#this too is the title of a Queen song | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

makoodles · 5 months

Text

ミmy daddy didn't love me so i guess i've moved onto you

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, daddy kink, undefined age gap, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, both reader and price have a daddy kink that they indulge in with very little discussion, allusions to reader having a bad relationship with her father (but nothing concrete), price uses a lot of pet names for reader and also calls himself daddy several times

title is inspired by the song peter bogdanovich by my queen CMAT

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you’re damn good at your job.

You have to be in order to survive in this ridiculous goddamn base. There are protocols to be followed, risk assessments to carry out, weapons and equipment requisition requests to send off, and you have to handle almost all of it for Task Force 141. That’s one thing about working with the military – they’re all about action, and rarely have the patience to fill in their paperwork, and then when they do it’s never done properly.

You’re patient when you need to be, willing to push when you have to, and you make sure shit gets done. It’s not an easy job; you work your ass off, and it’s often thankless. Most of your job is done behind the scenes, whether that’s requisitioning on-the-fly tactical or strategic airlifts, liaising with other units, or trying desperately to smooth over any little problems that might crop up with the higher-ups.

It’s challenging and exhausting, and you love it, but damn, it can be fucking infuriating. Working in a male-dominated environment is a little bit soul-destroying, with every condescending comment and lascivious gaze that lingers over your body. But none of that matters, because you don’t need male approval to excel at your job. You don’t need male approval for anything.

You repeat it to yourself on the daily, which is something that you’ve never had to do before. But before, you weren’t working with Captain John Price.

He’s not… rude, per se. If anything, he’s always coolly polite. But it’s obvious, so obvious, that he just barely tolerates you. He’s gruff, short, to-the-point, and never speaks to you outside of brusque orders. It takes weeks for him to start trusting you with even the most basic of files, and even then chunks of information are often redacted. And it shouldn’t matter; you’ve worked for men like him before, you know how it goes, and if anything he’s one of the better ones.

In the beginning, when you had first been assigned to the task force, Price had not been happy about it. It had been a tough transition; your assignment had been approved by Laswell in order to take some of the strain of liaising off both her and Price, but the Captain hadn’t been too pleased about it. He had seen you as a sort of interloper, a silly little pencil-pusher sent in by the brass to do the grunt work of administration that no one else wants to do.

But you work hard, you always have done. And maybe… maybe, part of the reason that you end up busting your balls so hard is because you want– no. Maybe you need his approval. You’d prefer not to think about it; it’s easier to throw yourself into your work, and pretend that you’re doing it for you.

You’re not even sure how it started, but at some point, Price starts looking at you differently. Maybe he realises that you’re competent at your job, or maybe he just needs to get used to you. Maybe, you hope, he’s finally starting to realise that you’re good at what you do; that you can be an asset to the team, so long as they actually work with you.

Whatever it is, he eases off. Stops being such a hard-ass, starts giving you space to do your thing. Eventually, he starts delegating too — stops hoarding the work like a miser, and finally starts treating you like you’re capable of something more than just photocopying.

He’s not a bad boss, not by a long shot. He’s kind, determined, patient when it matters, with a wry sense of humour. He’s also fiercely protective over his team, and that includes you now.

But he’s also older, by at least fifteen years, and he’s not always the most diligent with paperwork. Typical man of action, you’ve seen it a hundred times before. There’s always something more important to do, and while he’s always so cognisant of your workload and careful not to add to it, he is also all too happy to let you take the reins when it comes to bureaucracy. You like to think that you’ve proved yourself to him, but maybe he just respects competency.

That should be it.

But you’re so ashamed to admit that even when Price stops treating you like you’re a hostile target, you can’t stop hoping for his attention. Your mental chants of I don’t need male approval for anything, I don’t need male approval for anything become a daily thing, and sometimes a several-times-a-day thing.

Because the thing is, Price can be a difficult man to please. He’s always so busy that he doesn’t have time to give you the approval that you’re straining for, but when he does it gives you the most shameful warm glow in your belly.

A brief nod or a low grunted ‘Thanks, sweetheart’ is enough to fuel you for days now. Even better is when you’re walking along beside him, briefing him on the latest update from the higher-ups, and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back. Ostensibly, it’s to lead the way and guide you out of the path of the running cadets, but it just toes the line of professionalism and you flounder under the touch.

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. He’s just a coworker, and you need to keep your issues to yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You’re perfectly self-aware enough to admit when you’re in a bad mood.

You start the day tired, and when you check your reflection in the mirror first thing that morning you’re greeted with the sight of a big, fuck-off pimple on your chin. It’s big, it’s throbbing, it practically has its own fucking heartbeat. You barely restrain the urge to pick at it, though you can feel it even when you’re not looking at it.

Your mood doesn’t improve when you get to the small kitchenette by your office and find that someone has used the last of the fancy French Vanilla flavoured coffee that you’ve stocked for yourself. As if that’s not bad enough, your little stash of chocolate digestives you keep for yourself for emergency bad days have disappeared too.

You clench your jaw and continue about your business. Whatever. You can survive without your coffee and chocolate.

Your resolve falters when you see the pile of paperwork on your desk, but whatever. It’s all part of the job. A little chocolate biscuit to nibble on would definitely make your job easier, but you’re a big girl and you’re just going to have to go without.

Then you get the phone call. One that makes you want to bang your head against your desk hard enough to knock yourself unconscious so that you don’t have to deal with this.

It’s time to update the TF141 personnel files. Orders from above, since there’s been significant changes to medical and surgical history in the last couple of months from injuries on missions.

Normally, that’s not such a big deal. It just involves updating their medical and technical files, making sure that nothing major has changed with regards their addresses or other personal information, even though a big portion of it ends up redacted anyway.

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy.

Gaz is happy to come to your office when you text him, and he stands obediently for you as you take his picture. He’s gotten a metal plate fitted in his kneecap from the last time his file has been updated, and he sits and chats easily with you as you go through his information. He’s a sweet guy, and so easy to talk to, and you sigh with the knowledge that no one is going to make your job as simple and leisurely as Gaz just has.

After he leaves, you target Soap. He comes to your office as easily as Gaz, but he’s significantly more difficult to photograph.

He just keeps smiling, no matter how many times you tell him to quit it.

“It’s a personnel file photograph, not a photo for your Instagram.” You sigh, irritated. “I need you to have a blank, neutral expression. It’s like a passport photo, Sergeant. It’s for a government document.”

“Can’t help it, lass.” Soap says easily, that stupid grin not even dimming. “I see a camera, I smile. It’s muscle memory.”

You think that your irritation is only encouraging him, which only worsens your mood. In the end, you don’t get a single usable photograph of him for his file. You have to give up on him, swearing that you’ll come get him to try again later. He leaves your office still chuckling, like he thinks your frustration is cute.

You have tougher targets to tackle.

The difficult part isn’t even taking Ghost’s photo — the difficult part is catching him in the first place.

You spend almost three hours trying to track him down (because he won’t read your texts and your phone calls go unanswered), wobbling all over base in your stupid high heels and somehow missing him by mere moments every time. You arrive in the gym, the mess, the firing range, even the barracks, only to see the man’s enormous broad back disappearing out of the other door as soon as you get there.

You can only assume that Soap had given Ghost the heads up that you were on the prowl with a mission and a camera, because the lieutenant is avoiding you like the goddamn plague.

So yeah. You’re in a real bad fucking mood. But you can’t help it — some days your job is entirely thankless, and your mood drops so low that you feel like going home and crying. But you can’t, and you don’t want to show weakness in front of these military idiots, so all you can do is lock your jaw and go about your business the best you can.

You go back to your office, jaw and fists clenched tight, and collapse at your desk with your head in your hands. You have to take a few deep, slow breaths to try and calm yourself, but then you make the mistake of checking your reflection and your mood sinks lower again when you see that the stupid pimple on your chin has worsened.

God, this is just not your day. You have to get these stupid files updated, or it’ll fall on your head.

Eventually, you reluctantly stand up. There’s no point moping; you have a job to do, whether you like it or not, and your next victim is Captain Price.

You walk to Price’s office swiftly, your feet aching in your stupid heels. You wish you had worn something more sensible, but… well. Even subconsciously, you want to impress.

When you reach his office, you throw the door open and march inside without even bothering to knock.

Price is sitting behind his desk, and his head snaps up as soon as you walk in. His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is. You guess you don’t exactly pose much of a threat, so he sees no use in posturing.

“I need you for a moment.” You bite out, allowing the door to slam shut behind you.

You hear Price sigh, before he leans back and settles into his chair, making himself comfortable. He’s wearing the same dark compression shirt that he usually wears for training exercises or to the gym, and he’s recently groomed his beard down too. He looks good, though it takes a colossal amount of effort for you to not notice, because you have other things you need to focus on right now.

“Hello to you too, love.” He grunts, wiping a hand over his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

You struggle not to react to that, his low voice both soothing and igniting something in your blood. You take a breath, try to calm down. You’re a professional, and you’re not here to embarrass yourself in front of the captain.

“I’m updating personnel files,” You say, and this time it comes out calm and steady, “I need to take a picture of you.”

Price’s gaze lingers on you, his stern brow softening a little. For a moment, you think that maybe this is actually going to be easy. That he’ll just stand up and take the fucking picture, so that the two of you can go back to your jobs and relax for the rest of the day.

But then–

“Jesus, kid.” He sighs, already shaking his head. “I’m up to my eyes right now. Leave it ‘till tomorrow.”

For a moment, you don’t react at all. You just stare at him, letting those dismissive words settle over you. He’s already looking back at his paperwork, mission briefings and maps littering the desk, and you feel so effectively dismissed. You feel small, so silly and stupid standing in front of him in a way that you haven’t felt since you first started working with the task force. You had thought that you were past this, that you had earned some meagre sort of respect from him.

“I need it done today.” You say, and your voice comes out a little hollow to your own ears.

You don’t need male validation. You don’t. But damn, you’ve had a rough day and the fact that your captain isn’t even bothering to look at you makes you want to cry.

Price sighs, and rubs at the crease between his eyes. He looks just as tired as you feel.

“Yeah, well. I don’t have time. Tomorrow.”

You swallow, pursing your lips. He’s so effortlessly dominant, which means that his careless dismissal stings all the more.

“I have to get the whole team done,” You say, struggling to keep your voice firm. “Soap wouldn’t stop smiling for the camera, I couldn’t find Farah anywhere, and Ghost–”

Price gives a sharp, derisive snort. “Forget Ghost.”

You scowl. “I need to do the whole squad.”

“Not Ghost.” Price repeats, this time slower and with more emphasis. “Simon doesn’t do photos.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You’ve been working alongside the task force for a while now, and you’re familiar with Lieutenant Riley’s penchant for covering his face. It’s not something you have a problem with – usually.

“There’s no reason for him to be the exception to personnel photos, Captain.” You say through gritted teeth. “Everyone else is being photographed. The task force might be covert, but Lieutenant Riley is no more–”

“Christ, enough.” Price snaps, his voice a deep boom that has your mouth closing with a click. “The One Four One is my squad, in case you’ve forgotten. I know these lads, and I’m telling you to leave it out.”

You stare, a little taken aback by the harshness in his voice. He hasn’t been this sharp with you in months, not since you had started to prove yourself competent, useful. Now, you can see the warning signs of his bad mood; the circles under his eyes are pronounced, his skin dull in the ugly fluorescent lights of his office. He looks exhausted, his skin lined and dry like he hasn’t been drinking enough water.

You realise, a little too late, that you might have been pushing your luck by insisting on something as silly as personnel file photos. TF 141 had only returned from deployment at the beginning of the week, and Price has no doubt been drowning in reports since.

“This is why I told Laswell you weren’t necessary,” His snarl is entirely unlike him, and he rubs his face furiously, his palms rasping through his beard. “I don’t need someone coming in here and making demands of my squad for– for fucking photographs.”

You inhale shakily through your nose; to your utter horror, you can feel your eyes burn with hot wet tears. It’s stupid – you’ve dealt with far crueller words from far harsher men. The nature of your job often puts you in the firing line for frustration, and when it bubbles over it’s frequently directed at you.

But this… this feels different, for some reason. You’ve been working your ass off to try and earn some recognition from Price, to show him that you’re a valuable asset to the team, and so his sharp, frustrated dismissal of you cuts deeper than it should.

You hate that your eyes are burning like this. You don’t want Price to think of you as useless, or as the silly little girl who was put on the team by the brass who can’t even do her job right. He was just starting to think of you as competent, and it hurts your ego to have to go to him for help with something that you should be more than capable of handling yourself in the first place.

“Right,” You say, and even you’re startled by the sharpness in your tone. “Fine. Forget the file updates, then.”

You step forward, jaw clenched hard, and toss the files you’ve been carrying around all day onto his desk. They hit the surface with a smack that feels uncomfortably loud in the tense silence that’s fallen over the room.

“I’ll tell the higher-ups that you’re handling it.” You continue, your voice coming out brattier than you’d like. “Since obviously I have no idea what I’m doing–”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Price sighs, as though you’re the one being unreasonable. “What I’m saying is, if you’re going to work with the team, you have to understand the team–”

That, you think, might just push you over the edge.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You snap out, and Price’s mouth closes. “D’you think I’m– that I’m some kind of idiot?”

Price blinks. It seems like you’ve managed to take him by surprise, as though your bad mood rivals his just enough to pull him out of his own grumpy form entirely. He opens his mouth again, but you’re not ready to hear him speak again just yet.

“I’m here because Laswell put in a request for me to work with you and your squad, Captain. I’m considered an asset to the teams that I work with,” You’re scowling thunderously, all the tension and frustration that’s been mounting all day spilling over. “And I don’t have to put up with being dismissed and unappreciated when I know that I would be respected in other squads for the work that I do.”

Price raises his hands, a frown creasing his brow. “Kid, that’s not–”

Usually, being called ‘kid’ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that you’re absolutely not interested in examining, but this time it only lights an infuriated fire in your belly.

“Don’t!” You snap, your breath juddering unsteadily. “God, you think I enjoy being treated like an idiot? You think I haven’t had to deal with this from men my whole career? My whole life? Even my father–”

To your abject horror, a lump forms in your throat and you can’t finish that sentence. Your eyes are hot with unshed tears, and you’re pretty sure your lip is trembling.

Price stands, his stern expression slackening into something like uncomfortable surprise as he moves to step around the desk.

“Hey,” He soothes, lifting his hands. “I’m not your father.”

“I know that!” You snap, irate. You’re frustrated with yourself, embarrassed at what you’ve unintentionally given away. “I wouldn’t want you to be!”

Price’s expression flickers, as though he can’t decide quite how to react to you. You’re more than aware that you’re being childish, but you find yourself unable to temper your overreactions. In the face of your tears and your frustrated anger, Price looks like he’s at a loss.

“All I’ve done is work hard, and tried to take the burden off you to make your job a little easier.” You continue before he can interrupt again. “And all I get in return is stress, and my chocolate biscuits eaten, and breakouts, and– and–”

“Kid–”

“The only person who wasn’t an absolute dickhead to me today was Garrick,” You rage, on a roll now. “Everyone else has just been so– and look how bad my skin has gotten from the stress of having to deal with men who want to act like children–”

Price watches you with an expression that is plainly bewildered as you gesture at the stupid pimple that’s been throbbing on your chin all day. You don’t even think you’re making sense, too lost in your frustration and humiliation to be properly aware of what you’re saying.

“Your… skin.” He repeats, a little disbelieving.

You whirl away, agitated. You’re not getting your point across well, and Price must think you’re simply demented.

“Hey,” He says slowly, approaching from around the side of his desk. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t doing a decent job–”

“Whatever.” You mutter, running your hands over your skirt in an attempt to straighten out the creases. “Whatever.”

It’s too little, too late. He’s always been a bit of a hardass, and you’ve always tried so hard to please him, to impress him. But you can’t bear to make a fool of yourself like this any longer.

“I’ll leave the paperwork to you. Update it, or don’t. It doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, turning on your heel and marching towards the door.

“Wait,” Price calls out. His voice is firm, echoing with the grim certainty of a man who is used to being obeyed.

But you’re not one of his soldiers, and his command falls on deaf ears. Your skin is still prickling with humiliation; you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get away from the Captain before.

“Sweetheart, just wait a minute,” Price says, and this time you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “I understand that you’re stressed, that’s normal. Everyone gets stressed in this line of work. But you can’t just go and get your knickers in a twist because some of the lads are bein’ difficult–”

“My knickers are none of your business!” You yell. Truthfully, it’s more of a shriek, high-pitched and unsteady enough to have Price’s eyes widening and darting towards the door as though worried about someone overhearing from the corridor.

