.
And so you’ve been swallowing your crush for the greater part of a year now. You’re sure it will pass like all things do.
Pavitr, as much as you love him, has told you many times about the “chemistry” between you and Hobie– and you have told him every time to fuck off. Not in an actual harsh way, because again you can’t help but love the guy, but because you don’t need false hope.
You’re just Spider-Woman. Another red-and-yellow suited variant of Jessica Drew, you might as well just be another Peter Parker. You know that’s not how you’re supposed to think of yourself, but it’s just how it is. Canon events brought you here, and according to Miguel, it’s not something you chose– you just happened to be there at the right time and place. You’re no Jess, who comes in on her motorcycle, raging heat and excitement on her toes– you are one of the many, instead of being exceptional like the few.
You’re not like Hobie, who is as far as you know, one of a kind.
“What’s on your mind, Spider-Woman?” Hobie asks as he picks through random tech on the desk in Miguel’s lab, taking what he feels is useful for whatever it is he does with the stuff. He’s never used your name, because he doesn’t know it.
You and a few other Spider-People have chosen to stay anonymous, for different reasons, and only Miguel and Margo know who you really are. Hobie has told you before that that’s pretty cool– he only chose to give up his name because it was easier to get along with people that way. Hobie knows there’s power in people.
“Just babysitting. Obviously.” You motion to Mayday, who takes this moment to thwip out a web and swing away from you– but you’re faster and you grab her back into your arms, and she pouts.
“Nah, nah. I mean that sour expression upon your lovely little visage, imbecile.” He pokes your masked cheek, and you find yourself blushing but pulling away from him. Hobie is like that– overly familiar and no real sense of space because he doesn’t care.
“It’s not lovely.” You retort, fully convinced of it because he has never seen your face, only your incredulous expression through the eyes of your mask. 
You think that Hobie is again being sarcastic about your unknown appearance, and because his back is facing yours as he searches through random shelves now, you don’t catch how his face frowns at your response.
“Disagreements about your anonymous-but-surely beautiful face aside– not that looks matter, mind you– you’re clearly miffed about something.” Hobie turns and crosses his arms, and it’s with a little embarrassment and comfort that you want his advice. Even if it’s kind of to do with him.
“Well, I guess, uh… lately I’ve just been feeling kind of down. Like what’s the point of all this?” You bite your lip, knowing Hobie’s feelings on nihilism. “I don’t mean like nothing in life matters, Hobie. I mean more that I don’t matt– I don’t… anyways, I feel useless. I don’t have anything special about me, I don’t really bring anything to the Spider-Society that wasn’t already brought.”
"Whoa whoa whoa. Nah, lady, you've got your priorities all twisted." Hobie pulls your arms, bringing you kind of closer to him, and rests his hands on your shoulders, making you listen. "This inner hatred stuff– that sick urge to feel shame and then blast it inside of yourself, all that repression, yeah? It's a crock of shit."
"Huh?" You and Mayday both peer up at him. You behind your mask, and she with her crocheted one. 
Hobie picks up Mayday, finally giving into her wishes to be held by him, and she immediately giggles. There’s a subtle smile on his face that warms him to you a little.
"It might feel good in the moment. It might even feel revolutionary." Hobie scowls, and scratches his jaw. "It's worthless. Notice, Spider, I didn't call you worthless. The very action is garbage, a visceral thing that brings no productive value– that's what they want you to feel."
"Ah, because then I'll never fight against the establishment, right, Hobie? I'll be too busy fighting myself." You say mockingly, taking on a fake-pretentious-Cockney accent, mimicking him, but Hobie gives you a chill look and nods.
"Now you're getting it."
"Aw." You slump and slouch and sit on the counter full of gadgets and gizmos next to him. "I know you're right, but… don't you ever get people getting mad at you?"
"You've lost me."
"Like… being so responsible." You roll your eyes as Hobie snickers and whispers the spider-mantra you all know so well. "Or just living by your own ideology so… efficiently. It's almost like a slap in the face to the rest of us Spiders. We don’t know how to cope, and here comes along Spider-Punk with all his personal assurance that even if things aren't alright, he'll make it alright for himself."
"Oi, trust me, it wasn't all that easy." Hobie sniffs and sits down next to you, holding Mayday close and then letting her go as she crawls onto the wall in front of you. "You really think I haven't had a bad day? I haven’t had my moments of self doubt, huh?”
“Uh… well. When you put it like that, it does sound kind of crazy.” You admit, and nudge him with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean any harm, Hobie. I just feel so… inadequate.”
“Just stop.” He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and you feel that yet again, he’s somewhat unreadable. “Don’t think those things. You’re not inadequate.”
“But I–”
“Stop.” He grasps your hands, and squeezes them tightly in his own, and you wonder if Hobie has ever looked this seriously at you, his eyes soft yet firm with affection.
You’re in trouble, you think. Your heart is pounding and you’re really glad he can’t see your face.
“I don’t think you know how important you are.” He utters so quietly, in that very deep voice that has you leaning in to hear him better. “You’re not nothing, Spider-Woman. You’ve done a lot of good for your Earth-257, I’m sure, and that makes you something special. Like the rest of us– you’re kind of irreplaceable, right?”
“I guess.”
“Not ‘I guess.’” Hobie punches the side of your arm and you pretend to say ow, laughing a little. “If you didn’t exist, we’d all be poorer for it. Peter couldn’t ask you to chill with his baby, and I couldn’t be here talking your ear off.”
“But I’m not– I don’t really compare to her, you know?” You say without thinking, and then immediately squint at your own stupidity. 
“Who’s her?” Hobie is wary of how your expression is shifting. “Stacy?”
“Uh, no.” You inhale, exhale, and then decide it’s time to get it over with. “Jess.”
“Jess? Jessica Drew, huh?” Hobie smirks a little. “You don’t want to be adopted by her, do you?”
“More complicated than Gwen’s weird fantasy.” You shift on your spot on the counter, and pull off your mask after a minute of tribulations. “I’m… also Jessica Drew.”
You feel incredibly shy as Hobie takes in your face, wary of his every move as you feel yourself sweating, and he grasps your face gently, peering into your eyes and taking a look at your features, as if he’s really trying to remember them.  
“Huh.”
“What is it?” You say a little too defensively, and he shrugs. 
“You do have a lovely visage, you silly little sod. Even if it’s completely different from Jess’ face.” He laughs as you shove him away, covering your face in your hands. “No, don’t do that.”
He’s tracing your jaw, and he murmurs. “Maybe you could use a few piercings… a tat or two… ever thought about it?”
“No.” You shut your eyes. “I’m not cool like you.”
“Oh, shut it.” He leans in imperceptibly closer, and you blink, eyes open. Maybe Pavitr had a point that Hobie and you have something, because there’s not really another explanation for that look in his eyes. “You’re plenty cool, Jessica Drew. It was just a shit suggestion of mine.”
You think Hobart “Hobie” Brown is sweeter than you previously thought. You have half a mind to tell him about your feelings.
You and Hobie both look up, Spider-Senses tingling, and sure enough, Mayday is cooing from the ceiling– she leaps into your already waiting arms. She giggles at your expression.
Oh well, you think. There’ll be some other time to work up the courage to tell him.
Hobie half-smirks at her. “Way to interrupt us, Mayday.”