“Whoa, okay,” Price says with the air of trying to soothe a spooked horse. “You're right. Your... knickers... ain't my concern. But helping keep this squad running smoothly is, and that can't happen if my admin is on edge."

“Oh, give me a break!” You’re beyond on-edge now, sailing right into fury. “You ignore me most of the time when you're not on deployment, you dismiss me when I’m just trying to do my job, but now you’re telling me you need me to not be on edge?”

You’ve reached the door now, your hand clenched tight around the doorhandle as you take one last moment to turn and look at him. He’s stepping towards you, no doubt with the intent to stop you before you can leave, but you don’t plan on giving him the chance.

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

“Sort the files yourself, or do whatever you want.” You bite out, yanking the door open but pausing in the doorway. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s your squad, you do it.”

Price takes a breath, visibly fighting for patience. Truthfully, you don’t know how he hasn’t lost his head with you already. He was already exhausted and in an obviously bad mood when you had stormed in here, and it couldn’t be more obvious that you’ve just made it worse with all of your frenzied anger and borderline hysteria.

The fact that Price is staying calm and level even in the face of your stress-induced meltdown only makes you feel all the more ridiculous. You wish he would get angry, that he would snap at you like he had when you had first walked in – at least that way you could pretend that you don’t notice the way his stressed scowl had melted into a look of concern as soon as he had seen the tears welling up in your stinging eyes.

“And you don’t have to wear that stupid hat, we’re indoors!” You yell, your voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat before you hurriedly bolt out of the room, escaping into the corridor before he can stop you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

“— just thinking that maybe I’d be better suited with another team, that’s all. I heard Kortac’s liaison is approaching maternity leave—”

“That position is going to be filled internally,” Laswell’s voice is calm over the secure phoneline, a stark contrast to the shaky undertone of stress in your own. “Besides, organising a transfer like that is more trouble than it’s worth.” There’s a pause, then a sigh crackles over the phone. “You still haven’t explained what happened. As far as I can see, you were doing good work there.”

Yeah, you think sourly, because all you see is the paperwork end of it.

“... Internal conflict.” You mutter, playing with the fraying edge of your sweater sleeve.

There’s a long pause, protracted enough that it makes you squirm. You know what she’s thinking – in your line of work, it’s impossible to avoid clashing with some of the big dominant personalities who are used to getting away with whatever they want. But you’ve always been able to handle it, well-versed enough in diplomacy to know when to stand your ground and when to bow out to avoid unnecessary strife.

“Internal conflict.” Laswell repeats, her voice as bland as you’ve ever heard it. “Meaning?”

God, it feels like you’re disappointing your mom or something. You scrub a hand over your face, pacing in the living room of your small apartment.

“I know how it sounds,” You say, “But– they don’t want to work with me. There’s only so much I can do if I’m being met with resistance at every corner–”

“You’ve worked with resistant squads before,” Laswell interrupts. “It’s part of the job.”

“Yes, but…” You start, before trailing off.

She has a point, of course. It is part of the job. There’s no way to professionally explain to your superior that the reason this assignment is so difficult is because you have a mortifying crush on the Captain of the Task Force. It’s making you stupid, making all the stupid bullshit that you’re usually able to look past feel so much worse, especially because all you’ve ever wanted was Price’s approval.

Another sigh. This one, at least, sounds a little more sympathetic.

“Look,” Laswell says, and this time her voice is a little gentler. “I’ve never given you an assignment that I didn’t think you could handle. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it. You’re a capable girl, and the One Four One is far from the most difficult team you’ve had to deal with. There might be some big personalities there, but nothing that you shouldn’t be able to tackle.”

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

“Sort out whatever’s going on with you.” Laswell’s tone leaves no room for argument, her suggestion falling just short of a command. “If whatever issues you’re experiencing continue, I’ll talk to John–”

“No!” You blurt.

God, you can’t think of anything worse. You’ve already made a show of yourself in front of him, the last thing you need is for him to learn that you’ve gone crying to Laswell about the whole thing. You don’t want him to think of you as any more of a useless little girl than he doubtlessly already does.

“No,” You repeat, calmer this time as you clear your throat. “I’ll… sort it. Sorry to bother you with this, ma’am.”

Laswell hums, and you can imagine her eyes narrowing. Judging by the wind whistling in the background of the call, she’s not anywhere near her cushy office. You’ve interrupted her on whatever assignment she’s on, and she’s been kind enough to listen to your silly little complaints for at least fifteen minutes of her valuable time. You feel more ridiculous than ever, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose.

“... Right.” She says. “Fine. Keep me updated on the situation. I want a sitrep by the end of the week, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You understand what’s not being said. Laswell expects you to work your own shit out, but you can hear the concern in her voice when she demands an update. All you can do is agree. Laswell has been by your side throughout your whole career, always having a hand in your assignments and your progression, and she’s always been an advocate for you and what you’re capable of. Now, after this conversation, you feel silly for getting so overwhelmed in the face of what is a relatively minor obstacle.

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

You hum, wish her goodbye and good luck, and hang up the phone.

For a long moment afterwards, you sit in silence in your living room. God, how did all of this spiral into such a mess?

For the last few days, you’ve been avoiding the base entirely. You have a few PTO days built up, and you’ve taken the opportunity to just chill out. It’s the first chance you’ve had to relax properly in months, since you had started working with the task force. The space is good, and it’s needed.

You get out of the headspace of work, and reports, and files and requisitions and debriefs, and instead treat yourself with full body self-care. You exfoliate, you moisturise, you use a hair mask, you take bubble baths. You even catch up on the trashy Netflix romance series that you had put on hold for ages, just waiting for some free time to indulge.

And you almost, almost, forget about why you’re hiding away in your little flat in the first place.

But your third day off creeps around, and you can’t help but feel as though your little bubble of isolation is about to pop. There’s only so much time away from the office that you’re able to swing, and the longer away the more you feel that your position on the team is untenable. No matter how you currently feel about the task force and your place with them, you’re not willing to let your hard work go down the drain just because you’re too cowardly to face them again after your little meltdown.

So, you go back to work after your little break away.

You manage to slink into your office mostly unseen, other than polite hello’s from other admin staff as you slip through the halls. Your office is far from prime real estate when it comes to office space on base – it’s well out of the way, down several corridors that no one ever goes down, and once you get past the main thoroughfares you don’t come across anyone. Even still, it feels a little like you’re doing a walk of shame, but you walk with your head held high before you finally get your office door closed behind you.

To your surprise, your desk is clear. Typically, any slight break away from your desk results in work piling up on it, just waiting for your attention once you get back. You don’t know what to make of the absence of work; you can’t help but wonder, somewhat uncomfortably, if Price had taken your words to heart and dealt with all of the paperwork himself.

You check the drawers of your desk too, just in case, and come up empty yet again.

Well. Okay, then.

You sign into your desktop, waiting for the encryption program to load before accessing your emails. There’s a lot to catch up on, so you spend the next hour or so organising your to-do list in order of urgency.

You get lost in making your little lists, allowing yourself to relax into finding order in your schedule. You barely even look up until there’s a soft knock on your office door, and by the time you’ve raised your head the door has opened and Farah has slipped inside.

“Oh,” You straighten up in surprise. “Commander. What can I do for you?”

It’s a surprise to see her, especially since you hadn’t received any email correspondence. Your office is tucked away down a remote corridor, and soldier’s usually prefer to just email you their requests rather than make the trek down.

Farah offers a polite smile, approaching your desk. “I hear you are taking photographs.”

Your smile slips a little. “Oh. No, actually, I wasn’t–”

“Captain Price said I was to be photographed,” She says, pulling the chair out opposite you and watching you expectantly. “I tried to find you yesterday, and the day before, but I believe you weren't on base.”

You shift, feeling abruptly rather awkward. “Right. I was– Price said that to you?”

“Mhm.” Farah leans back in the chair, her dark eyes alert as they track over your face. “He said that you have been stressed.”

You feel your face heat, mortified. Oh, god. How embarrassing. Has Price given the team a goddamn debrief on your little meltdown? Farah tilts her head as though she knows what you’re thinking, and a tiny smile quirks at the corner of her lips.

“That��s all he said,” She says. “That, and that we should try to make your job a little easier.”

“Oh.” You shift, embarrassed and awkward. “I– Listen, I had a… rough day at work a few days ago, that’s all. I’m not– things are fine.”

Farah just nods as though that’s perfectly convincing, and you find yourself wildly appreciative of her for a moment.

“So, then,” She says, and raises her eyebrows. “The picture?”

You can’t find a way to explain that you had thrown that particular responsibility right back at Price in a fit of pique, but it turns out you don’t have to. Farah produces a slim folder that you hadn’t noticed her holding, and you realise with another flush of embarrassment that it’s her personnel file.

“There wasn’t much to update, just a recent blood work test.” She says as she lays it on your desk.

“That’s… thanks.” You say weakly, taking the file in hand. You flick through it briefly, feeling something in your stomach squirm at the sight of Farah’s details all filled in – Price’s handwriting is unmistakable, the small neat blocky letters standing out amongst the messy scrawl of Farah’s medical report.

You dig out your camera, still a little flustered, and direct Farah to stand against your plain white-painted wall. She’s an easy subject to photograph; she stands perfectly still, unsmiling, and you get the perfect picture after only a couple of attempts.

“Lovely,” You murmur, flicking through the pictures. “Thank you.”

Farah hums. You’re expecting her to dismiss herself, and it takes a moment for you to realise that she’s still lingering. You glance up, blinking, only to find that she’s standing with her lips pursed, obviously considering something.

“The Captain is worried about you.” She says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is everything alright?”

You gape at her like a moron, camera still hanging loosely from your hands. You feel uncomfortably seen; there’s no way that Farah could know what happened, but she’s looking at you with an awful lot of sympathy right now.

“What?” You squeak.

“You fought?” Farah speaks slowly, obviously conscious of overstepping her boundaries. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just…”

“No, that’s okay.” You say hastily. “We didn’t– there was no fighting, exactly.”

She just nods, as if you’re making perfect sense, then smiles politely. She gathers herself up and steps towards the door, and you feel your head spinning as she turns to go.

“You look tired,” Farah murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it. “When Price wants to fix things, let him.”

“Mhm.” You nod quickly without really hearing her. You’re pretty sure you’d agree to anything right now just to escape the knowing intensity of Farah’s gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

After Farah leaves, you feel like you need another day off. It’s all you can do to just sit in your comfortably padded office chair and groan like a moron, because Jesus Christ you’ve made such a mess of things.

It was bad enough when you were pining like an idiot from afar; you’ve had crushes before, and you know that you would have outgrown it eventually. But then you had your stupid little meltdown in front of Price, and revealed more than you intended, and all of a sudden you’ve made yourself into a fool in front of the squad you’ve tried so hard to impress these last few months.

You have to try hard not to spiral. In fact, it’s a challenge not to cave and grab your phone to call Laswell all over again to demand a reassignment right this second. You have a pretty good idea of what she’d say to you in response, but still, the impulse remains.

All you can do is put it from your mind. You potter about, printing Farah’s photograph so you can tuck it neatly into her file with a paperclip, and then decide to start replying to the many emails that have built up in your absence.

The emails vary in tone, from polite enquiries to not-so-polite demands for you to solve some administrative issues, and you sigh quietly as you respond to some of the more snotty messages from upper management. And if you’re a little bit passive aggressive, then you don’t think anyone can blame you.

Your mind has finally quietened, focusing on your work as the buzz of your thoughts settle down, when another knock sounds out from your door. This one is firmer than Farah’s soft knock from earlier, and a little louder, though this time you don’t look up from your screen.

“Come in.” You call, chewing at your lip as you struggle to keep the wording of your email civil.

You’re half-expecting it to be Soap this time around, or maybe one of the recruits hoping to get you to sign off on their leave. So when you finally glance up only to catch sight of the broad, thick-shouldered figure of Captain Price stepping into your office, you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

Email abandoned, you half jolt to your feet before changing your mind mid-movement and attempting to sit back down. It ends up being a humiliating sort of jerky motion, and you pray that he somehow missed it entirely.

“Captain.” You wheeze, your voice coming out a little weak.

Price’s cool blue eyes dart over your face and then down the length of your body, and you become suddenly, mortifyingly aware of the state you’re in. You might not want to admit it, but your wardrobe definitely changes when the Captain isn’t on deployment. Instead of professional trousers, you wear your tight knee-length pencil skirts and fitted shirts, and totter around in your heels. And it’s silly, but… well, you can’t help but notice the way Price’s eyes follow you when you dress like that, and you like his attention on you.

Except today, you hadn’t been planning on running into Price. You hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so you had dressed for comfort — you’re wearing a pair of frumpy grey wool trousers and a super over-sized soft purple sweater that practically swallows you whole. You haven’t even done your hair nicely, and you curse yourself. This has to be the least sexy you’ve looked in months.

“D’you’ve a moment, love?”

His voice seems loud in the quiet of your office, even though realistically you know he’s only speaking in a murmur. In the quiet days you’ve spent alone in your apartment, you’d almost forgotten how lovely and low and gruff his voice is, and you feel your toes curl in your shoes at the sound of it.

It’s not as though you can refuse him, though you’re already embarrassingly aware of the way in which you had stormed off the last time you had seen him.

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly in an attempt to strengthen your voice, but it still comes out high and thready. “Sure.”

As if he had just been waiting for permission, Price steps into the room properly and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, the room feels a little claustrophobic. Price is a big man, broad-shouldered and thickly built with a soft layer of fat cushioning those hard muscles, and you can’t help but feel as though his presence is sucking all of the air out of the room.

But still, he approaches slowly, like you’re some kind of feral cat. Those sharp eyes of his are still tracking over you; he never misses a beat, and you know that he’s taking stock of you in the same way he would for an enemy out on the field. You feel raw, uncomfortably vulnerable. You find yourself wishing wildly and ridiculously that you had worn your usual fitted shirt and pencil skirt, or at least put on a bit of makeup.

“You look rested.” He notes, coming to a slow stop just in front of your desk.

You suddenly curse your last minute choice to stay seated, because now Price’s big body is towering over you in a way that’s honestly making your head swim a little.

“Yeah.” Your voice is a little hoarse. “I guess.”

Price nods, inhales through his nose. A moment passes before he clears his throat and reaches out to place a handful of files on your desk. Despite the plain manila envelopes, you recognise them for what they are almost immediately; the personnel files for 141.

“Finished ‘em off for you while you were gone.” He says gruffly, as though it were no big deal. “Nearly had to nail Soap down to a chair for that damn photo.”

You stare at the files for a long moment, making no move to open them. You find yourself totally, utterly lost for words.

“This is–” You start to say, and truthfully you’re not sure where you’re going with that. You think you’re about to thank him, but he doesn’t really give you the chance to.

“Why don’t we talk?” He says, and motions to the dinky little couch in the corner of the room as if he owns it.

You hesitate a moment, a little peeved about the effortless way he takes command in your own office, but relent and push yourself up from the desk. You don’t make eye contact with Price as you step around him, walking to the corner, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same.

The couch had come with the office, and you don’t even really want to think about how old it is, but you sink down awkwardly onto it anyway. The cushions are worn and threadbare and the springs creak gratingly when you settle your weight onto it, but it’s fine. It does the job.

You’re half-expecting Price to drag the spare chair at your desk over so he can sit opposite you – you’re not expecting him to step right up next to you before he drops down next to you, sighing as his thick thighs spread wide.

You barely bite back a squeak, a little bewildered. You’re not surprised that he’s asked to talk to you. Your behaviour had been wildly inappropriate, and you couldn’t exactly protest if he’s decided to caution you or something.

But you had expected it to be a more formal affair; sitting together on the pathetic, dingy little couch in your office feels entirely too casual for the dressing down you’re sure you’re about to receive.

“Think we’re due a discussion about the other day.” He says, gentler than you had been expecting.

You avoid his eyes, though you can feel his stare boring into the side of your face. Ugh. Time to eat humble pie, you think miserably.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You keep your voice as dispassionate and prim as possible. “My behaviour was unprofessional and entirely unacceptable, and I have no excuse. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

It’s as professional an apology as you can manage, and you chance a quick side glance at him to see his reaction. Your stomach sinks when you see that his brow is creased in a frown, and you panic a little at the realisation that your apology hasn’t helped matters at all.