She looks at him all confused, tilting her head in a “huh?” motion, and you feel the same way, not entirely sure what Hobie meant by that and not willing to assume either.
He answers you by pulling your face in a sudden, swift motion, connecting his lips to yours, and in between the two of you, Mayday shrieks and laughs. She crawls off to the side of you, no longer smothered between your torsos.
Hobie is weirdly insistent– you feel like he’s been wanting to do this for a while, maybe longer than the length of your conversation (you don’t know if this is just a funny little fling for him, but you’re fairly sure it isn’t) and he’s a lot taller and lankier than you, so he really has to tower over you to reach your mouth better. He’s grasping your jaw and neck and the back of your head with a lot of intensity– you feel wildly dizzy when he pulls away.
“Uh.” Peter B. Parker is standing in front of you both, mouth wide open, and you look back at Hobie and he grins rather coolly, not really giving a damn. It’s enough to make you snort. “Wait, who are you?”
“Oh. Spider-Woman from Earth 257.” You remember Peter has never seen your face, either. “Jessica Drew?”
“Right, right.” Peter raises his hands in a whoop-de-doo motion, like he should’ve known that. “Nice to know what you look like behind the mask. Not nice to know that you’ve been avoiding your babysitting duties. Why are you two fooling around like prepubescent children? What happened to responsibility?”
“Ahhhhh, please, Peter. Live a little.” Hobie stands up, his full length of height drawing him to about the same height as Peter if not an inch taller. He picks up Mayday and hands her off to him. “Let’s not act as if you and MJ weren’t shacking up in the sleeping pods last week, yeah? Does Miguel need to know about how irresponsible you were?”
You think he’s kidding, but Peter pales and you clap your hands over your mouth, trying not to laugh. Miguel would absolutely throw a fit if he found that out.
“Uh…” Peter swallows. “At least that’s not an interdimensional tragedy-in-the-making like you two.”
“There’s no rules against that, I don’t think.” Hobie shrugs. “And if there are, fuck them. Miguel doesn’t know it all.”
“He really is punk to the very end.” Peter groans and leaves out to the hallway with Mayday. 
Hobie flashes a smile at you as he sits back down, ruffling your hair.
3K notes · View notes
breadbrobin · 2 months
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So i saw of a guy getting lipstick kisses on him and im just obssessed with it. I want it with Luke but maybe we could have Luke put our lipstick on to mark us with kisses? Thanks for the lovely Luke fics ;3
revenge is best served red
luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians
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[fem!reader, from any cabin]
summary: little pranks are a great way to keep a relationship fun, and if they involve lipstick? well, neither of you are going to complain too much.
warnings: kissing, reader wears makeup (lipstick mostly stated), slightly suggestive content
word count: 786
(hiiii!! i love this request it’s so cute! thank you for the awesome request, i hope you like it!)
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one thing new campers often noticed about luke castellan were the lipstick stains on his collar and skin and the silver bracelet on his wrist, both a perfect match to your lips and your own wrist. he wore both with pride, always one to wear his heart on his sleeve and, well, your lipstick on his shirts.
you’d never tried to hide your relationship. how could you, after all, when luke stumbled out from behind your cabin with lipstick marks all over his face and you followed him not long later, makeup smudged and hair messy? that was a pretty good giveaway that you were together.
luke had always liked revenge. good, cold, sweet revenge. but you had never been a target. nope. never.
until he drew a heart with an ‘L’ in it on your cheek while you slept one night, and you went around camp as usual for three hours before you realised it was there. then all bets were off.
you wore your brightest, boldest lip looks, pressing kisses to his cheeks, to his hands to the corner of his mouth. he wore them with pride.
“you’re never embarrassed,” you’d whined to him one day.
he’d wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, smiling. “i’d never be embarrassed by you. how could i be?”
that had been enough for you to shut him up with more deep red kisses for a while.
revenge came to you one day though. cold and sweet.
you went simple. and cold. definitely cold.
a bucket of ice was tipped over luke just before he was set to start training, courtesy of you, of course. what you hadn’t expected, was getting chased by a soaked, cold, luke, and hugged tightly as the ice permeated through your clothes too. regardless, he admitted that you’d got him, and finally, you could relax. pranks had never been your strong suit anyway.
as time went on, all of that took a backseat. more than anything else, you were just… happy.
luke was, first and foremost, a picture perfect boyfriend. always opening doors for you, pressing kisses to your cheeks and lips, carrying your bags and always respecting you. but he was so annoying sometimes.
like now, as he sat on your with your makeup bag in front of him, tipped out onto your sheets.
you were sitting on the floor with a colouring book as he sorted through your products, studying some of them and swatching them on his hand and wrist. you weren’t quite sure was he was doing—you had your back to him—but whatever it was was making you slightly nervous. he hummed every now and then, either in confusion or satisfaction, you weren’t quite sure. that was the only thing that broke up the silence in the otherwise empty cabin.
“hey, babe,” he said suddenly.
“yeah?” you didn’t look back at him.
“what colour lipstick do you think would suit me best?”
you frowned and turned around, then covered your mouth with a giggle. “oh my gods.”
luke’s lips were painted in a deep red, messy and over-lined more than kylie jenner. he was smiling goofily. “what?”
“you look like the joker. and not the cool one.” you giggled, hand still over your mouth.
“so not this colour?” he grinned.
you shook your head, lowering your hand with a laugh. “no, not that colour.”
“hm…” he looked in a handheld mirror and pouted dramatically. “guess i’ve got to take this off then.”
you were about to reach for your makeup wipes when his lips landed on yours. you were confused for a moment, before you couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss as the lipstick rubbed off onto your lips and face.
he pulled away and smiled. “i see why you like doing that.”
“like doing what?” you asked breathlessly.
his thumb smeared the lipstick just below your lips slowly. “making such a mess.”
he kissed you again, slowly guiding you up and pushing your makeup aside so you were on your bed with him, then pushing you down gently so you were lying below him.
he peppered lipsticked kisses all over your face, eliciting giggles from you, and, when he finally pulled back, your face was more red and pink than anything else. he smiled down at you, his hand resting on your waist as he shifted his weight to the side. “yeah. i get it now.”
“i hate you.” you teased.
“yeah, i hate you too. but revenge is sweet. at least i’m not freezing you right now.” he grinned, his lips meeting yours again as you both laughed. you didn’t even mind that he was wasting your lipstick. with luke, nothing was a waste.
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p4p1l0nn · 1 month
Note
omfg i love your mark fics! i'm obsessed with him even more! *crying river* can i request a smut with mark where he just takes reader from behind? maybe him being impatient? i'll leave the rest to you 🫡
be good. be bad. just be.
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pairing: mark x fem!reader
content warning: 18+ cunnilingus, established relationships, mdni.
a/n: thank you love ♡ been in a writing slump lately, so updates might be slower than usual. i’ll get back to it soon. see you in the next piece!
you stand pressed against the wall, face buried into it, your eyes darting towards the door to your roommate’s room. the thought of getting caught adds an extra layer of excitement, igniting the fierce fire within you.
mark was behind you, pushing up your simple silk sleepwear dress. you pulled its front down to keep it out of his way. feeling his large hands on your thighs and hips, you pushed your ass out, letting out a moan that was unusual for you.
perhaps it was the breakfast effect or maybe mark’s just worked up.
you felt his fingers easing into the waistband of your underwear, a feeling that made you smile, given the fabric was starting to bother you anyway. your dress bunched up slightly as your fist tightened. mark seemed to have a knack for this; his touch felt almost magical. your underwear soon began to slowly glide off your hips.
you thought it would end up around your ankles, but mark gently nudged your foot to lift it out one at a time, allowing him to slide your panties away. you couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of mark carrying around a simple pair of black underwear. then again, it was mark.
suddenly, strong hands gripped your backside. you groaned, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. despite the initial embarrassment, your arousal surged as mark ran his thumb over your hole and then leaned in to use his tongue.
managing to free one hand from where it was bunched in your dress, you slid it over your stomach. after slightly wetting your fingers with your own arousal, you dipped them down to run over your clit.
mark’s tongue glided over your slit, and leaned back slightly to blow cool air on it. desperately, he spread your legs wider for easier access. slightly pulled your hips back, and diving straight back into it. his impatience knew no bounds; he didn’t care if you two were caught in the act right there in the hallway.
he circled his tongue, let his teeth graze the sensitive skin, and then returned to the slow licks that made you moan.
your fingers traced a path back to gather some of the wetness and drew it toward your clit again. you panted against the wall.
each hot and wet drag of his tongue made you tense, your muscles tightening. “oh fuck,” you called out, surprised as mark’s pushed into your cunt. “mark, baby, oh– fuck!” you clenched hard, which made him hum in return.
the vibration sent you over the brink, for a second you thought you saw stars because of how good he’s making you feel right now. your legs shook as you abandoned your clit.
mark leaned back to admire his masterpiece once more. red marks adorned your hips from his firm grip, and your arousal dripped between your thighs. he could do this all day. in fact, he planned to have a second round after you finished off. he loved it.
confused as to why he stopped, you instinctively pushed your ass towards him, eager to cum. “ah does my baby want to cum?” he asked, his hands returning to wrap around your hips, slightly tightening his grip, as he resumed eating you out.
your hand reached for the back of his head, urging him to go deeper. he responded by sliding his tongue inside you.
“i’m— i’m coming, oh f-fuck,” you cried out into the wall, trying to pull away. but the grip around your waist kept you in place as he continued to pleasure you.
whimpering, you squeezed your thighs to try to ease the intensity and waited until your breath is calm, your body slowly relaxing.
“you up for another go, baby? i’m still hard as a rock,” mark whispered, his voice heavy with arousal.
“yes, please,” you replied, breathless, as you reached for him again.
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asmosmainhoe · 3 months
Text
MC draws the brothers
im kinda shy to ask this but, can u make artist!mc drawing brothers and others and them reacting to it?(*´-`)
- @maiitski
Note: This was incredibly fun to write! I also only did the brothers, because I don't write for more than 7 characters in one post
Gender: neutral
Warnings: heavy language
Lucifer
You often draw him when he's working, because then he's absolutely still for hours
At first he doesn't exactly know what you're doing over there with your notebook. The first guess is some kind of study and you're simply looking for some peace and quiet to focus
Once he's done with the mountain of paperwork he walks over to you and glances over your shoulder
Oh wow. The portrait you drew of him looks fantastic and he nods proudly until he notices some special details
"Why are the spots under my eyes so dark?"
"Well, you've been working for hours now."
"I see..my hair looks so disheveled as well."
"You just really need some rest."
A portrait falls out of your notebook when you leave the room and he quickly hides it in one of his drawers. There is no way he won't treasure your hard work
Mammon
To say that it's difficult to draw a picture of the greedy demon is a complete understatement since he's in constant movements
The only time you catch him truly sitting still is when he's counting money after a long day of casino activities
"Look at what I won, MC! Hey, you're not even listenin'!"
"Sorry, Mammon. I didn't notice that you talked to me."
"What are ya doin' anyways, huh?"
His voice gets caught in his throat and he starts coughing violently. Partly to hide his embarrassment
"It l-looks pretty cool."
Translation: THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING HE HAS EVER SEEN
"I can get rid of it if you want me to."
"Are ya mad?! You can't just destroy a picture of the great Mammon! Give that to me."
Leviathan
By now it's routine for you to chill in his room to watch him play in the evening, but sometimes it does get a bit boring. Especially when he's playing a game that isn't your cup of tea
So you take out your notebook and start drawing whatever comes to your mind. This time it happens to be the envious third born
But you can't satisfy yourself with a normal portrait, no. You decide to draw him as if he's a character from the game he's currently obsessing over and proudly show him your work once you're done
You can watch Levi's soul leave his body in real time once he realizes that out of all the cool things in his room you drew him
"I-I can't believe you drew me! Me! It looks so good too! MC, I've got to have this! Please!"
I can see him roll around the room crying and screaming if you refuse to hand over the drawing
Satan
Once he loses himself in a book he turns into a freaking statue
Of course he has seen your drawings before and he absolutely adores them. There are several cat pictures from you hanging on his walls
But seeing you put his own features onto paper is a whole other thing
You manage to make him blush a little and chuckle in embarrassment as he inspects your work
"You're extremely talented. It almost looks real."
As Satan inspects your portrait an idea comes to his mind and a mischievous grin forms on his lips
"Do you perhaps take requests? I'd love for you to draw me tower over Lucifer. Preferably him cowering on the ground while I step on him."
"You know exactly that he will kill me if I do that."
"Oh, well. It was worth a shot."
Asmodeus
DRAW HIM LIKE ONE OF YOUR FRENCH DEMONS
Please, the moment he notices that you're drawing him he's going to strike poses left and right
"Let me fix the light real quick! Oh, I how do I look? Is my hair sitting correctly? Oh, why am I even asking? Of course it does!"
It's not the first time that someone either draws him or takes a picture of him, but with you it's special
Now you have to show him your entire notebook! He has to know if there are more portraits of him!
And there are. Most of them are him in an absolutely relaxed position and often times when he's not dolled up at all
"Why didn't you tell me? I would have gotten ready!"
"You looked the most beautiful in these moments. I didn't wanna disturb them- are you crying?"
"No! OF COURSE I AM!"
Beelzebub
Please, to him you're the most talented artist he has ever seen! And he doesn't hold back with that thought!
One time you drew food just for fun and he ate the entire paper, because it looked way too good. You have to admit that that's quite the high compliment
And Beel has such beautiful and drawable features so how couldn't you put that on a piece of paper?
"Can I see what you're doing?"
The hungry demon gets to lost in it that he's just silent for a very long time. It gets to a point where you worried that he might not like it
"I can throw it away if you want to."
"No, why? I love it."
He never really realized how good he looks until now
"Can I keep it?"
Belphegor
Our sleeping beauty over here is perfect to draw considering he sleeps so still that one might think he actually died
One time you don't even notice that he woke up from his nap and is wondering what you're so focused on
It's only when he leans over to get a peak inside your notebook. You quickly hide the drawings of him, but it's too late for that now. The damage is done and you brace yourself for his teasing
"Wow, you must really like me."
"Shut up."
"This is some Levi-level simping."
"I SAID SHUT UP!"
You guys wrestle over the notebook for a little while until he grows tired of it and lays down again with a yawn
"Fine. Keep your secrets. Your notebook is probably full with my face anyways."
"No."
"Next thing I will find out is that you have a shrine dedicated to me."