“Well,” His voice is gruff enough to elicit a little shiver from you. “I wasn’t–” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t looking for an apology.”

That finally makes you turn properly, your eyes darting nervously over his face. He’s already watching you, his blue eyes searing under the brim of his stupid hat. He’s trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him; the salt and pepper bristles of his moustache and chops are neat and shortened. He looks good, though you try not to notice. He doesn’t look as dehydrated or drained as he did a few days ago either, though he still leans into the couch with an air of quiet exhaustion.

“Paperwork has never been my favourite thing in the world,” He confesses with an air of chagrin that’s painfully endearing to you. “Always found it a pain, to be honest. Puts me right out of sorts. I was… short with you, the other day.”

You frown, making yourself small on the couch. “You said I wasn’t necessary.”

Price winces, then reaches up and pulls his boonie hat off his head so that he can drag a hand over his short-cropped hair. Though you had insulted it only the other day, it strikes you as odd to see him with a bare head.

“Shouldn’t have said that.” He mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hat hang from his hands. “You’ve been great these last few months. Don’t know what I’d have done without you, sometimes.”

You’re stupid. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise. You fidget, glance away, and pray he doesn’t notice.

“You know I’m no good at deskwork,” He says, and leans in a little closer like he thinks you’re not listening properly. “Don’t have the head for it. I think you’re the reason the team runs so smoothly in the first place, love.”

The flattery is being laid on a little too thick, but it works. You fall for it entirely, a warm glow settling over you like a blanket, wrapping around you tight and soothing the jagged edges of your anger and anxiety. You hate that you’re so easy to appease, a couple of sweet compliments and assurances falling from your Captain’s lips assuaging all that upset that you’ve been carrying around with you for days now.

But still, part of you isn’t quite willing to let go of the sting, the hurt that his words and his harsh tone had caused.

“Is this you apologising, then?” You ask, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, close-mouthed. “Yeah. It is. Not doin’ too good, am I?”

“You’re doing okay.” You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. “But you can keep going, if you’d like.”

Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You don’t think you’ve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months you’ve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.

“Shouldn’t have snapped at you,” He says slowly. “You do good work. Great work. You shouldn’t feel like you’re not a valued member of the team.”

You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.

“I overreacted,” You mumble reluctantly. “I shouldn’t… your hat isn’t stupid.”

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee.

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you on the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry.

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure.

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch.

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing.

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged.

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs.

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a fine line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return.

“Yes.” You breathe, although you’re not entirely sure that you do know what you’re asking for. All you know is that he’s so close, and he’s staring at you with an expression of such hunger that it’s making you feel weak.

Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.

It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself you’re burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction – everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Price’s full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.

The kiss doesn’t start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Price’s big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming.

Price’s big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but it’s not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.

You swing your leg over Price’s, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but you’re still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.

“I’ve been–” You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. “I’ve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anything–”

Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else.

“Sh, I know,” He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. “I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

And the thing is, you’re a very capable woman. You’ve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that you’re capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Price’s praise sinks into you like warm honey.

“Watching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.” He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. “And those heels– completely impractical for a military base like this.”

You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that you’re currently perched in your Captain’s lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that he’s been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.

Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isn’t that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big man’s lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that you’re valuable, and important.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. “You’re a handful.”

You’d love to argue that – you like to think that you’re perfectly measured and sensible, after all – but you’re already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you can’t stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.

Price’s breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. “Hang on a sec,” He breathes, “Hold on. I’m still– I’m still your Captain–”

You think that it’s meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation you’re in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What you’re doing right now is ridiculous, after all. You’re still on base, you’re in your office, and if the two of you get caught you don’t even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldn’t apply here, since you’re only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.

But if it is a warning, it doesn’t work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily –

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face.

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him.

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs.

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy.

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious.

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering.

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy.

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static.

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent.

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside.

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you.

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him.

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in.

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much.

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today.

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach.

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness.

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest.

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him.

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

#PLEASE don't look at me right now i will be taking NO questions on my state of mind #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john price smut #cod smut #cod fic #141 x reader #daddy issues price

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targaryen-dynasty · 4 months

Text

PRAY FOR ME.

Dark!Prince Regent!Aemond x niece!Reader

Trying to persuade you to declare yourself for their side in the war of succession, Aemond relies on different methods to make your façade crumble.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; DUB-CON, p in v, dry humping, petting, breeding, power imbalance, praise kink, humiliating, degrading, canon typical incest/targcest, no mention of reader’s appearance, Dark!Prince Regent Aemond is a warning himself

WORDS: 5.3 K

NOTES: The title is inspired by Kendrik Lamar‘s song, as it’s about loss, loyalty, sacrifice and redemption. Something reader struggles with in this. This is also dedicated to and written for @black-dread. I‘ll spoil you rotten for as long as I’m on this app. ILU.

You had lost track of how long you had been forced to stay isolated in your chambers. It could have been days, but it also could have been many moons by now.

The only company you got were the serving girls coming three times a day to serve you food and something to drink, and bring you water for a bath – everything else was left for you to do on your own.

It was a cold comfort that you got to spend your days in the chambers you had occupied during your childhood, but still better than to be stuck in one of the cells or the dark dungeons.

Apart from the Dowager Queen visiting you a few times in the early days, trying to persuade you to side with them in the upcoming war of succession, you hadn’t heard from anybody else. You did not even know what progress your mother’s side had made over the time you had been locked away, and what precipitations they had to suffer.

Deep down you knew Alicent was only after your dragon to gain support, because, with not more than three adult dragons, they clearly were outnumbered. But that knowledge, however, didn’t stop the doubts about your mother from rising.

You had not expected to be saved by them, but you had firmly believed to receive at least one letter by raven in secret – yet not one had come.

There were enough people loyal to your father, mother or both of them in the Red Keep, and the chances of one raven reaching you were not too far-fetched.

It was your deceased grandsire that had stated back then that the crown could not stand strong if the House of the Dragon remained divided, and now it was tearing itself down.

The tension truly had simmered at the last supper you shared with all of them — if it hadn’t been for your uncle to raise a toast to your strong half-brothers, forcing them and your parents to depart for Dragonstone in the midst of the night.

You had stayed behind, wanting to make up for the time you had lost with your grandsire ever since your family had relocated.

What proved to be a terrible mistake.

In the following morning, you had awoken to a commotion outside of your chamber’s doors, only to find it locked and with no way for you to escape.

You hardly learned what had been going on when three maids scurried into your chambers no less than six hours later, bathing you and dressing you for an important occasion, yet not telling you what it was.

A queasy feeling had weighed you down back then, which was confirmed by Alicent coming into your chambers right after to briefly inform you of Viserys’ passing and their plans to put Aegon on the throne, forcing you to attend the coronation.

She had assured your safety — for as long as you would declare yourself for Aegon.

For a fortnight she had blessed you with her presence, after you had witnessed the coronation and the frightening exit of Rhaenys and Meleys. She had inquired about your well-being after, but not without asking if and how you had chosen.

You had stated that you would never dare declare yourself for your mother’s usurper, and the will to keep your word was strong at the very beginning, until it wasn‘t anymore, the choice fickle and marked by your doubts. By your loneliness.

Suddenly, Alicent had stopped visiting you. You assumed she was done hearing you reject her offer, and even though you loathed her, it had been nice to have someone to talk to – even if it was forced and merely for her own benefit.

Most of your days you sat in silence, waiting for the moment someone would open the door to bring you to the place where they would take your head and end your life.

But at the same time you knew that it made more sense for them to keep you alive and locked up, minimizing the chances of having you fight against their forces or even risking another enemy to claim Vermithor.

Darkness had overtaken King’s Landing some time ago when the rustling of metal caught your attention, a deep voice booming behind the locked doors. Never before in your life had you shut a book so quickly, almost throwing it aside in plain fear.

The dark mop of Criston Cole’s hair was the first thing you saw, and your instincts forced you to bring as much space as possible between you and him.

Despite your father being none other than the Rogue Prince himself, having learned it by accident after eavesdropping on a conversation you should not have heard, you lacked his fighting experience and hadn’t been trained with the sword. All efforts to get away from the man they dubbed the Kingmaker therefore were fruitless.

It might have been the mistrust caused by Rhaenys‘ escape, highly doubting your refusal to come with him was intimidating enough, but a thick ribbon was tied around your wrists to keep you bound and secured as he guided you out of your chambers.

It was clear it was a volatile decision, assuming he had taken the ribbon from one of the maids' clothing, but you were glad he had not put you in shackles.

“His Grace wishes to speak to you,“ another guard accompanying you two barked after an endless amount of pestering, annoyed that you only wanted to learn if it was the fateful night the Stranger would take you.

The path they led you along was not unfamiliar, and when the heavy doors to the Throne Room opened, you were roughly shoved into the darkness, barely illuminated by the light a few torches and candles granted.

At the far end of the room on the massive throne sat who you assumed was your uncle Aegon, the Conqueror's crown atop his silver mane and shimmering in the light.

His presence felt heavy, overwhelming even, and forced your eyes to dart to the ground, watching every step as Criston all but pushed you towards the seat that was destined for your mother.

Preparing to meet your fate, the color drained from your face as you spotted the wrong uncle sitting on the throne, looking exactly like he had the last time you two were in the same room.

It was the evening before the Stranger had taken your grandsire, the only difference was the crown forged for none other than Aegon the First sitting on his head.

The Iron Throne loomed large behind his lithe frame, looking every bit as intimidating as Aemond in his all black attire, clad in leather from his boots up to the eyepatch, and a dagger strapped to his waist.

His one good eye studied you carefully, almost curiously, remaining on you even as Aemond rose from the throne, stepping down to approach you. With the intensity of his gaze, you felt almost bare in the black nightgown you wore, though the high neckline and long skirt didn’t give anything of your modesty away.

“Leave us,” Aemond’s voice eventually pierced through, the words said in a tone void of any emotion.

You heard Criston‘s armor clink behind you. “But, Your Grace, I–”

“Rest assured I can handle her,” Aemond interrupted.

And then the man behind you left the room at once, leaving only you and your uncle. It was eerily quiet, quite different from the Throne Room you knew back as your grandsire occupied the large seat.

You gazed down at the ribbon still tied around your wrists, tugging at it once to distract yourself from the steely gaze of Aemond burning through your skin, unsettling you.

“Do you know why I brought you here?” he asked in the same cold tone, sizing you up.

When your head tilted up again, meeting his eye, you spotted it darting towards your neck, causing your skin to heat up. Briefly looking to the side, you shrugged your shoulders. “To get rid of me, I assume,” you replied, trying hard to suppress the shaking in your voice.

A low ‘hm’ rumbled in his chest, and you spotted his lilac eye moving from yours downwards to your neck again. Something must have caught his attention, causing him to smirk as if he had seen a particularly fine artwork.

When he reached to slightly tug the neckline of your nightgown down, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your eyes widened – intrigued or afraid, you weren’t quite certain.

The pendant of your necklace was pinched between his fingers, and you glanced down to spot his thumb dragging over the small sapphire in the center of it.

It was the Valyrian steel necklace he had gifted you to your name day, acquired on one of his rare journeys onto the streets of King‘s Landing long before he had lost his eye.

“You were meant to be mine, you know?” His voice remained mostly unemotional, yet a lilt of affection became evident in his tone for a second, the corners of his lips quirking up. It appeared as if he had thought back to the times you two had spent together at court, without a care and without the burdens of the crown on your shoulders.

The frown on your face encouraged him to carry on, a smirk still adorning his lips. “Do you remember when we practiced dancing when we were ten-and-one?” Oh, how you remembered. Aegon had always been a drunken fool, stepping on your feet and pushing you around out of the rhythm of the music, while Aemond had been nothing less than gentle and careful with you, laughing whenever you or he stepped onto each other's toes.

“I never thought someone could have such delicate feet, such–”

“Why am I here, Aemond?” you pressed, not wanting to dwell on the fond memories you had shared even longer with your heart rate rising with every word.

His smirk faltered for a split second, the eye that wasn’t concealed by black leather widening. One of his hands found the small of your back, and he used the grip to pull you towards him. “I could treat you right,” he said, his voice growing softer.

It was evident he knew how he made you feel. He knew you had admired him back then, you had confessed it before your family left for Dragonstone, and he just assumed you still did. You had admired his boldness and courage, his wit — and nothing had changed.

But it also felt as if he merely intended to persuade you for the same reasons his mother had tried to do, the fluttering emotions flattening out as quickly as they had soared through your body.

You took a step back in an attempt to create some space between you. Aemond didn’t hold onto you, he didn’t stop you, but his hand stayed in the air as if he meant to reach for you again. But he didn’t.

“I know, and I can‘t…,“ you said. I want to, but I can‘t betray my own mother, my own blood, was what you thought. “No.“

The lingering feelings of loneliness and abandonment had you wanting to give in. You wanted to give in to him more than anything. It was what you had desired for so, so long. But you had to remain strong, even though you were left to fend all by yourself, for none of your family had come to save you.

“No, I won’t declare myself for Aegon,“ you said, looking him straight in the eye. You tried to keep your voice cold, though it was clear that something inside of you tried to crawl to the surface.

An arrogant smile etched onto his features at your words. He could see your resistance weaken, spot your eyes flickering between his good one and his lips. Your attraction was not as hidden to him as you would have liked it to be.

“Your fears are unfounded, little niece.“ He caressed your cheek with a gentle touch, while mischief flickered in the lilac of his eye, juxtaposing his actions. “Let me show you just how well I could treat you. Let me show you that you matter… to me.“

Your fears were not unfounded. Not in the prospect of committing treason should your mother ever ascend the throne. But it was his gentle touch that made you weak, though you tried to hold onto the last threads of your resolve, trying your best to remain loyal to the side of the family that had obviously long abandoned you to rot in the viper’s nest.

“No,” you muttered softly in response, looking away once more. I must not, for I shall regret this, you thought. The fear to betray your mother by giving in to him was too big, but in the end it was far outweighed by your lust for him.

It was as if Aemond could spot the exact moment in which your resistance started to crumble, because in a swift movement, he had his hand right where it had rested on your waist before, and used the grip to turn you around, forcing your back flush against his chest.

The gasp you released was loud, but nothing compared to the way your heartbeat pounded in your ears as his other hand clasped around your throat, your tied hands immediately coming up to seize his wrist.

He had heard one no too much, his patience running thin. “I’ll show you that you belong to me,” he rasped into your ear, a shiver running down your spine that settled at the apex of your legs.

Squeezing your throat once, Aemond urged you forwards, shoving you towards one of the big column statues of the Throne Room.

Without tilting your head up, it wasn’t as if you had the chance to do so with your cheek pressed against the cold stone, you knew it was Aenys the First looking down at you two. And if he would've known what was going to take place right under the keepsake dedicated to his memory, he would’ve ordered his dragon to burn the keep to ashes at once.

Aemond’s weight pressed you against the column, your hands pinned over your head by one of his large ones. With his lips close to your ear, hot and heavy breath fanning over your flushed skin, you couldn’t even bring yourself to care about the trap you found yourself in.

“I’ll show you what you are,” he said. You firmly believed for him to make a jab at you, similar to what he had said at supper, but it didn’t come. Instead, his lips landed on your neck, not lingering long enough to press more than one chaste kiss to your skin before he pulled back to speak again, “mine.”

You weren’t quite sure whether you wanted to leave or not – for your mind had gone blank. The possessiveness laced within his cold voice, the burning where his lips had pressed a kiss to your neck, and his hands on your body were the only things on your mind.

The nightgown you wore was thin enough for you to feel even the faintest of his touches, fingertips roaming over the curve of your waist down to your arse, driving you to insanity.

Mewling and squirming in his grasp like a trapped kitten, the husky chuckle behind you gave away that he was more than enjoying this. You were giving in, your resolve crumbling, and he knew you were enjoying it just as much as him.

“There, is that my sweet, little niece I missed from court?” he whispered softly, while his hand fisted the skirts of your nightgown, lifting it enough to allow his hand to snake underneath. Goosebumps prickled on your skin, much more at the sudden realization of just how close he was.

His fingers mindlessly ghosted over the linen of your smallclothes, the outside of your thigh, but never coming close enough to where you wanted him most.

“Did you miss me, princess?” There was a sense of affection weaving itself through his cold tone, only for him to emphasize your title in such a condescending manner, it had your heart beating wildly in your chest.