"You're such an ass."
"But a pretty one."
---
Masterlist
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captainfern · 4 months
Text
141Rugby!au [18+]
• Part Four - Greedy •
Captain John Price x fem!reader
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You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.
chapter summary - the captain confronts you about your relationships with his teammates. his reaction isn't what you expected lol.
rating - 18+
wordcount - 7.8k
chapter warnings - fem!reader, slow-ish burn [but not really cause ik you're here for the porn], body worship (price is literally obsessed with you fr), fingering, handjob, mentions of foursome/sharing, unprotected piv, sex in a car wooo, praise, multiple orgasms, tummy bulge?, price has a sir kink, strong language
disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3
Price is a flanker – provides support play, maintains possession of the ball, and is both fast and strong defensively. price is also the captain of the team, of course.
see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words
<- part three | part five ->
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After your little... encounter with Simon, he helped clean you up. He gave you a pair of his joggers– which were baggy, but you tied them tightly using the drawstring, and they worked just fine. He then helped (watched) you clean the cum and saliva off your face with a cocky smile resting on his lips. When you finally did shoo him out of your office, he snuck one more quick kiss to your lips, before disappearing out of the door.
Back at your desk, you lit your favourite smelling candle to permeate the air and hopefully eliminate as much of the smell of you and Ghost as you could. But ultimately, this was a physio's office. It's bound to have a lingering smell of sweat and body-odour from the players anyway, so hopefully no suspicion would be aroused.
You also opened your window just a sliver to allow a steady stream of cool air to enter the space. Because, as you sat at your desk, you couldn't help but feel warm. Warm, because your body was still alight with the feeling of Simon– his hands on you, this thigh between your legs, his cock in your mouth...
A heartbeat appeared between your legs, and you tossed your head back with a groan. Not now, for crying out loud. You ran your hands down your face, before trying to settle yourself comfortably in your chair. But it was hard to do so when you could still smell Simon's cologne in the material when you angled your head a certain way. Even over the sweetness of the candle, and the light smell of rain in the cool breeze, you could still smell him. And that made your stomach flip, your cunt leaking into your already drenched underwear.
It was unpleasant, but you had just one more appointment before a break. Then you could go home and get changed and hopefully ignore the smug look Simon'll give you all day. Great.
A soft knocking on your door drew you away from your thoughts, and you looked up in time to see Price poke his head in. He smiled warmly, eyes squinting as he entered your office, and you returned the smile as best you could as you quelled the twisting in your lower stomach.
"Morning, captain," you greeted, gesturing to one of the chairs sitting opposite the desk. "Have a seat."
"Morning, doc," Price said as he sat down, his hips immediately shifting in the chair as his legs spread, hands clasped over his lower stomach. You forcibly ignored the movement to stare intently at your computer screen. Price looked around your office. "This might be my first visit, actually."
"It sure is," you said. "And how are you feeling?"
Price's eyes were on you the second you spoke. "I'm feeling fine, thanks, doc."
"That's good..." You uttered, before spinning around in your chair to fish his file from the paper copies in the back. Once you found it, you slapped it open on your desk, skimming your eyes over it. "Okay, so it's a shoulder injury, right? Talk me through what happened."
Price pulled up the short sleeve of his right arm, exposing the joint of his shoulder. He also exposed the strong, curved muscles of his upper arm and the way the tendons flexed when he held it towards you for a better look.
"S'just something sore in the top here–" Price tapped his fingers against the curve of his shoulder just beside the bone. "Not sure what it is. I hit a tackle a bit hard last game, and it hasn't come right."
You nodded along, listening attentively. "Does it usually get better on its own?"
Price nodded. "Yeah, I just have a bath and I'm good as new. But this one's causing me a bit of strife these past couple'a days."
You scribbled a few things down on his file before standing up with a clap of your hands, gesturing to the medical table. Price got the hint, making his way over and perching himself on the edge, his feet still on the ground. Meanwhile, you grabbed a few things from the cabinetry nearby, and approached one he had settled.
"D'you mind taking his off?" You asked him, tugging at the material of his training shirt.
He chuckled, using his good arm to pull it up and over his head. "If you wanted me to strip, doc, you could've asked me earlier." He joked, finally pulling the rest of his shirt off and letting it sit on his lap.
You rolled your eyes. "Very funny."
Fucking hell.
You physically had to turn your head towards his shoulder, rather than allowing your eyes to rake down the expanse of his torso. Price was made up of thick muscle, not necessarily defined in taut lines, but in curves along his body. His pectoral muscles, the bulges in his biceps and forearms, the slight pudge in his stomach as he sat. His chest and abdomen was brushed with short, dark hair– slightly lighter than his facial hair, though– and your body had a genuine reaction at the dark happy trail disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Oh my god.
You shifted your body simply in the direction of his right arm and shoulder, using both of your hands to get a feel of the area. His skin was warm beneath your palms, and you couldn't help but feel slightly nervous at the way he watched you too. Gently, you squeezed and around the bone of his shoulder, then up along the ridge towards the junction of his neck. You pressed firmly to the muscles above the shoulder blade, and then trailed your fingers back down towards his collarbone.
"Any pain through here?" You asked as your hands moved, fingers pressing into the muscles just above the collarbone.
He shook his head. "Nothing too bad."
"Nothing too bad?" You echoed him through a question. "Price, you need to tell me if there's a bit of pain. I don't want you just ignoring it if it hurts."
Price spared a smile, and you found yourself liking the way his facial hair moved with his cheeks as his mouth curled upwards. Then you found yourself internally scolding yourself.
"S'just the space just below my shoulder, on my back–" Price tried to move to point with his sore arm, but he stopped with a subtle wince you picked up before the expression dropped.
"Okay, why don't you sit back down on this chair, captain?" You prompted, dragging the chair he was just on over to the medical table. You pointed to it again, and Price slipped off of the table and sat down in the chair.
At this angle, you could now easily access his back– the broad, rippled expanse of his back.
Get it together.
With gentle firmness, you pressed into the spot just below the shoulder joint, nearing the top of the armpit. You felt his muscles flex beneath the skin, and you immediately withdrew. When the pressure of your hands left, Price looked over his shoulder to see what you were doing.
"Do you have any muscle weakness at all asides from the obvious pain?" You asked, moving to Price's side and taking hold of his upper arm.
He watched you with calculating eyes as your fingers moved along the curves of his bicep muscles, up until just below his armpit, where you squeezed the muscles again, and he grit his teeth. You noted the reaction as he answered your question.
"No weakness, just pain," he told you. "And it get's a bit stiff too. When I, you know, keep it in a certain position for too long."
"Mhm, mhm..." You hummed in acknowledgement, moving behind him once more. You still had one hand on his bicep and with that hand, you carefully pushed his arm upwards. Your other hand lay flat against the back of his shoulder, feeling the movement of the tendons as you lifted his arm. "Does it hurt when you move it this way?"
You lifted his arm until it was parallel with his shoulder. He shook his head, but you could see the way his jaw clenched. You sighed to yourself, bringing his arm back down to his side and giving him a few supportive taps on the lower arm.
"You have to tell me when you're in pain, captain, or I can't help you." You told him.
Price sighed. "Fine, yeah, it's sore when you do that."
You smiled. "Thank you." Then, you pressed your hand flat to the shoulder again, and instructed him to hold his arm out forward. He did, and you felt the tendons pull and shift beneath your palm. You allowed him to settle while you rounded your desk and noted a few things down on your file.
Price cocked his head. "Is... are we done?"
"Almost," you said, looking up at him and smiling. "You can put your shirt back on."
"Oh, right..." Price grumbled, then slowly pulled his shirt back on. He did it with ease as you finished writing in your file, now sitting comfortably in your desk chair.
"So it seams you've just got some inflammation of your rotator cuff," you told him, looking up from your file and tapping the tip of your pen against it absentmindedly. "You don't have much muscle weakness, which is good, meaning it's probably not a tear in your tendons. I'd say the cuff's just a tad bruised, so it should heal up in no time."
"My rotator what?"
"Your rotator cuff. It's a bunch of tendons and ligaments that support your arm where it connects to your shoulder," you told him, pointing at your own arm for example. "It's a common injury to have the tendons get a bit bruised from a tackle, or from scrums and what not."
"Right, okay..." Price nodded at your words.
You smiled at him once more. "Do you have any questions?"
Price cleared his throat. "Uh, well, what's the healing time on this?"
"Oh, right. Well, because it's not a tear or anything major like that, it could just take a couple of weeks to get the pain sorted and for the tender ligaments to sort themselves out," you said. "All you need to do is rest it, apply ice every once in a while to reduce any swelling or pain, keep on top of anti-inflammatory and pain medication– oh that reminds me, I'll send an email to the doctor to prescribe you with the right stuff."
You moved to your computer now, beginning to curate your email. Across the desk, Price watched patiently, eyes on you the entire time. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Half way through writing the email, you looked over at him and met his gaze. Maybe you should just make conversation, since the weight of his stare was sending all sorts of nervousness into the pit of your stomach.
"How're the lads going, Price?" You asked with your eyes on him, before chickening out with the eye-contact and returning to the email you were supposed to me sending.
Price leaned back in the chair, hands clasped over his stomach once more. "Yeah, not bad, doc. We're on a bit of a win streak, which always makes things better, doesn't it?"
You laughed politely, and also genuinely– because you know it's true. Hell, Soap and Gaz wouldn't shut up about the number of tests they've one so far this season, and their egos seemed to shoot through the roof.
"It definitely does help," you told him. "And have the boys been behaving themselves? Johnny's always up to something, isn't he? And I can imagine Gaz would be much the same."
Price let his eyes wander across your face and briefly over the rest of your body too– well, what he could see above the desk, anyway. He hummed a response, a sure from the back of his throat, as his eyes skimmed over you. He tilted his hips in the chair, his clasped hands now resting on his lap.
"Not sure if those lads can behave themselves, if I'm being honest," Price laughed, shaking his head at memories of his boys. Then, his laughter flitted out and the heat of his gaze settled back over you like a veil. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip in thought, still leaning comfortably in the chair, the pain in his shoulder almost forgotten about. "What do you think, doc? Have they been behaving themselves?"
Perceptive, analytical as always, Price saw the way you shifted in your chair. He noticed the way some kind of expressive emotion flashed through your pretty eyes, and he picked up on the way the corners of your mouth twitched ever so slightly– a frown or a smile, he wasn't quite sure, but the movement had a surge of pride filling his chest.
His boys had been treating you well. He knew that, of course. Gaz had already told everyone about how he pursued you and how, like the perfect thing you were, let him. Price'd also heard about Soap's little adventures in wooing you as well, although slightly less graceful than the winger. Last but not least, he knew that Ghost wanted you too. He knew the number 8 had a plan to have you, just like Gaz and Soap did. And judging by the way you shifted in your seat, the way you had a slight unbalance in your walk and the (obvious) fact that you were wearing Ghost's joggers, Price knew the lads had been successful.
It wasn't so much of a game to Price as it was to the boys. Obviously, they all did genuinely care for you, and appreciate everything you did for them, but the chase of it all was way too fun to ignore. But with Price, he thought– no, he knew– that he didn't need to chase you around like a bunch of horny dogs. He didn't have to apply any sly tactics to get you to talk to him. He just had to be himself because, based on the way you reacted when he so much as glanced in your direction, he knew. He knew you wanted him, too.
"Have they been behaving themselves?" Price repeated, watching the way your fingers paused over the keyboard.
You took a deep breath and sent the email, before turning to face Price with as much courage as you could. Did he know? Fucking hell, how did he know? It was all so confusing– how on earth did Gaz, Soap, Ghost and now Price know just the right things to do to get you worked up? It was almost as though they were conspiring with each other.
Oh, wait a fucking second...
You felt embarrassment flare through you as you met the captain's eyes. He smiled calmly at you as your head flopped and you hid your face in your hands.
"Please don't tell me they told you..." You all but squeaked into your palms, with the hopes of shielding yourself from whatever comment Price was about to make.
Price released a low chuckle. "Told me what, sweetheart?"
Your body heated up at the term of endearment. What was wrong with you? Four fucking rugby union players? Are you serious?
"Don't make me say it," you groaned, finally moving your hands away from your face. "Oh, god, I am so fucking sorry. I know it's– oh my god, this is so embarrassing– I'm so sorry. I'll quit–"
"Woah, woah, woah, doc, calm down," Price said quickly, holding up his hands in a gesture for you to take it easy. "It's alright, I promise. It's okay."
You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as the heat of his gaze was almost too much for you. You squirmed in your seat, Ghost's joggers almost too hot against your legs. Your stomach was in knots.
"If... if you're referring to you and the boys' little... encounters, then yes, they have told me," Price said softly. "And– listen to me, doc– it's okay. It's completely okay."
You placed your hands on your cheeks, cupping your face as your stomach swooped with each of his words. He was still leaning so casually in that chair that it was almost unnerving. But his tone was soft and genuine, and the sparkle in his eyes was still there as he looked across the desk at you.
"I'm... I'm not in trouble?" You whispered.
Price shook his head. "Of course not."
"And... you're not mad at me?"
"Mad at you?" Price frowned. Now he leaned forward, bringing the broad frame of his upper body closer to you. "Why would I be mad at you? Why would I be angry that you're taking care of my boys, hm?"
Taking care. Your whole body flushed with heat at that, goosebumps raising across your skin as you cupped your face tighter, a whine eliciting from the back of your throat. You weren't sure if the sudden sensations you were feeling was from the sheer embarrassment of this situation, or the fact that Price's comforting words, paired with the baritone of his voice, was– oh my god– turning you on.
What the hell was your life at this point.
"Price–" You whispered.
"Why don't I take you out to dinner, and we can talk a bit more about it. How does that sound?" Price asked, getting to his feet. Instinctively, you got to your feet as well, but you remained tucked behind your desk. You weren't sure if you were grateful for the small barrier between you and the imposingly attractive man on the other side of it.
"Are you sure?" You voiced, tentative. Your eyes darted behind Price to the door, where you could hear the rumbled voice of the coach echoing down the hall. Your stomach turned.
Price obviously knew what you were thinking. "It's okay, doc. You can come to dinner with me without getting in trouble. I promise you. I wouldn't compromise you like that."
You chewed your bottom lip again, thinking. When you did finally look back at Price and forcibly maintain eye-contact (which was difficult considering he was looking at you like he wanted to bend you over your fucking desk), you nodded.