When there didn’t come an answer, he connected his palm with your arse in a way that had your whole body jerking, your thighs trying to squeeze together to diminish the aching. But Aemond had his foot firmly planted between yours, his knee positioned high enough to make any movements impossible.

“I asked you a question,” the prince behind you snarled, the grip of his hand on your wrists bruising, feeling as if he meant to crush your bones. “Did you miss me?”

“Y-yes,” your voice was low, almost shy, “yes, Aemond, I missed you.”

A satisfied hum rumbled in his chest, and, trying to catch a glimpse of him from over your shoulder, you spotted his characteristic smirk on his lips, seeming even more devilish with the red rubies of the Conqueror's Crown shimmering in the dim light.

His fingers traced over the contours of your thigh before they dragged over your clothed cunt more firmly, and you choked on a moan, trying your best to stifle the sound in case anyone were to barge into the Throne Room.

But seeing how much your body ached for him, how badly you wanted him, Aemond didn’t care whether you were too loud or not.

He just enjoyed having you at his mercy, unable to really see him or get away from him. You were completely depending on him and whatever he wanted to do to and with you.

Aemond pressed his clothed member against your lower back, letting you feel its hardness and making his desire for you clear.

You were unable to escape him, but you didn’t even want to for the heat emanating from him drove you insane, not able to contain your desire and passion any longer. Your smallclothes were clinging to your soaked womanhood, and the aching you felt between your legs started to become uncomfortable.

When his head tipped towards yours, your eyes searched for his, wanting to lock gazes and beg for him to finally free you from his torments. But his good eye didn’t meet yours.

The pressure on your wrists released with his arm snaking around your waist, holding you tightly in place while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“Four moons did I have to walk these halls with the knowledge of you waiting for me behind one of these doors,” he gruffed into your ear. “Do you know how badly I have longed for this moment to happen? How long I had to wait to finally be able to claim you as mine? There will be no one else desiring to have you once I am done with you.”

You didn’t answer him for your voice was gone as you panted for air. Your body was shaking, wanting him oh so desperately.

“All you have to do is to swear to me, niece,” he said, his lips moving along your neck, nibbling and licking over your skin. It should have concerned you. It should have felt like a knife to your heart. And your body felt as if it was on fire, but it was ignited by his lips and fingers working the most sensitive spots on your body, not by his words. “Just give me your word, and you will be mine.”

That was the moment his true intentions showed, juxtaposed by his lingering touches and the desire in his voice.

His caresses had pushed you to your limits. You were drunk on him, drunk on his warmth, his scent and the dominance he displayed over you. “I swear, I-I swear,” you stammered, “All of it, I pledge myself to you, Aemond.”

Aemond had you, and there was no way to refuse him now, no way to stop him. You were giving into his touches, his words, his presence. You were his.

As you arched your back against his frame, he was caught off guard and took a step back, inhaling a sharp breath at the friction your arse created against his stiff member. You seized the opportunity and spun on your heels, staring at Aemond with wide, lust blown eyes.

He was on you in a matter of seconds, backing you firmly up against the column again. But this time, his mouth was on yours, kissing you with a burning need. Slipping past your lips, his tongue moved to explore your mouth, sliding back and forth along yours.

You whimpered into the kiss, the heat of desire weakening your knees. Aemond pressed himself against you, his body molding around yours as his hands traveled over your sides, consuming you entirely.

With his hands trailing down to your thighs, he hoisted you up and wrapped them around his waist, supporting your weight as he slowly walked towards the Iron Throne. It seemed as if he knew the path by heart, your lips not parting once for him to watch his step.

Sitting down on the throne, you sat astride him, hunched over and gazing down at him, while his half-lidded eye studied you carefully. It darted down to your bound wrists, and his nimble fingers were quick to reach for his dagger and slice through the fabric.

You massaged the reddened flesh with a soft hiss, though you were not sure it was prompted by the ministrations of your own hands or Aemond’s harshly digging into your hips. You closed your eyes, frighteningly aware of the dagger pinched between his digits, and tried to squirm away from his grasp with a jerk, dragging your clothed cunt over the protruding bulge in the front of his breeches.

A blush covered your cheeks as it dawned on you what you had done, more so as you heard him draw in a sharp breath, and you sheepishly folded your hands in front of you, looking down at them.

Raising an eyebrow, Aemond leaned back against the throne, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Your lack of self-control humors me,” he said, his voice mocking and full of judgment. You swallowed thickly, heat blossoming in your belly. “I only let you have a little bit of me, but you seem so desperate to have me fully.”

With his hands still on your hips, he started to guide them back and forth, dragging your cunt over his hard cock. His head tipped back slightly, and the bump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed each time you rutted against his member.

The coil in your belly tightened slowly, and encouraged you enough to grind your hips against him all by yourself, your breathy whimpers growing in volume.

“All it took for you to give in was my cock, mh?” he groaned, one hand entangling in your hair to bring your face level with his, “and I have yet to stuff it inside.”

A breathy whimper was all you managed to release at his words, your lips agape with shaky breaths escaping them. The movements of your hips didn’t stop once, chasing the pleasure that built inside of you.

Half-lidded eyes fixed with his good one, and, even in the dim light, you could see that the lilac hue of it was almost eclipsed by black.

“Pray tell, how badly do you want my cock, niece?” he asked, a lilt of mockery in the baritone of his voice. But you could not form a coherent thought. The profanity of his words, and the way his hardness pressed so firmly against your aching cunt robbed you of your ability to think.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” he warned, fingers digging into your flesh to halt your movements, and causing the pleasure to dissolve just as quickly as it came.

Pouting at the loss of friction, you were forced to find your voice again. “So, so badly,” you whined, sounding more desperate than intended. “Give-Give it to me… please.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, eagerly anticipating his next move, though there was disappointment igniting inside of you as Aemond merely tsked at your words. “My my, look at you. You came here convinced the Stranger would take you in your mother’s name, and now you are begging for my cock, begging me to finally put an end to your suffering. Who would have thought that my cock would turn you into a traitor?”

You would have felt ashamed and guilty you gave in to him, to the enemy, but the only thing on your mind right now was the longing to be filled and consumed by him. If there was a traitor, it was your mother for not once inquiring about you or saving you from your misery.

Caressing your cheek in an unusually tender manner, you all but melted into his touch. “But how could I ever say no to my sweet, little niece? You have been such a good girl, let me give you what you desire.”

Aemond bundled the skirt of your nightgown in one hand, revealing your undergarments to him. In a careful movement, he dragged the sharp tip of the dagger from the curve of your waist down your side, hooking it beneath the waistband to easily slice through the linen.

As he pushed it to the side, his eye fixed your exposed womanhood like a man starved, ready to feast on you at any given moment. It was amusing to watch him recklessly throw the dagger aside and fumble with the laces of his breeches, a stark contrast to the stern and cold demeanor he had kept before.

Grasping hold of your hips firmly, he lifted them slightly before he aligned the tip of his cock with your cunt. “Let us see how well you can take me.“

He pressed his cock against your tight entrance, feeling the resistance as he prepared to ease into you. One hand moved to cup your arse, supporting you, and allowing you to lower yourself on him. And, with a swift buck of his hips, a seemingly impatient Aemond met yours halfway, filling you completely at once.

Your face contorted in pleasure at the sensation, the burning of the stretch quickly melting into a feeling of plain bliss. “Gods,” you whimpered, clenching tightly around him.

With slow grinds, you started to adjust to his size, growing bolder and bolder with each swivel of your hips over his.

“Feels so–”

“Good, I know,” he finished your sentence, the words accompanied by a raspy groan. His head tipped back against the throne, his hands mindlessly tracing over your sides as he groaned a ‘you feel so fucking good’ that had you biting your bottom lip, keening at the praise.

Every now and then, Aemond bucked his hips up into yours, the intensity forcing you to topple forwards, causing you to plant your hands firmly on his shoulders. His cock was bullying the sweet spot inside of you that made you see stars, causing your fingers to dig into his shoulders.

One of his hands settled at your breast, groping it through the thin fabric of your shift. His fingers pinched and teased your hardened bud, and with the added pleasure, your moans grew more wanton.

“Shit, you’re taking me so well,” he rambled, seemingly cunt struck by the way your walls clenched and released around him every time you sank down his hard member. “You may be a princess, but I shall make you my Queen. You belong to me.” Though his voice was still gruff, it had gained an added layer of intimacy, reflecting in the way he looked up at you.

Your heart hammered in your chest at the sight and his words, and the pace of your hips faltered as he brought his hand up to grab a hold of the Conqueror's Crown, taking it off his head to place it on top of yours.

“It looks better on you than it ever did on him,“ he panted, his voice genuine as he stared up at you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

You moved a hand upwards to hold the crown steady, afraid it would fall to the ground with the impact of your hips colliding with his. Your body moved on its own accord, hips grinding down on him, riding him as you chased your pleasure.

You moaned softly, “By the Seven, Aemond, so good.“

Spurred on by the sight of you wearing the crown and fucking yourself stupid on his cock, he firmly planted his feet on the ground to piston his hips up into yours, meeting you halfway.

The sound of skin slapping on skin was not really audible with him barely pushing his breeches down enough to free his hard cock, the hem of his tunic sitting low enough to cover most of his lower stomach. But there was no need for it, for your heavy pants, grunts and moans were loud enough to echo off the walls of the empty Throne Room.

Aemond’s thumb started to drag over the little bud at the apex of your legs, sending a bolt of pleasure up your spine, causing the knot in your belly to tighten rapidly. Your breath quickened, and your walls clenched around him so tightly, you were not sure if they even unclenched once.

“I shall fill you up, put a child in you,” he grunted, gaze fixed on where you both were connected, watching himself repeatedly disappear inside of your tight cunt. “Do you want that?” His tone made it clear that it was not a question, but you still whimpered several yesses in return, merging into a loud cry of his name as your peak washed over you.

He drove his hips up into yours, fucking you through your high despite your body crouching forwards and your hips stilling, merely clinging to him for dear life as the pleasure soared through your body, coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

“And when you’re with my child, you will not be able to get away from me,” he rambled, inhaling sharply as he felt his stones tighten, nearing his own peak. “You are-,“ he hissed in between, “You are all mine.”

You were trembling astride him, barely registering his words and whining when you felt how your peak’s contractions were practically forcing the spend out of your uncle‘s cock, milking him for every drop of his seed.

There was silence between you, safe for your heavy breathing, as if you both waited for the other’s voice to cut through it.

The realization of the repercussions your actions and words would bring settled a few moments later, when the haze of your peak cleared, and you spotted Aemond looking up at you with a smug smirk on his lips.

“The crown on your head is a promise of the fact that I will make you my Queen,” he purred, a cold edge to his voice. Aemond licked his lips, and grazed his hands over your hips, squeezing your flesh. “I have claimed you, and I will make use of you however and whenever I see fit.”

As he spoke, you slowly realized what he meant and felt yourself growing warm inside all over again, clenching around his flaccid member. It felt exhilarating to know that he would not hesitate to take full advantage of you, and there was excitement filling your body. But most importantly, it felt as if you finally found a place where you belonged, where you were wanted and seen.

“That is how it is going to be,” you whispered, nodding once to emphasize your words. “I-I am all yours.”

Aemond leaned forwards and rested his forehead against yours, releasing a deep sigh before his smooth voice interrupted the short moment of intimacy and proximity.

“With you now sworn to me, I believe ‘tis time to bring you back in the fold. There is much that has happened since you last were at court.”

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starkwlkr · 9 months

Note

Hey it would be great if you could write Charles and readers initial days as first time parents with ruby and how Charles got separation anxiety when he left his daughter for Singapore gp.

only these words | charles leclerc

title is literally my favorite chris cornell song 🫶🏼 i miss him

Charles fell in love with Ruby the second he laid eyes on her. She was practically his twin. Y/n joked that she had basically given birth to Charles’ twin. His family and friends came to visit in the hospital. It was hard to get Charles to hand over Ruby.

After Y/n was discharged from the hospital, the new family was headed home. Charles knew that Ruby wouldn’t understand anything he was saying, but he didn’t care since he kept explaining any little thing to his daughter as he drove back home.

“Those floaty things are called boats. When you’re older, you can get on one.”

It was like that for several weeks. Y/n saw how in love Charles was with fatherhood. He would change diapers, feed her and even got up in the middle of the night to calm the crying baby. One time, Y/n had listened to Charles talk to baby Ruby through the baby monitor after she had woken up.

“You’re so tiny. You’re my little princess, don’t tell your maman i said that, she might get jealous.” Charles softly spoke

Y/n chuckled. She continued listening.

“No matter what, you will always be my little princess. I guess that makes me a king and your maman would be the queen. A little girl born to a king and a queen. Princess Ruby Jules,” Charles went on. “I love you.”

And of course Charles would say those words to his little princess every night.

Thankfully Ruby was born during a break from the races so Charles was home for the first days of fatherhood. Eventually, it was time to leave his girls and return to the track which was something he didn’t want to do. The day before his flight, Charles was in Ruby’s nursery watching her sleep peacefully. He felt guilty for leaving, but Y/n assured him they would be okay since Pascale and Carla would take care of both of them.

“But what if there’s an emergency? You two need me here.” Charles said to Y/n.

“Ferrari needs you too.” Y/n replied.

“My girls are much more important than Ferrari. They can wait.”

When morning came, Charles didn’t even want to wake up. He understood he had a job and he needed to leave, but the thought of leaving his family broke his heart even if it was just for a few days.

“Charles, I will call you every day and night.” Y/n assured him.

“Why if Ruby forgets me?” Charles wondered.

“How could she forget her papa? She’s never going to forget you.”

It took everything to get Charles on the flight to Singapore on time. He kept giving kisses to both of his girls and telling them how much he was going to miss them.

“We’re going to be okay, my love. Ruby and I will be cheering for our favorite red car.” Y/n smiled and pressed a light kiss on Charles’ cheek.

“Mine?”

“No, number fifty five.”

y/nleclerc has added to their story

#formula 1 #inbox <3 #anon #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #baby leclerc series #charles leclerc imagine

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raggedytiger · 2 months

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my debut to tadc tumblr.. you know how people remember songs better than anything? lyrics better than sentences etc? i think they all know some of the same songs, even if they dont remember who wrote them, or what the title is, or where they first heard it. it's much easier to feel grounded when you're singing queen and abba, just because the others know the words too.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc fanart #my art #art #tadc pomni #pomni #tadc ragatha #ragatha #tadc jax #jax #tadc gangle #gangle #buttonblossom #pomni x ragatha #ragapom #the amazing digital circus fanart #tadc comic

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httpsuniverse · 9 months

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right where you left lover girl [ charles leclerc , ben chilwell ]

[ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 ] — charles leclerc x singer!ex!reader ; ben chilwell x singer!reader . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 🫂 °. *

[ 𝗗𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦 & 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ] — mostly angst, some romance . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ ℹ️ °. *

࣪˖ 💭 .. 𝗘𝗬𝗔’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⌕ clearing my drafts again 😵‍💫 if you ask me, i’m obsessed with singer!reader fics lol

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © httpsuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

cleclercsource

26,929 likes

cleclercsource double date in wimbledon 🎾 charles, alex, kika and pierre spotted in today’s game!

view all 2,719 comments

user alex looks so pretty and i know she’s nice because i met her once, but i miss y/n ☹️

user :(( i do too, but it’s just not meant to be. they both want different things and are in different places in the relationship

user damn why did THAT hurt

user no offense/hate towards alex but the fact that y/n and charles have been together since they were thirteen just...pains me and i’m not even part of their relationship

user me too!! 😭 they literally went through ups and downs together and saw their careers go big :(

user yeah but i hate to break it to you guys but it’s been two years since they broke up and charles being in a new relationship is okay, they’re both adults! i mean, you guys know that eventually they’ll meet somebody, no?

user what pains me the most is that y/n hasn’t released anything since she and charles broke hp 😣💔 i miss my girl

user they look like mean girls

user i would be scared to walk past them

user love how alex is just happy to be there hahaha she’s so cute

yourusername

liked by yourlabel, sabrinacarpenter, selenagomez and 3,286,048 others

yourusername oh hi hello 👋🏻 i know it’s been a while since i’ve last released music and contributed to the industry, and i see everyone’s tweets saying how much they miss me and guess what? i missed you guys too, so here’s a little something for being so patient with me🤎 this song is very personal and important to me and i hope you’ll love it just how i loved writing it. right where you left me is now available to all streaming platforms 🎶

view all 150,837 comments

sabrinacarpenter 🫶 masterpiece

selenagomez proud of you✨😍

user omg y/n!!!