"Yeah... dinner would be nice, thank you."
He smiled. A wide grin. "Yeah? Alright then, sweetheart. I'll pick you up at six-thirty. How does that sound?"
Your eyes widened, stomach flipping again. "Oh, tonight?"
Price nodded.
"Oh... oh, okay, yeah. Six-thirty's good."
"Good," Price was still smiling. "I'll pick you up then."
As he headed for the door, so casually that it made your heart rate pick-up, you called after him: "Don't you want my address?"
Price chucked as he opened the door. He looked over his shoulder and winked at you. "I'll just ask Gaz." And then he was gone.
Your entire body was on fire. What had you gotten yourself into?
•º•º•
Six-thirty rolled around and you were ridiculously nervous. You didn't know what to expect, and you had half the mind to just cancel and then lock yourself in your bedroom for the next few years. But when a knock sounded at your door at six-thirty exactly, you swallowed your nerves and opened the door to fine Price standing there.
The captain was well dressed, and you couldn't help but stare at how fucking good is arms looked in the dress-shirt. After exchanging pleasantries (kept to a minimum since you were afraid you might pass out if you talked too much), Price led you to his car and helped you into the passenger seat. He got in on the other side and drove off. You fidgeted with your fingers on your lap.
"You look gorgeous, sweetheart," Price said, sparing a look at you while driving. You felt yourself warm at his words, fidgeting with one of the rings on your fingers. He noticed, and reached his hand across the centre console and blanketed both of yours in one of his. "It's okay, doc. There's nothing to be nervous about."
"Nothing to be nervous about?" You asked as he began stroking his thumb along your knuckles. You hated admitting to yourself you liked it– and that you missed it once he pulled his hand away. "I have a lot to be nervous about, Price. One reason being I'm probably going to lose my job–"
"Why would you lose your job?" Price asked genuinely.
"Why would I lose my job?" You looked at him as though he was crazy. "Do you realise what–?"
"That's enough of that. You're not going to lose your job," Price decided to interrupt you before you had the chance to spiral. "You've done nothing wrong."
"That's not true–"
"You've done nothing wrong except look after my lads who, by the way, are very, very thankful," Price glanced at you, annunciating the second very in a way that made your heart skip a beat. He turned back to the road. "They're very grateful too. Not only have you patched up their injuries, you've given 'em something to focus on."
"Focus on?" You frowned.
Price nodded. "They tend to do better during games, and focus better during trainings when they know you're watching. And they love it when you watch. Makes 'em feel... proud."
"Proud?"
"Mhm, proud," Price said. "They're proud of themselves that they have a pretty thing like you keeping an eye on 'em, and they're proud of you for paying attention to 'em."
"Right..." You mumbled, eyes looking out of the windshield at the steady, fast-moving flow of traffic you and Price were behind.
Silence filled the car as you stared out the window, fingers still spinning and sliding one of your rings up and down your finger. You also chewed on your bottom lip briefly, all kinds of thoughts whizzing through your head. So many thoughts were bouncing around your brain that you were surprised that you weren't dizzy yet.
After allowing for a few moments of silence, Price glanced at you once more, clearing his throat. "Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?"
You turned to face him this time, altering your attention towards him rather than the road. You nodded, humming your consent and you watched as he stewed over the question in his head, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.
"You like me how you like the boys?" Price asked gently. "Or are you just acting all shy 'cause I'm the captain?"
He looked at you once the car rolled to a stop at a red-light. The red reflections of the car infront's break lights reflected in Price's eyes, and you wondered whether your eyes appeared a glassy red too.
Despite your nervousness, the anxious bubbling in your stomach, the slight tremor in your fingers, you mustered up enough courage to look him dead in the eyes and say, "I think you're smart enough to figure that out yourself."
Price's eyes darkened, but his lips curled into a smile. The lights turned green, which drew his eyes back onto the road. After a moment of driving, of turning a corner and adjusting his speed to the traffic, Price glanced at you again.
"Four rugby lads, doc? You got a thing for four, hm? S'abit greedy, isn't it?" He almost purred, and the butterflies in your stomach were no longer there because of nerves, but because of... well... horny.
You shrugged, a rueful smile appearing on your face as the car stopped at another red light.
"There's nothing wrong with being a bit greedy, is there?" You prompted, eying the captain with purpose. "Besides, it's not an issue if everyone shares, is it?"
Price tutted at you, shaking his head with a sly grin on his face. He looked at you in such a way you swore you could've melted into the car seat. "M'not sure if you've noticed, sweetheart, but my lads and I... well, we work as a team, yeah? And we certainly don't have a problem with sharing. Especially when we all really want something."
"Hmm..." You hummed and the light turned green. Price almost didn't notice with how locked-in he was on you. You gave him a little nod– pay attention, captain– so that he'd continue to drive and not anger any of the cars behind.
Now, it was your turn to reach across the centre console and place a hand on the thick expanse of Price's thigh. God, you had been wanting to do that for so fucking long. And, making your heart flutter, Price settled a hand on top of yours and held it firmly. Warm and solid and secure.
"Have you shared in the past?" You asked, and Price's quick response was a shake of the head.
"Not like this," Price answered truthfully. "Not– not like this, no. We've talked about it, but we've never... agreed on anyone. Until..."
"Until?" You raised your brows.
Price smiled. "Until this pretty little physio strolled through the front doors of the rec room and made half the bloody team fall in love with her in the first fifteen seconds."
You laughed. "Half the team?"
"Mhm."
"Well, good thing I don't want half the team," you told him, finger's squeezing his thigh. He sucked in a breath. Your smile grew. "I only want four, and that's fair, isn't it?"
Your hand squeezed and groped the thick muscle of Price's thigh, and you could visibly see the way he stiffened– the way his body tensed up at your touch, waiting expectantly to see where your hand would move too. But you didn't move it from the spot around mid-thigh, petting him there beneath the weight of his large hand.
"Seems fair..." Price grunted, jaw tensing. Your fingers simply squeezing his fucking thigh was enough to have a significant amount of blood rushing towards his cock.
He tried to concentrate on the road. He really did. But your touch on his leg and– christ– the weight of your stare against the side of his face was enough for him to slowly lose focus. He missed the turn towards the restaurant but, as he was about to express his frustrations at having missed the turn, you opened that pretty little mouth of yours.
"Price..."
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
Finally, fucking finally, your hand trailed higher, and Price let you. He let your fingers skate just shy of the crevice between his thigh and groin, where his cock was definitely half-hard in his trousers. Price gripped your fingers tighter, but made no move to stop you. It was just purely to make sure he didn't absolutely lose it.
"M'not that hungry anymore. Well, not for food, anyway."
•º•º•
It didn't take long for Price to find a secluded carpark down an empty street to pull into. Maybe it's because he was speeding, maybe not. Either way, it also didn't take him long for him to settle himself into the backseat and pull you with him. And it certainly didn't take long for your clothes to be removed, and for him to be dragging his hands down every inch of your beautiful body.
Price groaned low in his throat the entire time he worked you with his hands and fingers. As you straddled his lap, he groped and grasped at your breasts, kneading the soft flesh against his hardened fingers and palms. He pinched lightly at the buds of your nipples, tweaking them with his thumbs, watching you closely as you arched against him.
His hands didn't stay in one place for too long, as though he was eager to touch you everywhere. His hands coasted down your sides, squeezing the expanse of your waist and hips, rocking you against him. Price watched the way he could manipulate your supple skin beneath his hands, the way he could form ripples and folds against the flesh beneath his probing fingers.
"You're fucking perfect," Price muttered as his hands moved from your hips to your thighs, running up and down. You whined quietly as he grabbed at your thighs, before shifting his hands back to your midriff, where he pawed at your stomach. His hands were big and warm, and one pushed down on the pudge of your lower stomach, pressing lightly. He groaned. "God, I can't wait to stuff this pretty tummy with my cock, sweetheart."
He said it so quietly, so tenderly, that it didn't make you moan. Instead, you released a whimper of his name as his gaze remained transfixed on where he pushed against you. Finally, he tore his gaze away, his eyes instead darting over every single inch of your face.
"You're gonna feel it right here, doc," Price pushed gently again, and you couldn't help but squirm against him. He hummed, content, as though the thought alone was absolute bliss. Which, to him, it was. "Yeah... yeah, m'gonna fill you up with my cum, n' you're gonna really feel my cock, aren't you, sweetheart? Gonna feel it right here in this pretty tummy..."
He rubbed your stomach as he leaned forward, his other hand clasping the back of your neck to drag you into a heated kiss. You whined against his lips as he split your mouth open with his tongue, delving inside with warm flicks against your own. You held onto his broad shoulders– minding his injury– and began absent-mindedly grinding down against him. He was still fully dressed, and that turned you on even more.
Price got the hint. He pulled out of the kiss, the small bit of facial hair just below his lower lip sparkling with your spit. He didn't go far though, as he continued mouthing at you, dragging his lips along your jaw and then down your neck.
"Unbutton my shirt." He whispered against your neck before skimming his teeth against the skin and sucking. You obeyed, popping the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers. You managed to undo all of them by the time Price was finished practically chewing on your neck, judging by the amount of saliva and visible teeth indents against you. You expected something like that from Johnny, not Price. But either way, it turned you on. Of course it did.
"That's a good girl, well done." Price nosed at the bottom of your ear before pulling away and shucking the rest of his shirt off. His trousers followed– he popped the button under your excited gaze, unzipping them, before lifting his hips to pull them down.
He did so with you still on his lap, his strength not at all surprising. After his trousers were bunched up beneath you now, his boxers followed, and you let out a loud moan as his cock sprung free against his abdomen. Immediately, you grabbed hold of it, and Price released a thick grumble that had your cunt dripping onto his lap.
He wasn't as long as Simon, but Price was fucking thick. The weight of him in your hand had you whimpering, and the beads of pre-cum settling against his slit made your stomach flip. You ran your fingers gently up and down the solid, velveteen length, watching more and more pearls of pre-cum begin dribbling out of the reddened tip. He huffed out a breathy groan, watching the movement of your hand as your foreheads came together.
As you gently stroked his cock, one of Price's hands slipped down from your tummy to your thighs. His fingers traced the silken skin of your inner thighs before he found your slick core, his hand cupping you there for a moment before he ran a single digit up and down your folds.
You moaned against him, his finger joined by a second, now toying with your clit with tiny ministrations, as though you were made of glass. Your hand on his cock faltered as zaps of pleasure appeared in the base of your spine, forcing you to arch and wriggle in Price's lap. His fingers were warm and almost rough against the sensitive bundle of nerves, but you were in heaven– his circles growing deeper, his touch falling heavier as he drew shapes against you.
You moaned again, and this time, Price caught it with his mouth. He kissed you deeply, smoothing his tongue against your own as his fingers moved from your clit to your dripping hole. He wasted no time in pushing two fingers inside you, catching more of your moans in his mouth. He moaned too at the feeling of your tight, wet walls constricting around his fingers, your arousal smearing against his hand.
"Fuck, Gaz was right," Price groaned as he pulled out of the kiss, dropping his head to suck at the column of your throat. "This is such a perfect– fuckin'– pussy–" He punctuated his sentence with thrusts of his fingers, ripping whimpers from you.
His fingers worked quickly, thrusting in and out of you and filling the car with obscene, wet squelches. The windows– tinted, thankfully– were slowly beginning to condensate as you ground yourself down onto Price's hand while stroking his cock.
His cock twitched and leaked in your grasp, so hard that you could feel the heat of him against your palm. The flushed tip was leaking so much pre-cum that you had only had to spit once into your hand to slicken your movements.
Your stomach was no longer alight with butterflies or nerves. You felt confident and, hell, happily horny as you jerked off the captain of one of the best rugby union teams in the United Kingdom. As Price's head moved back to take a good look at you against his lap, it was your turn to lean forward and suck kissed up the side of his neck. He groaned loudly when you attached your lips to his skin, the vibrations tickling your lips as you sucked. You continued sucking kisses all the way up to the base of his ear, before nipping playfully at his earlobe.
"Oh, fuckin' hell..." He grunted, hips bucking into your fist, his fingers losing rhythm inside you for just a moment.
But he found his memento soon after you whispered into his ear, "You're making me feel so good, sir."
Sir. Sir, sir, sir–
Price leaned his head back against the headrest and groaned outwardly, the word sending even more blood (if that was even possible at this point) to his cock, more pearls of pre beading at the ruddy tip. He groaned your name, his fingers increasing their pace, the heel of his hand grinding into your clit.
"Sir? Yeah, that's right, sweetheart, call me sir." Price whispered as you sucked a bruise just below his Adam's apple. It bobbed at the feeling of your tongue and teeth laving against him. His fingers curled inside you, and you mewled against his skin.
His fingers, long and thick and hitting that good spot inside you, pulled you closer to release as you continued to fist his cock. You prised yourself away from his throat, giving yourself just a second to admire your handiwork, before you were tossing your head back as your entire body began to tremble. Your hand on his cock desperately tried to maintain pace, but you struggled with the way in which his fingers were fucking you. It was hard to focus on anything else but that.
"S'alright, sweetheart, let go've my cock and come 'round my fingers, it's okay," Price whispered, eyes on your face as he continued to curl his fingers inside you, thrusting upwards. You tried to keep your fingers moving around him, whining at him that you wanted to keep stroking his cock, but he shushed you, using his free hand to cup your face gently. "I said it's alright, doc. Jus' want you to come, yeah? Don't worry 'bout me, jus' come 'round my fingers."
Your mind wanted to ignore him, but your body listened– your hands flying up to hold onto both of his shoulders just as your orgasm rocked through you. You came around his fingers with a stuttered moan of his name, your hips tilting and rocking against his hand, his palm still flat against your swollen clit. He fingered you through your release, that had waves of heat rolling across you, his eyes transfixed on your face.
"An' Soap was right, too..." Price muttered, removing his fingers from your cunt and forcibly shoving them passed your lips and into your mouth. It was the first time of the night he wasn't gentle. "You do look fuckin' gorgeous when you come."
Before you had a chance to lazily wind your tongue around his fingers, he pulled them out of your mouth and sucked them into his own. It was lewd and wet, but the sight of his eyelids fluttering shut at the taste of you made your core begin to throb again.
You wondered if these men were increasing your libido somehow.