user the queen is back :( welcome back y/n!!

user streaming right NOW

user you cant do this to me y/n y/l/n!!!!!!!

user just got out of a 4-year relationship today, thanks for the masterpiece maam <3

yourusername 🤎 wish you all the best with healing

user OMG

user thanks y/n, now i do have a reason to cry today 😍

yourusername stopp bahahaha enjoyyy

prodbymika

250,297 likes

prodbymika glad to have produced another song and film a music video with my bestie 🫶 here’s some behind the scenes of y/n during recording and filming the music video of right where you left me <3

view all 17,926 comments

yourusername mika my love!!! ☹️🤎 thank youu couldn’t have done it without youuuu 🫶

user wait that place on the 3rd photo is familiar

user it’s charles and y/n’s place from their 24 hour with vogue video 😭

user omfg that’s probably why it’s titled right where you left me 😭

user the 😭 restaurant 😭 she 😭 and 😭 charles 😭 loved 😭

user fuck me im trying to move on 😭

user y/n wearing the same clothes she would wear during date nights with charles 💔☹️

yourprivate

yourprivate i know eventually it will lead to one of us meeting someone new. i hope she’ll love you the way that i did, more than how i loved you, charles. and i can’t believe that it’s been two years since we broke up. in my mind i’m still 23, living in my own delusion that one day you’ll come back to me. i loved you, charles_leclerc. and i still do. i really meant it when i said i wish you both the best. now, it’s time for me to move on and leave the place where you left me.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────────────────

yourusername

1,926,472 likes

yourusername me doing big girl things 😄 bye bye monaco 🇲🇨, hello london 🇬🇧 ready to make new memories, new songs and of course, new apartment tour video soon :p

view all 1,827 comments

user omggggggg the chances of me running to you are HIGHHHHH

yourusername see you aroundddd <3

user AAAAAAA

user omg omg omg she’s finally out of her delusions, we’re officially over right were you left me era !!!!!!

user she finally let go of the house she and charles shared 😭

user no bc imagine the adjustment!! she lived there even when she and charles broke up :(

user my girl can finally FINALLY breathe

benchilwell

liked by masonmount, reecejames, judebellingham and others

benchilwell you’re my, my, my, my lover 🩷

view all 23,816 comments

jackgrealish mate, that’s so cheesy 😂

reecejames i know something you don’t 🤧

masonmount i know something you will never know 😂

user NAHHHH QUIT PLAYING WITH US

user NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

user cong😭ratu😭lations😭

user now who is the lucky woman 🤔

user wait is that y/n

user what the hell

user i think soo!!!!

user STOP IM GONNA FUCKING CRY RN

yourusername

liked by cmpulisic, reecejames, masonmount, benchilwell and others

yourusername guys meet my london boy 🩷

view all 28,493 comments

benchilwell i told you not to post that picture of me

yourusername 😵‍💫 but you looked so cute and you helped me compose a song

masonmount he did? 😨

yourusername took us a while, but yep 🫡

user im so happy for you y/n!!!!

— ❤️ by yourusername

user why is y/n, a person who loves chinese food, dating a man who hasn’t eaten chinese food

yourusername don’t worry, i bought chinese the other day. he’s no longer chinese food virgin. i took his virginity.

benchilwell y/n y/l/n.

yourusername 😚 you liked it though

benchilwell okay fine yeah

user why do i feel like a new album will come out ...

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, benchilwell, prodbymika and 4,836,917 others

yourusername suprise (well... not so surprise haha) !! been working on this album the past year and it’s finally here and i can’t wait to share it with you guys so HERE YA GO 🩷😚 the whole album is dedicated to, of course, my lover, my benji, benchilwell i love youuuu and this album is my love letter to you (you spoiled the lyrics on your previous post 🙄 but its ok i forgive u now pls come back faster bc i miss u) enjoy everyone ! lover girl, y/n 🩷✨

view all 56,826 comments

benchilwell i love you angel 🩷

yourusername stopp im shy i miss you

benchilwell 😂 im coming over

user y/n in her lover era 🥹 happy for her, she deserves this!

user she really does 🥹

user STOPPP THIS WJOLE ALBUM IS JUST Y/N AND BEN BEING IN LOVENWITH EACH OTHER

user “all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing” BENJAMIN JAMES CHILWELL YOU ONE LUCKY MF

user y/n is SO in love i’m here for it

charles_leclerc congratulations on another amazing album, y/n!

yourusername thank you charles! 🫶

user HEY WHAT IS MR. RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME DOING HERE

user ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

yourusername we’re still friends guys, chill 😂

sabrinacarpenter YOU ARE AMAZING, Y/N

yourusername SAAAABBBB i love you ,, you are amazing

user from right where you left me to paper rings 🥺 THE GLOW UP

#charles leclerc imagine #ben chilwell imagine #charles leclerc angst #ben chilwell fluff #charles leclerc instagram au #ben chilwell instagram au #f1 imagine #football imagine #f1 fan fic #football fanfic #f1 x you #football x you #f1 x reader #football x reader #formula 1 imagine #football instagram au #f1 instagram au

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annes-andromeda · 5 months

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Wish Rewrite

I have this tendency for rewriting material I either don’t like or think had wasted potential. At the time of writing this, Wish hasn’t come out in theaters but I did pirate it as there was an early screening. I also read the junior novelization and bought the concept art book. Needless to say, I was disappointed by what I read/saw.

I feel like Wish could’ve been better. Granted, the story and characters are not terrible, but they certainly leave much to be desired. This is literally Disney’s 100th anniversary, yet it doesn’t really feel like it. Not only that, but the movie felt incredibly rushed. Yeah I know that most Disney movies try have a run time of 90-100+ minutes, but I think a few more minutes could’ve been added to this film.

So, I decided to indulge myself and outline some changes that I think could’ve made the story slightly better. These ideas are by no means perfect, and in the end, this is all in good fun.

Spoilers ahead btw

The main story of Wish is essentially that Asha wants to get a job as Magnifico’s apprentice so that her grandfather’s wish is granted. But Asha finds out about the King’s true nature, and after questioning him, doesn’t get the job, and Magnifico vows to never grant Sabino or Sakina’s wishes.

Asha makes a wish on a star, and the star comes down, Magnifico tries to hunt down the two of them, he uses an evil spell book to create a staff, Magnifico destroys some wishes, Asha gets help from her friends, they sing a song to defeat Magnifico (I ‘wish’ i was joking), Star gives Asha a magic wand, and all is well.

Oh, and Amaya is… there.

It’s nothing complex, pretty cut and dry. And I don’t have a problem with a simple story! But this feels like it’s… missing something.

Firstly, I’d change the title. Disney already has a boat called Wish, and not every movie needs to be one word like Tangled, Frozen, and Brave (amongst others), so the story could be renamed “Asha and the Wishing Star” or “Asha and the Kingdom of Wishes”. Idk, something that evokes a classic fairytale book feel (or that does confuse people with a boat).

((Side note #1: I honestly enjoy that the story started off with a book, as a nod to classic disney movies, especially Snow White. That was cute))

Secondly, and I know I sound like a broken record at this point…

AMAYA👏🏼SHOULDVE👏🏼BEEN👏🏼A👏🏼VILLAIN👏🏼ALONGSIDE👏🏼HER👏🏼HUSBAND👏🏼

The original plan, according to the concept art book, was to have Magnifico and Amaya to be a villain couple who were partners in crime and owned a black sphinx cat named Charo. However for… reasons, the creators took the ‘safe’ route and made Amaya the good one out of the two.

But the problem is, by erasing Amaya’s evilness, the creators of Wish essentially removed any purpose or personality she may have had and thus, she was left to become a literal ‘supporting’ character. First supporting both Magnifico and Asha, then leaving Magnifico to prop up solely Asha.

Deadass, you can literally remove Amaya from the story and nothing would change. Which is probably why she was exempt from much of the promotional stuff minus the dolls. Because she literally serves no purpose but to be… there.

So, in my version of Wish, Amaya would be a co-conspirator to her husband and yes, I’m adding Charo too. Her personality would be inspired by classic female villains such as the Evil Queen from Snow White, Lady Tremaine from Cinderella, and Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty.

Vain, glamorous, cunning, and unabashedly evil, Amaya would be the Morticia to Magnifico’s Gomez, the brains to his brawn. She’s the girlboss, he’s the wife instigator. Magnifico spoils Amaya rotten with countless gifts and praises, whilst Amaya is the more calm and collected evil compared to her husband’s ever-growing temper.

While she starts the story with no magic, Magnifico just can’t leave his wife hanging and shares the power of the evil spell-book with Amaya. And yes, even Charo gets in on the fun, turning from a small house cat, to a massive shape-shifting beast who breaths blue fire similarly to a dragon (shut up i think it’d be cool)

Magnifico and Amaya essentially keep the wishes of Rosas locked in the castle as a form of obedience. By giving the citizens false hope, it makes them more dependent on the royal couple, and the two have more power over everyone.

Anyways, let’s get to the main characters: Asha and Star.

I don’t have much of an issue with Asha’s character, more so her design. I already made a post showing my redesign of her, so that’s out of the way. Tbh tho, I also have an issue with the rest of the costume design of Wish, being a big costume nerd myself. The movie’s supposed to take inspiration from the Mediterranean, primarily places such as Spain and Morocco (and the Amazigh people for Asha), but the fashion feels like generic European medieval fashion.

I feel like the whole storyline of Asha’s interview with Magnifico was pretty pointless, so I would have it that she just starts off as the kings apprentice, whilst also working as Amaya’s scullery maid.

The couple took Asha in when the girl lost her father at the age of 12 (according to the film), and she’s been working for them for five years. Asha works not only to support herself, her family, and her community, but also as a way to distract from the grief of losing her father. Which is no issue, as Amaya always bombards the girl with chores, and Magnifico only teaches Asha the most basic of magic for fear of her growing more powerful than him.

I made Asha work as a scullery maid not only as a reference to princesses such as Snow White and Cinderella starting off their respective stories as maids, but also because scullery maids acted as assistants to the kitchen maids. Dahlia works in the kitchen, Asha and Dahlia are best friends, I figured it made sense.

But anyways, on the day of Sabino’s 100th birthday, Sakina tells Asha to take a break and return home, as she hardly visits anymore due to work. Asha says she’ll try asking the king and queen to get off early, but that she can’t make any promises.

Asha meets with Magnifico and asks for the day off, but the king refuses. However, wanting to keep her loyalty, Magnifico finally shows Asha the wish chamber, and even allows her to witness the wish ceremony that night. But once Asha starts questioning the king on his methods, any goodwill between them begins to fade.

Another thing I’m disappointed in, is that originally Star was going to be a shapeshifting humanoid inspired by the Genie and Peter Pan, and may have even had a romance with Asha. But, the idea was scrapped for the more cutesy, ‘marketable’, version of Star.

In my retelling, I’d choose to do this human shapeshifter version of Star, but I’d name him something else. The star Earendel was mentioned in the concept art book, which is the farthest known star from Earth and not only means ‘morning star’ in Old English, but is also named after the Tolkien character, Eärendil.

I would call this shapeshifter Star Earen, and because Disney loves their animal/cute sidekicks, Earen can have the ‘Kirby’ Star as a companion, just like how Asha has Valentino and Magnifico and Amaya have Charo.

((Side #2: Anybody else notice that Star lowkey looks and sounds like Kirby😶))

Earen and Star journey down to Rosas once they hear Asha’s pleas for guidance. Once Asha tells of Magnifico and Amaya’s lies, Earen reveals that he actually met Magnifico decades ago. The amount of years shocks Asha, as she realizes that the King and Queen might be far older than what they are.

((Side note #3: I didn’t realize this till someone mentioned it, but if Sabino is 100 and he gave Magnifico his wish at 18, then he’s been waiting 82 years for his wish to be granted. Which means it’s likely that Magnifico might be immortal. That, or Disney didn’t think this shit through (most likely)))

Anyways, Earen actually attempted to stop Magnifico and Amaya’s ploy to keep the wishes of Rosas locked away, but he was sealed within the heavens until he and Star heard Asha make her wish.

We can have it that the king and queen spun the story so that Earen was made out to be an evil that once threatened Rosas, but Magnifico banished him and saved everyone, essentially making himself out to be the good guy and manipulating the narrative.

Asha and Earen must now work together to expose the lies of the royal couple, and along the way, the two begin to fall in love. Earen disguises himself as a peasant boy so as to remain inconspicuous, while Asha tries to go about her job as if nothing happened, evading the King and Queen’s suspicions.

Star gives Asha a stick infused with stardust once finding out she is, quite literally, the sorcerers apprentice. It is also so that she may defend herself, as Earen has his powers and a sword (similarly to Peter Pan).

Unlike Magnifico, Earen and Star teach Asha the wonders of magic and the potential she wields, showing that there is no need for her to hold back when her gift can help so many, including those she loves.

The three manage to sneak into the kings study, but only have time to retrieve Sabino’s wish and return it to him. However, Magnifico and Amaya, now strengthened by the powers of dark magic, find Asha and Earen and threaten to destroy all the wishes should Earen not surrender to them.

And as a way to ensure that Asha doesn’t foil their plans, Magnifico destroys both Asha and Sakina’s wishes, despite Asha not being eighteen yet. However, the evil magic allows him to do so. This act weakens the two women, and infuriates Earen.

Earen then willingly complies despite Asha’s opposition, and Sabino takes Asha and Sabina to the seven (well six) teens for aid, who are in hiding after Simon ratted them out and who now serves as a puppet to the king and queen.

Despite loosing her wish, Asha finds the strength to carry on through the memory of her late father, enlisting the help of her friends and Star, who managed to evade the royal couple’s grasp. The team must work together to save Earen, whose power will be drained by Magnifico and Amaya. And if such a feat were to happen, then Earen would die and Rosas would be lost.

The five teens go into the woods to distract one of the royals, with the aid of the forest fauna and Star. Amaya chases the group alongside Charo while Magnifico tortures Earen and begins stealing his power. With the help of Dahlia, Asha sneaks into the castle to confront her former mentor and save Earen before it’s too late.

At first, it seems that the heroes have the upper hand with Magnifico neutralized, but then, Amaya swoops in riding Charo, who now takes the form of a giant dragon. Earen transforms into a dragon himself and battles Charo and Amaya, while Asha continues battling Magnifico. Star even comes to help after the original plan fails.

However, the unholy trio have the upper hand, and Amaya strikes down Earen, giving Magnifico enough time to not only drain Earen’s power, but to trap Star within his staff. With their combined powers, Magnifico and Amaya gather all of the peoples wishes, even stealing the wishes of those not yet of age, which includes the teens.

With all the wishes gathered, the couple and their pet destroy all the wishes, taking their energy for themselves.

Asha falls into despair as she watched her friends, love ones, and community succumb to the grief of loosing their wishes. The king and queen force Asha to apologize to the people, mocking her and making her feel even more guilty.

However, Earen comforts Asha despite his weak state, telling her it’s alright and that she shouldn’t be ashamed of wishing on Star, as he brought the two of them together. The two kiss, the strength of their newfound love and hope shining through the darkness and inspiring the people of Rosas to rise up.

As the sky and stars become alive, Magnifico’s staff is destroyed, releasing Star in the process. All the evil magic he, Amaya, and Charo used is sucked out of them and vanquished, and Earen is restored to full vitality.

Think of this as the transformation scene from Princess and the Frog. Asha and Earen get new outfits, with Asha even gaining a crown and a new wand from Star.

((Side Note #4: The “transformation” in the finale of the film is so stupid. Asha could’ve literally gotten a new dress once she becomes a fairy godmother, but instead, Star just made her sparkly. How magical🙄))

Rosas rejoices, as they realize they don’t need the king to make their wishes come true, and they can pursue them themselves. With Magnífico and Amaya banished from Rosas, Asha and Earen become the new rulers, being names Prince and Princess respectively.

And that’s basically how I would’ve done Wish. It’s not perfect, but it’s just an idea. I’m just disappointed that Disney do something better for their 100th anniversary.

#disney #my writing #disney wish #wish 2023 #king magnifico #queen amaya #magnifico x amaya #princess asha #asha wish #star wish

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monzabee · 6 months

Text

third time's the charm (social media au) - mv1

masterlist

Summary: The one where you are there to celebrate Max winning his third title, and the whole world is there to witness it.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader (model used: mun ka young)

Warnings: none other than some cursing, internet being the internet

Request: "First of, in love with your social media au works. Could you do one with Max where reader is a K-pop idol (solo) and one of the biggest artist both in Korea and internationally, ever since she debuted (early-middle 2010s) she's been associated/sponsored by Red Bull. So she and Max have secretly been together for a year or two until someone caught Max in Korea and everything starts unfolding. (Ps. fully understand if you aren't able too❤️)"

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

ynofficial

Liked by yg_ent_official, iconnews, jennyrubyjane and 982,927 others

ynofficial: excited for this weekend's schenanigans, can you guess where i'm heading?

jennyrubyjane: not la??😿

ynofficial: 아니, 곧 만나러 갈게 약속할게😭

user: is it paris? new york? london? THE OPPORTUNITIES ARE ENDLESS

redbullracing: can't wait to have you with us again!

ynofficial: 감사합니다 🥹🫶

user: SHE'S GOING TO A F1 RACE, AGAIN??

user: she's just like me i swear

comments on this post have been limited

ynylnfans

Liked by kpopworld, ynnews, and 325,746 others

ynylnfans: Y/N at the airport this morning, going to the qatar gp!

user: the queen of airport looks😭

user: love the way she makes that ludicrously capacious bag work🫡

user: oh to be y/n and travel the world while looking this good

view all 6,625 comments

user: see everyone is sad because we have to share her with the f1 girlies but i'm just glad we're getting looks

user: her fashion game on race weekends have been on point

ynofficial posted a story!

ynofficial tagged location: losail international circuit

Liked by maxverstappen1, ynylnfans, f1wagss and 827,637 others

ynofficial: how does the saying go again? third time's the charm✌️☝️

user: no way, no actual way

user: have you not seen her story...

user: i knew she was a red bull girl, but i didn't know she was THE red bull girl😭

user: okay but when is the new album dropping?? the kids need music

the comments on this post has been limited

maxverstappen1

Liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, ynofficial and 836,547 others

maxverstappen1: the past couple of days with ms yln

user: i'm so confused right now🤨

user: where is the race content and who is this man??

user: i can't believe this post just called me single in all the languages ever

ynofficial: always a pleasure🫶

maxverstappen1: ❤️

view all 21,536 comments

danielricciardo: is this why you said no to hanging out?

maxverstappen1: what do you think?

ynofficial

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, yg_ent_official and 998,625 others

ynofficial: date night with one mr verstappen

user: I NEED HER WARDROBE, RIGHT NOW😭

user: girl, i get that you're happy and in love, but please drop a song or something😭

ynofficial: after date night?👀

user: i never thought i'd be jealous of max verstappen but here we are

view all 32,746 comments

maxverstappen1: ❤️

ynofficial: 🥹

ynofficial

Liked by yg_ent_official, iconnews, jennyrubyjane and 982,927 others

ynofficial: third time's the charm. out this friday. enjoy🤭

user: OH I KNEW IT

user: i can't believe we're getting a song about sid from ice age

user: sid and the dragon babies

redbullracing: are we invited to the listening party?

ynofficial: of course!🥹

user: finally, it's been so long😭

maxverstappen1: oh i definitely will

ynofficial: i know you will🙃

view all 542,243 comments

user: damn, this right after the hard launch of the century??

#monzabee #formula 1 x reader #social media au #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #formula one x reader #max verstappen media au

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lipglossanon · 1 year

Text

What You Do To Me (No One Knows)

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷˚ ༘✶

Stepdad!Leon S Kennedy x fem!reader-part 2

(Part 1)

(Part 3)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, mean Leon, bully Leon, fem!reader, stepcest, unprotected sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, breeding kink, oral (f receiving), slight dubcon, pussy slapping, choking, spit kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation

Not proofread so ignore any mistakes! It’s straight up nasty from the get go, so be forewarned 😈 hope you guys like it 🫣

Title from the song No One Knows by Queens of the Stone Age

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷˚ ༘✶

Leon has fucked you dumb at this point. You don’t know how many times he made you cum on his cock, but he has yet to let up.

“Such a pretty pussy and s’all mine right baby?”

You nod tiredly, “Y-yeah daddy.”

“Such a good girl,” he groans, grinding his cock deeper into your cunt and settling.

He pins you to his bed—your mother’s bed—, chest pressed along your back as he slowly continues to fuck into you. He presses a hot kiss against your neck, nipping at the skin before dragging his mouth up to your ear.

“If you’re tired baby, you can go to sleep,” he nips the tip of your ear, “s’okay to just keep using you, right?”

You moan weakly, hips arching into him while your hands twist in the sheets.

He laughs at you, “You like that, sweetheart? Yeah you do. Just let me use you whenever I want, huh.”

“We can’t,” you hiccup even as your pussy clamps down harder on Leon’s dick.

His hands come up to slot his fingers in between yours, pressing your palms flat onto the bed as he ruts into your wet cunt harder.

“Sure we can,” he coos, dropping a kiss onto your hot cheek, “your mom is gone all the time and daddy gets so lonely, sweetheart. Lucky for me, I got a wet little hole ready and waiting just down the hall.”

Your eyes roll back as an orgasm hits you out of nowhere, walls convulsing and clenching down on Leon’s cock.

“Damn baby, that’s it, cum on my cock,” he groans, slowly circling his hips to grind deeper into your wet heat.

You can faintly hear an alarm going off but you’re so dizzy on the comedown you’re not sure.

Humming, Leon sucks a bruise into your neck.

“Guess it’s morning already,” he sucks another bruise next to the one he just left.

He pulls out of you with a soft groan; the empty feeling makes you whine before you can catch yourself.

“Baby, I’m coming right back,” he soothes, walking to the other side of the room.

Picking up his phone, he turns off the alarm. The realization that you’ve been fucking Leon all night leaves you dizzy while you shakily raise up on your hands and knees. When you turn over to your front, his cum oozes out of your sore pussy and drips all over the sheets.

You hiss in discomfort and slowly scoot to the edge of the bed. Unbeknownst to you, Leon watches your every move with sharp eyes.

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?”

You pull your attention away from your throbbing lower half to look over at him.

“I need to clean up,” you fidget under his dark stare.

He walks back over and kneels in front of you.

He rubs your calves with gentle hands, “I understand. Such a messy girl, but you’re my messy girl, right?”

You duck your head but give a shaky nod.

“Then daddy needs to clean you up,” his voice deepens to a low rumble as he grabs your legs and pulls them over his shoulders.

You gasp out as you find yourself flat on your back with Leon between your thighs, hungrily eating your pussy.

“Nooo,” you whine, reaching down to push him away.

Ignoring you completely, he grabs your wrists to pin them to the bed. You try to buck your hips but it only lets him dip his tongue deeper into your leaky cunt.

“Stop,” your voice warbles, “it’s too sore.”

Leon pulls his face away just enough to speak, “I’m just cleaning you up, sweetheart. Stop being a little brat before I get upset.”

A broken gasp escapes your lips at the intense look on his face.

“Now say sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Please eat my pussy.”

“P-please eat m-my pussy,” your eyes water at the dull throb of arousal pulsing in your clit.

His lips curl in a smile but it does nothing to instill comfort.

“Good girl, now you gonna behave for me?”

“Uh-huh,” your breath shudders out as you agree.

“Good,” Leon croons, eyes drifting from your face down the line of your body.

He spits on your pussy and follows the line of drool down the puffy, abused lips of your cunt. Groaning, he buries his face back between your legs and eagerly fucks his tongue in your hole. He eats the mess he left inside, cum and slick dripping down his chin.

“Such a sweet little cunt,” he praises.

You mewl, feeling a gush of wetness at his words.

“C’mon, give me more, sweetheart,” he slips a couple of fingers into you, coaxing your hole to spread open for his mouth.

Leon laps and sucks at your clit, moaning against the sensitive bundle like he can’t get enough of you or your taste. Your mind goes hazy from the overstimulation and pleasure and by the time your orgasm washes over you, you’re a boneless mess.

You must drift off from sheer tiredness because when you come to, you’re lying on your side in the center of the bed—body feeling sore and used. Leon’s palm is covering your mouth, the other hand holding onto your rib cage, as his hips piston in your wet pussy.

You realize he’s mumbling and panting into the skin of your shoulder.

“Been wanting this for so long. Don’t even know how many times I thought of you when fucking her.”

He nips the skin then runs his tongue over the mark. You’re so sore and tired and yet you like how Leon’s cock constantly bullies into your cunt. He’s ruining your pussy… but you still want him to fuck you more—deeper, harder.

“Pictured you under me, begging me to fuck you, crying cause you can’t take it,” he groans, “love when you cry, gets me so hard, baby.”

Your walls flutter around his cock as you moan a high whispery sound behind his palm. His quick thrusts turn into slow, deep rolls so his fat cock keeps your hole stretched out.

“Finally awake, sweetheart?” he laughs meanly in your ear.

His hand drags from your side up to tease and flick your nipples, “Been so good for me, baby. Keeping me all snug and warm as I fill this needy pussy over and over again.”

You clench down as he pinches and tugs on your nipples. He strokes his fingers over the hard buds as he sloppily kisses your neck and shoulder. He moves his palm away from your mouth to cup your neck.

“S’too much,” your hands scratch at his forearms, “please.”

A slap rings out before you can register it, the sting of Leon’s hand imprinted on your pussy. Your legs kick out as he smacks your cunt again. He brings his hand back up to tug harshly at your nipples.

“Behave,” the hand on your neck tightens, “and let me finish, sweetheart.“

The hand teasing your breasts slips down your body to softly rub your overly sensitive clit. Even as tired as you are, you thrash a little in Leon’s grip from the too much feeling his fingers are causing.

He doesn’t stop or change, just keeps rubbing and stroking your clit as his cock fucks deep into your body.

“C’mon, you can cum for me one last time,” he’s the devil in your ear, coaxing more from your spent body than you can give.

Tears drip from your eyes as you sob.

“I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum again, L-Leon.”

Your orgasm is syrupy and slow, but it hits you so hard you can feel the muscles in your thighs seize. Your eyes roll back as you feel slick spill from your pussy, drenching everything below your waist.

“Fuck me,” Leon gasps like he’s out of breath, “perfect, so fucking perfect baby. Squirting all over my cock.”

His voice trails off into a low groan as he cums inside you, burying himself as deep as he can get. His hand moves from your clit to hold your side as he rocks his hips into you softly. The warm sensation of his cum spurting inside your cunt makes you weakly squeeze down on his dick. You feel hot all over.

“Such a good girl,” he laughs, “you got me hooked, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you stupid again.”

You’re bone tired, body feeling like jello, so you only whine in reply. As he pulls out, you both moan at the feeling. He tugs your shoulder to roll you over on your back.

He smiles down at you, eyes hungry and mean.

“The way we’re going, might accidentally knock you up, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen with shock even as your pussy thrums with sick want, “N-no. I can’t— it’s wrong.”

He mockingly pouts at you as he brushes a stray tear away, “I said might baby. ‘M not trying to breed your little pussy. It just might happen is all.”

He slips a couple of fingers into your used cunt and fucks the cum slipping out back into your sore hole.

“Gonna make that birth control of yours work extra hard.”

You’re left speechless as he pulls away and stands up.

“Go get cleaned up, sweetheart. I’m gonna order some food,” he grins at you, eyes crinkling and fond. “Then we can finish that movie we started.”

You raise up and nod, still feeling unmoored.

“Don’t look like that, honey,” he murmurs, tilting your chin up.

He kisses you, soft and slow, slipping his tongue into your mouth to tease alongside your own. He pulls back and drops a kiss on your cheek.

“I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?”

You nod again, feeling shy.

He tsks, “Words, baby.”

“Okay, daddy.”

His eyes sweep down your body, taking in all the teeth marks and bruises. He kisses you again, harder and insistent. He cups your breasts and squeezes.

“Lay back, sweetheart,” he whispers against your lips, “gonna eat you out one more time.”

You moan, “I’m so sore though.”

“I know, I know, baby,” he shushes you with more kisses, “just let me eat you out and I’ll let you go get cleaned up.”

You sigh into his mouth, “O-okay. Last time?”

He hums, “Yeah, just want you to cream all over my tongue one more time, sweetheart.”

You reach up to run your hands through his hair, “‘kay, thank you.”

His eyes soften for a moment, “Of course.”

He kneels on the floor and brings your legs over his shoulders. Leon drags the broad flat of his tongue across your hot, soaked pussy.

You sigh out in pleasure as he places sloppy kisses to your clit over and over making your legs twitch. Your hands come down to tangle in his messy hair.

He grunts and moans, pushing his mouth further into your pussy. His nose rubs against your clit, tongue flicking and stroking in and out of your hole. You grip his hair and ride his face, shaking and moaning. You can hear him jerk off while he tongue fucks your pussy and it makes you even wetter.

Twisting your head to the side, you can see him fisting his thick, swollen cock. His knuckles are shiny with precum as he fucks his hand in a tight grip. Your clit throbs with want. You tug his hair harder, trying to get his attention.

“D-daddy,” you mewl, “in me, in me please.”

His eyes are barely blue when he pulls back from eating you out.

“What is it, baby?” He rasps, voice husky.

“In me, please. Want to feel you,” you arch your hips.

He doesn’t stop pumping his hand, but he slows to soft teasing strokes on his dick.

“Hmm but I thought you were sore, baby?”

You nod but grasp at his shoulders, trying to pull him up.

“I am, but it looks like it hurts”, you bite your lip.

He huffs a laugh, “It does, but I don’t wanna hurt my sweet girl.”

“Go slow,” you bargain, clit pulsing as you watch him stroke his cock.

“Yeah? Okay then,” his voice is low and wanting, “s’what my girl asked for after all.”

Leon raises up and presses your knees to your chest; his cock nearly bottoming out as he sinks into your warm, welcoming hole inch by inch.

Your hands scratch and claw at his broad shoulders, head tossed back with how intense it feels to be fucked again so soon. Leon pulls out and slowly sinks back in, never changing tempo as he buries himself in your pussy over and over.

It feels so good, but it’s not enough.

“Please,” you whimper, legs twitching against Leon’s hands.

“Please what? Is it too much?”

You shake your head back and forth, “Daddy, please.”

He bottoms out, cock so deep you’re gasping for air.

“Like that?” He smirks down at you.

“Yess,” you whine, “more, please”

He slowly pulls out and presses in deep; he does it again and again, getting quicker with his thrusts until he’s railing you into the bed.

You’re openly crying now. He’s rubbing and pinching your clit as he fucks his cock deep into your pussy. He has you squealing every time the head presses against your cervix.

“Right there?”

You only choke on a whine, eyes rolling back in your head.

He groans, “‘m really gonna breed you deep this time, sweetheart.”

You moan, mind completely whited out by pleasure.

“Breed me, daddy, please,” you’re babbling, not thinking at all of what you’re saying. “Want you to cum in me.”

One of his hands moves from your leg, to wrap around your throat.

“Say it again,” he squeezes your neck.

“Breed me,” you’re drooling, spit leaking down your chin, “want daddy to breed my pussy.”

“Yeah? Want me to knock you up? Cum all in this sweet little pussy?”

Your cunt spasms as your back arches.

“Want it, want you to cum in me, please!”

His hand tightens on your neck.

“Open up, sweetheart.”

Your bleary eyes look into his face as you drop your mouth open. He spits directly onto your tongue. Moaning, you swallow and quickly open your mouth again.

Leon’s hand clenches around your throat and he drools into your open mouth. Moaning, you swallow his spit down your throat.

“Knew if I fucked you good enough, you’d want it,” Leon groaned, “now you’re just a cock hungry little slut, huh.”

You barely hear him over the roar of blood in your ears as you shake apart from the longest orgasm of your life. He squeezes down on your throat as your nails dig into his shoulders to the point of breaking skin. It’s a kaleidoscope of feelings as your walls clench rhythmically around Leon, urging him to spill inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants under his breath, “gonna drain me dry, sweetheart.”

You gasp what little air you can and Leon releases your neck as he fills your pussy again. His thrusts stutter into your pliant body as rope after rope of hot cum fills your squelching cunt. Your walls clench repeatedly around the thick cock splitting you open. His dick throbs and kicks inside you as your hole keeps milking him for every last drop of cum. He lets out a low moan as he continues to finish inside you.