Price removed his fingers from his mouth and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. He fisted himself for a second, his other hand moving to your hip to urge you to rise just a bit. You did, holding onto his shoulders for support, as you hovered over him. Then, Price guided his cock until it was aligned with the slick entrance of your cunt, before rubbing the leaking tip back and forth between your folds.
You mewled when he circled the head around your hole, probing gently but never pushing any further than a few centimetres. He did this repeatedly, his eyes on your face, watching your expression as he teased the head of his cock against your cunt. Eventually, you looked down at him with a fucked-out frown– your best orgasm-drunk attempt at scowling– and whispered, "Please fuck me, Price. Need you so bad."
"Aw, do you, sweetheart? You need my cock?" Price queried with just the right amount of condescension in his tone to have you wriggling against him.
"No– well, yes– but need you. Please, sir, please."
Slowly, Price pulled you down as he slanted his hips upwards, pushing his cock into your wet hole. You let out a desperate moan, clutching his shoulders as you sunk down onto him. The wet heat of your cunt swallowed him, your silky walls clinging to every ridge and vein on the length of his cock as he bullied his way inside you. Price moaned too, low and deep, switching between watching his cock disappear inside you, and watching the changes in your facial expression.
"There we go, sweetheart..." He bottomed out inside you, the tip of his cock nudging that spot inside you that had sparks bursting in your tummy.
You whined, pawing at him, dragging your hands down his bare abdomen and running your fingers through the coarse hair. Your fingers found his happy trail, and you rubbed the pads against it, whining still.
Price stilled, not yet thrusting. He chuckled lowly. "You like that?"
"Yeah, fuck," you said breathlessly. "Wanna kiss it."
"You can kiss it next time," Price told you, kissing you gently on the cheek. "This time, 'm gonna fuck you like you deserve."
That's when he held both of your hips and snapped his pelvis upwards, driving his cock deeper into you. You choked on a moan when he pulled out slightly and then shunted himself back in, proceeding to repeat those movements over and over and over again. Your moans were getting trapped in your throat as he planted his feet on the floor of the car and thrusted up into you, pulling you back down with ease. You bounced against him, hips rolling.
As he fucked you, you couldn't help but realise the gravity of your situation. The captain of the rugby union team you were physio for was fucking you in the back of his expensive car. Not only that, but he wanted to share you with three other players. And, not only fucking that, but you had already had your pussy eaten by one of them, masturbated in front of the second, and sucked off and thigh-rode the third.
What kind of blessing was this?
Now, you were being stuffed full by the fourth, who had an obsession with groping and grasping every inch of flesh he possibly could. As he speared you on his cock, he massaged his fingers against your hips, delving down into the top of your arsecheeks. Your breasts bounced in his face, and he had to stop himself from taking one into his mouth. Instead, he looked at you the entire time. You were the prettiest damn thing he'd ever seen.
"S'that feel good, sweetheart?" He asked, the car rocking gently around you, tinted windows fogging. "S'this what you needed? Needed to be stuffed full'a my cock?"
You nodded, swamped in delirium as you rode his thrusts, the head of his cock slamming against your g-spot, your cunt squeezing around him.
"So good..." You whined, thighs drawing tighter around him.
You were close, and so was he. Price knew he wasn't going to last very long as soon as he got inside you, and he was right. His balls were pulling tight, his cock twitching inside you as your cunt tightened around him. Sweat built on his brow, his breaths were falling in pants, and his thrusts were growing increasingly sloppy. He needed you to come.
He was in luck.
"Price, sir, m'so close–" You mewled, interrupting yourself with a moan. A thin layer of sweat covered your lower back, and the base of your tummy tingled with your growing orgasm. Your clit pulsed too, dragging against the hair at the base of Price's cock, forcing another desperate, whiny moan from your mouth.
He fucked you hard and fast, quickly snaking a hand down to toy with your puffy clit. The sudden, sporadic movement of his fingers paired with his deep thrusts were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time that evening.
You gushed around his cock, your orgasm drawing a long-winded moan from you. You moaned his name, your body trembling against him as he fucked you through it, the fat head of his cock unrelenting against that perfect spot inside you. Your arousal coated his cock, soaking through onto his lap as his pace increased.
"So fuckin' beautiful," Price whispered as your body went lax against him, barely managing to hold yourself upright. "Fuck. I can't fuckin' wait to share you with my boys. Can't wait for you to take all of us, how's that sound, sweetheart?"
You whimpered softly. That was about all you could do in your state. Two orgasms in and you were absolutely wrecked.
Price chuckled, thrusts mismatched and desperate as he grew closer to release. "Yeah, I bet you'd like that..."
His cock continued bullying up into the plug of your womb, stretching your cunt open and forcing more drips of arousal onto his lap. Price maintained his finger on your clit, rubbing lazily as his other hand held your hip tightly and pulled you back down onto him. He was panting like a dog, grunting from deep in his chest as your tight, wet cunt pulled him closer to orgasming. He can't recall coming this soon during sex ever.
He was so close. Before he came, he took his hand away from your clit and pressed down on your tummy again, moaning when he felt the light imprint of his cock fucking up into you. You moaned and, without much warning, came again.
"Christ–" Price gritted his teeth as your third orgasm spilt around him, your walls sucking his cock in further. Still with his hand against your tummy, and still stuffing you full of his cock, he whispered lowly to you, "See, pretty girl? I told you you'd feel it right here... my cock stuffin' this pretty tummy..."
He groaned, and with his hand flushed against the soft mound of your tummy, he came inside you. You could feel his release inside you, all thick and warm, painting your cervix. Price thrust a few more times before plugging his cock inside you and tucking you against his chest, the both of you panting.
You laid like that for a while. Both of Price's hands wound around you and held him to you, the two of you basking in a heady post-sex silence. After a few minutes, Price slowly peppered your face and head with kisses, rubbing his hands along your back.
One of his large hands cupped the back of your head where you rested it against his chest, listening to his heart beating.
"You okay, doc?" He asked, rubbing you, tending to you, appreciating you.
You nodded. "M'fine. Just sleepy..."
Price placed a tender kiss to the crown of your head, continuing to hold you close as the dark tint of his car windows and the condensation trapped the both of you in your own little world. Outside the car, evening had turned to night, and it had started to rain.
"Sir..." You said after a while.
He hummed against your, his face still pressed to the top of your head.
"Do... do you really want to share me?"
Price peeled his face away from you. Gently, he grasped the back of your head and angled your face towards him. He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss to your lips, before pulling back and gazing at you softly.
"Wouldn't mind it," he joked, but then said seriously; "If that's what you want, of course. You don't have to do anything you don't want too."
You nodded in acknowledgement. "I know... and, I do, you know."
"You do?"
"Yeah. I... I like all of you."
Price smiled. "Greedy girl, hm?"
"You love it." You bit back, chasing his mouth for another kiss. He let you swipe your tongue against his lips, and he smiled against your mouth when you attempted to deepen it.
You pulled back with a huff and he laughed. "Eager?"
"Shut up." You grumbled.
Price kissed you long and hard once more before settling back against the car seat. He took a deep breath, looking back down at you. You watched him expectantly. He cocked his head at you, brows raising, imploring a silent what?
"I can basically hear you thinking. What're you thinking about?"
"What am I thinking about?" Price placed both hands on your cheeks, holding your face so that he could get a really good look at you. He smiled. "I was thinking... I mean, the boys and I were thinking... are you free this weekend?"
•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•
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