Your throat feels raw as you try to catch your breath. Leon drops his forehead onto your clavicle, panting into your skin. A sharp sting followed by wet suction makes you tense as he leaves another bite mark. He lifts his head up to look at you.

“So good baby,” Leon kisses you, nipping your bottom lip, “I’d say you earned a break.”

You feel floaty, thoughts drift in and out with no purchase in your mind. You smile at him and bring him down for another kiss.

“Thank you, daddy.”

#stepdad!leon kennedy #stepdad!leon s kennedy #stepdad!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #stepdad leon s kennedy #stepcest #stepdad leon mood board #stepdad!leon x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #warnings are at the top so please heed them 👍#lipglossanon #fem!reader

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marlinspirkhall · 8 months

Text

Tag game: URL song

“Spell your url with song titles and then tag as many people as there are letters.”

Prev thread got too long so I'm starting a new one. Thanks for the tag @frogayyyy !

Mountains O' Things (Tracy Chapman)

Angeles (Elliott Smith)

Regulars (Allie X)

Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream (Ed McCurdy)

Independence Day (Elliott Smith)

Neon Sisters (Thomas Dolby)

Sea, Swallow Me (Cocteau Twins)

Pissing In A River (Patti Smith)

Insomniatic (Aly and Aj)

Rosie (Joan Armtrading)

Killer Queen (Queen)

Happy (Mitski)

Anyone But Me (Joy Crookes)

Leave A Tender Moment Alone (Billy Joel)

Lyin' Eyes (Eagles)

No pressure tags: @blue-jello-queen @herenya-writes @convenient-plot-device @jimkirkachu @hurt-spock @renthebarbarian @ellisper @systemadministratorclu @redshiftsinger @joybates @beauty-grace-outer-space @detectivehole @gayspock @ifdragonscouldtalk @transxfiles @soft-and-certain and also, open tag to anyone who wants to do it!

#music tag #tag game #song recs #long post

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lilsedge · 2 months

Note

may I have a fic where tjds girl either gets

tag championship or solo one thank you ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

Their Champion

TJDG short story

Warnings: doesn’t follow the storyline

It was a big day for Y/N and her tag team partner, Shayna. It’s Survivor Series and they are going against Piper Nivon and Chelsey Green for the tag team titles.

Judgement Day wasn’t too happy that she wanted to team with Shayna. Well, sorry, it was mostly Rhea who didn’t want that. She didn’t want that because Shayna wanted her title before.

“Ready partner?” Shayna questions, laying her hands on Y/N’s shoulders.

“Oh my god yes, we are going to beat them,” Y/N says.

“That’s a great mindset to be in,” Shayna comments.

“We are going to be amazing,” Y/N smiles.

Shayna smiles back at Y/N. She frowns a bit when four other people come up behind the girl who was now in front of her.

“Love,” Rhea says.

Y/N turned around to see four people. Four people that were going to wish her luck for her match.

“Good luck on the match,” they all say together.

“Awe thanks guys,” she replies. The theme song hit. So she points to the entrance and waved bye to them. She grabs Shayna’s hand and drags her away.

“You don’t like the sight of the hand holding either,” Rhea says to Damian.

“Nope,” he replies.

“Okay,” she nods.

Shayna and Y/N make their way out together. Shayna was like the black cat of their tag team and Y/N was most definitely a golden retriever. While Shayna would rather not want to tap people's hands, Y/N would tap the hands of everyone by the ramp.

Y/N poses on the apron of the ring, holding onto the rope squatting down. Shayna stands behind Y/N, holding her hands up in a spade shape.

Shayna then sits on the middle rope, helping Y/N in the ring. They both make their way to a corner on the ring. Shayna sits on top of the turnbuckle, while Y/N stood in front of her, jumping up and down, trying to get her blood pumping.

Piper and Chelsea’s theme song comes on. Y/N turns around to face Shayna. They don’t say anything, but they do what they do before a match. Shayna leans her forehead down to Y/N’s and places her hands on her shoulder.

“We got this. We will rip them limp by limp,” Shayna says.

Their foreheads stay together for another few seconds. When the theme song stops, Shayna pulls away and jumps off of the turnbuckle.

“Introducing first, the challengers. Team of Shayna Baszler and Y/N Copeland. The Queens,” Samantha says.

Y/N and Shayna step forward and face the others. The ref pushed the two girls away, as they wanted to start the match right away.

“Introducing next, they are the women’s tag team champions, Piper Nivon and Chelsea Green,” Samantha says.

Samantha makes her way out of the stage as the ref receives the titles. He holds them up and hands them to a crew member off to the side. Y/N goes to start the match, but Shayna puts her hand on the girl’s shoulder, silently telling her that she’d start the match. Piper was starting for her and Chelsea.

Shayna didn’t want Y/N to get hurt in the match right away. If she did, she wouldn’t forgive herself and also the judgement day would come for her. If someone was going to get hurt, it was going to be her.

The match starts off strong. Piper was currently dominating Shayna, which is a good sign. She’ll get Shayna mad and that’s when Shayna will tear you limb for limb.

“Come on Shayna,” Y/N yells, as Piper starts moving to go tag Chelsea.

Shayna makes her way, stumbling a bit to Y/N’s outstretched hand. Shayna makes the tag as Chelsea try’s getting to Shayna. Y/N quickly makes her way in the ring and clothesline the girl. She then runs at Piper and kicks her off the apron.

Chelsea is now sitting on her knees when, all of a sudden, Y/N's knee meets her face. She’s laying flat on the matt. Shayna puts her hand out for Y/N to tag, which Y/N does.

Y/N doesn’t stay on the apron though. She makes her way to the other side. Seeing Piper with an outstretched hand and Chelsea’s hand close to a tag, she grabs the ankle of Piper and manages to pull her off the apron.

Shayna then puts Chelsea in a Kirifuda clutch, while Y/N makes sure Piper doesn’t get up. She hears the bell ring three times. Y/N gets up and sees Shayna coming to her. The queen of spades grabs her hands and pulls her into the ring, helping her stand up. The ref grabs both of their hands and raises them.

“That was the fastest match I’ve ever had,” Y/N says, as they get the titles.

Shayna grabs the back of Y/N’s neck, pulling them together. Y/N wraps her arms around Shayna.

“We are champions,” Y/N exclaims.

Shayna laughs at the girl as they make their way backstage. Y/N tapped a few people’s hands, but didn’t do much of that. She was too busy admiring her new title. Shayna made sure that the girl didn’t run into anything.

“Hey girls. It ain’t official till you know the picture,” Triple H laughs.

Y/N and Shayna hold up their titles while their boss puts his arm around their shoulders. They get the picture taken and Triple H congratulates them for a last time before telling them to make their way further backstage.

Multiple people give them hugs and congratulate them two. Y/N was hoping for a congratulation from these certain people, but they never did show.

“I’m going to my dressing room. See you tomorrow?” She says to her tag team partner.

“Yeah of course. See you Y/N,” Shayna says.

Y/N makes her way back to her change room. When she opens the door, she’s met with darkness. She looks around, confused. The light was on when she left and when she first put her stuff in, so why would it be off? A hand covers her mouth. She lets out a whimper. The light turns on.

“There’s our little champion,” Damian says. Finn’s hand makes its way away from her mouth.

“Look at this!” she exclaims, holding up her title.

They all smile at her as she jumps up and down. She just can’t believe she won a title. Her first ever title.

“How does it look around your waist?” Rhea asks.

“I don’t know,” the girl replies.

“Give here let’s see,” Dominik says, holding his hand out for her to hand him the title. She gives it to him. He pushes her gently to stand in front of the mirror and puts the title on her. She stands there in awe.

The four members of the Judgement Day stand back and watch the girl look at herself. She made them proud. She was their little champion.

#wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #dominik mysterio x reader #the judgement day #damian priest x reader #finn balor x reader #rhea ripley x reader #wwe #the judgement day’s girl

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daddy-dins-girl · 3 months

Text

Talk Me Down

A fic requested by @anotherpedrolover

I was gonna wait until Frankie Friday (tomorrow) to post this, but this sweet human being has already waited like 2 months for me to finish this, lol, so here you go! I was asked to write a fic about insecure!Frankie who has some self-esteem/body image issues but after being with Reader (who is very appreciative of his body) he gets into it and develops a bit of a praise kink for it but but he hits a rough patch and gets into a dark place, feeling very undeserving of the love and attention Reader gives him. The person who made the request asked me to focus on his feelings and emotions when he is feeling bad and insecure (and specifically asked for some tears to be shed, lol) so I did my best to beat the crap out of Frankie (emotionally).

I hope this is somewhat what they had in mind and that they like it :) I've never really written anything like this (PWP queen over here) so I hope I got it right and didn't make Frankie too OOC. Hope you all enjoy it!

Page dividers provided by the gracious and talented @saradika-graphics

Ao3 link

My Masterlist Word Count: 9.8k Fandom: Triple Frontier (Frankie Morales x f!Reader) Notes: Pre/No TF Mission. Fic title is from the song of the same name by Troye Sivan. Warnings: 🔞 18+MDNI. Angst. Drama. Body Insecurity/Self-esteem issues. Praise Kink. Smut (pretty tame and not a lot, considering its me lol, but its there). Sad!Frankie. Mid-Life-Crisis!Frankie. Emotional hurt/comfort. Eventual happy ending. Established Relationship. No use of y/n. No physical description of Reader.

“Babe, have you seen my -“ you cut yourself off mid sentence as you turn the corner and your eyes land on your boyfriend, leisurely sprawled on the couch with his legs up on the ottoman, ankles crossed over each other and television remote firmly in hand while a baseball game plays in the background.

“Are you serious?”

“What?” Frankie asks, incredulous.

“We have to be at Will and Benny’s in like…” you pause to look at your watch. “Fifteen minutes! And what is that… are you eating the potato salad I made?”

“Was I not supposed to?” Frankie responds, forkful halfway to his mouth again already.

“Oh my god” You shake your head. You literally can’t with him today. You made that for the barbecue pool party today and now it was nearly half gone.

“Nevermind, let’s just go” you huff. You’re not in a great mood and maybe you’re being a little bitchier than usual thanks to this god awful heatwave but Frankie wasn’t helping matters any.

“I’ll be in the car” you grumble towards his general direction as you head out the front door. At least there’s A/C in the Jeep.

Surprisingly he doesn’t keep you waiting long. He’s shoving his slides on his feet as he hops down the front steps only a minute or so later and then jumps into the driver’s seat next to you, buckling his seatbelt and the two of you head out of the driveway.

“See, plenty of time” He grins at you when you pull up to the outside of your friends house a short while later with actually a few minutes to spare before your requested arrival time. You had attempted to stay mad at him, neither of you speaking more than one or two words the entire drive but now with that stupidly adorable smirk on his face you have no choice but to want to kiss it off of him. Despite your best efforts, a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“There it is” his grin widens as he brings a hand up to pinch at your cheek and you playfully swat him away, trying and failing to hold back a little laugh.

“Baby I don’t know what you think we’re gonna miss anyway. It’s my birthday party. They literally can’t start without me”

“Francisco Morales, you’re going to be late to your own funeral, you know that don’t you?” You shake your head at him but the smile hasn’t left your lips.

“Oh baby we’re gonna be real late if you keep that ‘Francisco’ talk up” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at you and reaching over the center console to grab a handful of your upper thigh. “Maybe we skip the party all together, you give me my birthday present early, hmm?”

“Get out of the car you perv!” You laugh, giving him a playful shove. “Are you sure you’re turning 40 and not 14?”

“All right, all right I’ll behave” He sighs, hands up in the air to signal his defeat.

You’re glad he seems like he’s in a better mood so far today. He’s been a little off the last couple of days and you can’t say why. You’ve asked a few times if something was bothering him but he kept shrugging you off, insisting everything was fine. You chalked it up to maybe just work stress and are hoping now that the weekend is here that he’ll be able to just relax and have a great time with his friends.

Despite you being early, the party is actually in full swing on your arrival. You and Frankie let yourselves in through the back gate where the backyard is filled with several of Frankie’s (and now yours, you supposed) friends milling about. The ones you recognize immediately are his old military unit; Santiago, Benny, Will and Tom, as well as Will’s girlfriend and Tom’s wife. There are a few other people around you’ve definitely met before but can’t place all of them. Either way, you’re glad to see so many people have shown up for Frankie on his big day.

The space is decorated too with balloons everywhere, a giant banner that reads “Happy Birthday Fish!” and a big poster board is taped up against the side of the house as soon as you walk in that has pictures of Frankie and his family and friends all over it with the title “40 Years In The Making” written at the top in huge block lettering. You and Frankie both take a moment to look over the board before anyone deeper inside the yard notices you yet. There are a bunch of photos from his younger military days and even a few from when he was just a boy that have you gushing over him, telling Frankie how adorable he was and pinching his cheek for good measure. You spot a couple of pictures of Frankie having fallen asleep at a party (something he’s been known to do) with his signature ball cap pulled down over his face and beer bottle loosely gripped in his hand and those give you both a good laugh. There’s two photos of you and him together, you notice, and your personal favourite picture of Frankie - him flying his helicopter wearing a pair of Aviators, looking so sexy it makes you melt each time you see it.

You safely assume the wife and girlfriends of Frankie’s closest pals were mostly to thank for the decorating. If it were up to the boys there would be a folded table in the middle of the backyard with a pack of cards and a cooler full of beer and that would be it.

“There he is!” Benny shouts across the yard the moment he spots you both just inside the gate. He dashes across the patio and throws his arms around Frankie, nearly knocking him over in the process before landing a few hard slaps to his back. “Happy birthday ya old fuck” he teases, grabbing on to Frankie’s shoulder and jostling him slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be your turn soon enough” Frankie reminds him but Benny just shrugs.

“Always be younger than you though” he winks and that earns him a little shove from Frankie.

The rest of the greetings go more or less the same way, playful teasing or ribbing on Frankie for turning the big “4-0”. It gets old quickly but if it bothers Frankie he doesn’t let it show, just takes it in stride as he makes his way through the small crowd and says his hello’s.

By the time you get home much later that night you’re exhausted. It’s late and the day had been long (and hot in that blistering sun). Add to that you’re sober whereas everyone around you had been thoroughly wasted which made the night seem to drag on even longer. You wanted Frankie to have a great time, it was his birthday after all, so you offered to drive you both tonight and somehow that had turned into you offering to be an Uber driver for half the party so instead of it taking ten minutes to get home it had taken an hour.

“I’m beat” you announce through a long drawn out yawn, stretching tired limbs over your head. “You wanna come to bed with me, birthday boy?” You ask playfully, walking up to Frankie and looping your fingers through the belt loops of his tan cargo shorts to tug him a little closer, hoping he catches on that you’re not that tired.

“Think I’m gonna shower, I hate smelling like chlorine” he complains, gently taking your hands and removing them from his waist. “You go on, I won’t be long” he promises before leaning forward and planting a kiss to your forehead.

“Baby,” you whine, a masterful pout displayed on your lips. “C’mon upstairs with me, while it’s still your birthday” you try seductively, hand reaching out to brush over the outside of his pants at his crotch.

“I said I want to shower” Frankie replies back, a little too curtly for your liking and his tone leaving no room for argument as he pushes your hand away a second time. You frown and the huff of disappointment you breathe out doesn’t go unnoticed by your partner.

“Baby come on, I’m sorry. I just don’t wanna go to bed smelling like chemicals. Go on up to bed, I’ll be right behind you” he says with finality and gives your hand a little squeeze before dropping it and heading off to the bathroom.

You sigh but let him go. Truthfully you’d been trying to drag him out of the party for hours, desperate to get him alone and all to yourself. You don’t know what’s come over you today but you felt downright needy for him, your hormones just off the charts and now he’s making you wait even longer when all you want to do is rip his clothes off and show him exactly how glad you are that he was born forty years ago today and by some cosmic twist of fate found his way into your life.

Once in the bedroom and settled into bed you hear the spray of water come to life in the bathroom down the hall and your mind can’t help but drift and think about Frankie, naked and in the shower. How the water is cascading down his broad shoulders to his soft tummy and strong, thick legs and a heat floods your body, going straight to the lower part of your abdomen. You loved his body and you weren’t shy about telling him either. You remember back to when you’d first started dating, the early stages of your intimate relationship. He was so shy around you at first, always insisting the lights be off or even leaving his t-shirt on when you’d have sex. It was all a mystery to you, how someone as gorgeous as Frankie could have self-esteem issues but you loved to remind him how crazy he drove you and how perfect he was in your eyes.

At first he got so embarrassed at your borderline worship of his body, refused to even believe you in the beginning but he warmed up eventually to the point where he loved it. Craved it, even, your praise of him. Though he’d never admitted to it out loud and always remained a little bashful about it, you could tell. Frankie was already a very generous, selfless and enthusiastic lover, but when you really got vocal with him (or better yet let your tongue and hands do the talking) of how much you enjoyed every part of his physical anatomy, Frankie could get downright animalistic with you and it brought the already amazing sex to a whole new level for you both. You had definitely uncovered a little praise-kink in your boyfriend that you don’t think he even knew existed in himself and honestly no sexual relationship you’ve had in the past could ever hold a candle to the one you and Frankie have created together.

You plan on using every weapon in your arsenal on him tonight to truly wish him a happy birthday he won’t soon forget. You’ll caress, kiss and lick your way from his prominent neck vein, his broad chest with just the lightest smattering of golden brown hair, take more than enough time for your tongue to appreciate each of his small dusty pink nipples before you continue down his sternum to where he gets a little softer. You’ll playfully nip and suck at the small expanse of flesh at his belly that protrudes just barely over his waistline, making sure to let him know with words how gorgeous he is, how hot he makes you, how he’s all yours. You just hope you get to have your fill before he takes his own. It had taken you a while to get Frankie to allow you to appreciate him the way you wanted to. He was always insistent on your pleasure and he still is to this day, but you’ve managed to strike a fairly delicate balance now for the most part, though you’ll admit there are days where Frankie comes home and he just needs you. You’ve come to recognize it on him and you’re glad to give him the reins when that happens, knowing that he’ll allow you to do the same when you need it. When you said Frankie was a generous lover you weren’t exaggerating. That man would spend hours with his face buried between your legs if you’d let him, and sometimes you’d let him do just that. But tonight was for him and tonight you need him. Need to show him how in love with him you are in a way that words just can’t do.

You have to press your thighs together just at the thought of him in the shower now, hoping he won’t be long so you can hopefully pull him out of this weird mood he’d been in most of the day. It started not long after you got to Will and Benny’s. Just silly, little things that just seemed to set him off to the point where he’d either pick a fight with you (or whoever else he happened to be talking to) or just get overly quiet and wander off by himself. You think back trying to think what could’ve started it all. He’d gone into the party in a good enough mood but soon after he started acting weird. The two of you barely fought, like ever, and here you were today in front of all your friends getting into a yelling match with each other about goddamn sunscreen of all things. And it wasn’t just you, he seemed overly quiet today around everyone, even his best friends who were more like brothers to him than anything and none of it made sense to you, you just hope now that he was home maybe he’d get out of his funk.

Your mind doesn’t have any longer to dwell however because Frankie emerges from the bathroom and into the bedroom, already changed into a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Your tongue absent-mindedly peeks out to swipe across your bottom lip at the way the wet curls stick to his forehead or how tiny droplets of water soak through the thin cotton of his dark gray t-shirt because he didn’t quite dry himself all the way off before tugging it over his head.

Not that it matters, you don’t plan on him wearing it long anyway.

“Finally” you smile at him from your spot on the bed and shuffle back slightly to pat down on the space next to you on the mattress. You pull back the bed covers to reveal that you’re wearing next to nothing, A black lacy bra and matching panties that really left nothing to the imagination. It was Frankie’s favourite on you.

“You didn’t have to wait up” Frankie says casually, looking down as he unfastens his watch from his wrist to toss it on the nightstand. If he notices your state of nearly undress during his brief glance in your direction he doesn’t say anything or even react. “Thought you were tired” he adds, feigning concern for your sleep habits.

“Read between the lines Morales, was just trying to get you into bed” you tease, sticking the tip of your tongue out at him playfully. He says nothing in response, just flips off the light and crawls in next to you but to your surprise just throws the comforter over you both and turns on his side and faces away from you as he scrunches up his pillow under his head until he’s comfortable and settles.

You frown, not that he can see you, but shuffle over to him anyway so you’re pressed up against his back and your arm slings around his waist. You stay still for a minute, waiting to see if he’ll take your less than subtle hint that you’re “not tired” but he just lays there, unmoving, and so you decide it’s time to take matters into your own hands. Literally.

Your hand slips under the hem of his shirt to rest on his soft belly and begins to gently explore. Fingertips dancing along the smooth skin and sparse little body hairs and moving over to his hip where you grab onto the small bit of extra skin there and massage his side but before you can go any further he’s grabbing your hand and pushing it out from under his shirt. He brings it to rest on top of his chest over the thin cotton of his t-shirt and just holds his hand over top of yours.

“Baby?” You breathe out into the blackness of the room, worry evident in your tone. Was he angry at you for something else now? You hadn’t even done anything for him to be mad at you about, you’ve been in bed the whole time.

“Sorry, I’m just tired” he mumbles into the pillow but you’re not buying it. Frankie was a bit of a night owl, not to mention it was a Saturday night, neither of you had work in the morning and the two of you always made sure to make the most of your weekend nights together when you could really take the time to make love the way you craved to all week.

“Hey,” you call out softly, grabbing for his shoulder and pulling it towards you so he’ll turn to face you. He lets you, turning halfway to you, onto his back and craning his neck to face you.

“Is everything okay? Are you mad at me or something?” You ask genuinely concerned. You try not to make it sound like you’re pouting because you’re not, you just need to know what’s going on with him. Maybe he’s upset about something, or maybe just a little too drunk to actively participate the way he thinks he should but you wouldn’t mind too much if he was, you certainly don’t mind taking care of him and you know he’ll more than make it up to you the next time.

He lets out a sigh and tiredly rubs at his eyes.

“Of course not. Come here, I’m sorry” he sighs once more and lifts his arm closest to you so you can snuggle into him, your head resting on his shoulder and your arm drapes across his middle again. He tilts his head down slightly to kiss the top of your hair but otherwise makes no moves to initiate anything further physically with you, just holds you tightly to his body.

“Are you really tired?” You ask quietly, turning your face slightly to nuzzle into his neck and plant little kisses there. You feel the little shudder that runs through his body and a smile pulls at your lips.

Maybe he wasn’t mad at you.

“I haven’t given you your present yet” you breathe into the warm flesh of his throat, tongue darting out to give a tentative little lick to the underside of his jaw and he rewards you with the slightest little moan, but it’s enough that you heard it and it encourages you to continue.

You begin to kiss and lick your way down the column of his throat while your hand leaves his chest to come down and gently palm him over his boxers and he instinctively thrusts his hips into your touch and you moan into his skin. You can feel him beginning to swell under your touch already.

“Mmm, can I take you out?” You murmur against his collarbone and he nods his head.

“Yeah,” he lets out in a breathy whisper and brings his own free hand down to help you shove his boxers down his thighs until he’s able to kick out of them.

Your hand wraps around his impressive length the moment he’s free from the confines of his underwear, slowly pumping him with practiced strokes and it’s not long until he’s fully hard in your hand and quietly grunting and groaning, your face buried in the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. You hate that his shirt is still on, your mouth not able to reach all the places it desperately wants to.

Your hand leaves him for a moment as you push yourself up onto your knees and swing one leg over him so you're straddling his hips, your hands resting on his chest overtop of the soft worn cotton.

“You can be tired baby, let me all do the work” you coo, leaning down to place another kiss to his jaw as you slowly grind your pelvis into his. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was just too tired or drunk to have the full cognitive function he needed but that was fine by you, tonight was for him anyways.

“Shit,” he groans, hands sliding under the back of your panties to grope the globes of your ass in his two large hands and he presses you down even harder against his groin just as he thrusts his hips upwards, the delicious friction causing a moan to escape your lips.

“Mmm, you feel so good” you whimper against his heated flesh as you nuzzle the underside of his jaw and into his throat.

“Take these off” Frankie practically growls, impatiently shoving your underwear down and with his help you manage to wiggle free of them. You both moan in unison when your lower halves press together again, this time with no barriers between you as his throbbing member slides through your slick folds with every calculated thrust of your hips against him.

“Baby you make me so wet” you giggle, hands roaming his hard chest and broad shoulders. “God you’re so hot” you praise, mouth latching back onto his neck as you trail hot open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat until you reach the collar of his t-shirt.

“Off” you gently demand, hands going to the bottom of his tee and beginning to push it upwards. You need to feel all of him, his warm skin on yours. Need to lick and kiss and touch every inch of him. “Let me touch you”

“Mnnmm mnmm” he shakes his head and without warning suddenly flips you both with practiced ease until you’re underneath him flat on your back and he’s on hands and knees looming over you. He grabs your wrists and hauls them up above your head, bringing them together so he’s able to hold them down with one hand against the top of the mattress so he can have one free and you giggle up at him.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re supposed to be tired, old man” you tease him but there’s no mirth in his eyes after he hears your words, no lingering smile on his lips. There’s desire, sure, but something else on his features. Subtle, whatever it is, but it’s there.

“Do you wanna fuck or not? Jesus,” he snaps. “I can’t do anything fucking right”

Oh, and there it is. It’s anger.

Your face scrunches up at his little outburst. That was not like Frankie at all. Not your sweet, loving, caring Frankie who adored you, this was someone else, someone you didn’t recognize.

“Get off me” you huff, easily wiggling your wrists free as he wasn’t holding too tightly and you bring your hands up to shove at his chest. His yelling at you instantly taking you out of the mood.

He does, immediately. He rolls off of you, grabs for his discarded boxers near the bottom of the bed and shoves them on. You do the same with your own underwear and also pull the sheet up to cover yourself, not wanting to feel any more vulnerable in front of him than you already do.

You have no idea what in the fuck that was all about, snapping at you like that when you thought everything was going rather well. He really was in a mood today apparently, and you didn’t care for it one bit. You’re already feeling overly emotional today, your period must be just around the corner or something.

The room falls silent. Frankie sits on the edge of the side of the bed, hands on his thighs and head hanging low while you lay back against the headboard, fingers twisting into the sheets, holding them around you like a shield. Tears well in your eyes, threatening to fall but you quickly blink them away before you bury your head in your knees.

“Do you want me to sleep downstairs?” He asks softly, the gruffness gone from his voice now. He sounds almost apologetic, though he’s still yet to apologize. He's not looking at you either, but your grateful for that at this moment.

You say nothing. Not trusting your voice just yet but the tiniest sniffle from your nose is near deafening in the stillness of the room. You quickly clear your throat in an attempt to cover the sound but it’s too late. Frankie’s head whips around back in your direction and he’s suddenly scrambling up the bed to wrap his arms around your lower back. Your legs lower instinctively to let him in and he lies over top of you with his head resting on your middle.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” he breathes out, voice muffled by the thin layer of the bed sheet as he buries his face into your stomach. “I’m an asshole”

“You’re not” you sigh. “Just - tell me what’s going on with you” you say calmly, hands now petting through his hair.

“Nothin’” he grumbles into your tummy.

“It’s not nothing, come on,” you try, a little softer this time. “You can tell me anything, you know I love you no matter what”

“Why?”

It's so quiet, so soft, mumbled against you that your ears almost didn’t even pick it up. Your heart breaks a little at the single uttered syllable.

“Hey,” you frown, grabbing both sides of his face in your hands and forcing him to look up at you. “Are you seriously asking why I love you? Where’s this coming from?” You ask, concerned. He’s been known to get down on himself from time to time but you’ve never seen him like this and it worries you.

He lets out a heavy sigh and rolls off of you, crawling up the bed to lay on his back next to you and rubs his hands over his face.

“Baby, talk to me” you press, turning to your side and curling up to his larger frame, hand stretching out to rest on his chest as your fingers play absently with the soft material of his t-shirt. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, 40 happened” he groans, hand doing a sweeping motion down his body. “I mean, look at this” he shakes his head.

“Oh baby trust me, I look at this every day” you counter, an appreciative smile playing on your lips as your hand gently rubs into his chest.

“This perfect,” you pause to press a kiss into his cheek. “Sexy,” another kiss to his jaw. “Man of my dreams”

“Stop” he huffs, gently pushing you away. “Just don’t… say shit like that. It’s not true” he argues, flipping over onto his side to face away from you.

You know when to push him and when not to, and now is not one of those times. You’ll let him have his moment, knowing if you get too in his face about it he’s likely just going to shut down and you need him to be open with you if you’re going to get anywhere. So instead you just leave him be, but stay nestled into his side, your hand rubbing small circles into his back and shoulder blades, just a soft gesture to let him know you’re here and not going anywhere.

Long minutes pass and after a while you think maybe he’s fallen asleep, until you hear it. It’s barely audible, but it’s there. The tiniest whimper falls from his lips, followed by a quiet little sniffle before he buries his face into a pillow in an attempt to cover it up and your whole heart breaks in two.

“Frankie, baby” you soothe, pulling on his shoulder and forcing him to turn towards you. Surprisingly he doesn’t fight it, just lets you roll him over and he instantly buries his face in your neck once he’s facing you, unable to look you in the eyes. But you don’t need to see him, you can feel the hot tears on his cheeks as he presses into you and you wrap your arms around his shoulders a little tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head as he lets his emotions out.

“I love you, ok?” You whisper against his chocolate brown curls, your lips pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He says nothing, just nods his head against you that he knows you love him and he knows he’s being oversensitive but he just can’t help it.

“I wish you could see what I see” you murmur against him, still hugging him tightly to your body.

Franky gently pushes back from you slightly, quickly wiping at his eyes and collecting himself before his red-rimmed gaze settles on yours.

“I’m sorry I’m in a shit mood and taking it out on you, it’s not fair and you don’t deserve it” he apologizes, shaking his head slightly. “I’m just feeling down on myself I guess and I dragged you into it and I’m sorry”

“Is that what’s been going on all day?” You ask, genuinely curious. You’re starting to piece it together now, all the teasing he’s put up with all day, how he only seemed to be snapping at you when you complimented him or tried to take off his shirt tonight. Not to mention all his friends running around half naked in just their swim trunks all afternoon, most of whom kept themselves in very tip top shape. Maybe Frankie had grown a little softer since the two of you have been together but you loved it on him, his ‘dad bod’ physique. He has nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of, as far as you’re concerned. But you suppose it’s hard not to feel self conscious when standing next to a shirtless Will, Benny or Santiago who all look like they could be models in some sort of hot firefighter calendar or something. None of them did anything for you though, Frankie would always hold your heart and your gaze, no matter who he was standing next to.

“I guess” Frankie sighs, fingers now picking at an imaginary thread on the blanket underneath you. “Sometimes I just wonder…” he trails off again and you frown.

“Wonder what?”

“Wonder what in the hell you’re doin’ with me” he sighs, throwing his hands up. “I’m a fuck-up. Forty years old and what have I accomplished in my life? I have a shit job, working for an asshole I can’t stand, flying tourists around and giving private lessons on the side to rich jerkoffs who don’t give a shit about learning anything about flying, just want a cool photo for their Instagram. Since I left the service I just feel like… Like I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing with my life anymore so I just haven’t done fucking anything. And you… god knows why you give me the time of day but you do and I just don’t ever feel like I’m enough. Least I could fucking do for you is go to the gym and take care of myself, god knows I need to eat healthier” He shakes his head and you’re unsure for a moment if he’s done beating himself up but before you even have a chance to articulate a response he starts up again.

“Like look at this!” He shouts suddenly, voice raised much higher than moments earlier as he rips his shirt off his head and sweeps his hand down his front. “How can you be in love with this, with someone who looks like this?! I… fuck’”

He doesn’t get any more words out, his hands flying to his face to hide his shame as he starts sobbing with how much hatred he apparently holds for himself and you can’t take it. You lurch forward, wrapping your arms around him and holding him as tightly to your body as possible. Thankfully he doesn’t push you away, just grabs onto you like you're his only lifeline, clinging to you with desperation.

“Frankie, my love, oh Frankie” you’re in tears now too, holding onto him for dear life so he can’t slip away from you. You won’t let him. Not this time.

You crawl into his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist and arms still around his neck like a needy spider monkey.

“I love you, so fucking much” you clarify, because you need him to hear you. “I’m sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable. I know I can get carried away sometimes but I guess I just thought you were okay with it, thought we were both into it. But I’ve never lied to you when I tell you how I feel about you or your body. Do you hear me, Francisco?” You ask and after a moment he nods his head just slightly, just once.

“I am crazy about you, whether you believe it or understand it. But if it makes you uncomfortable when I express my physical attraction to you the way that I do, then I'll stop. Or, you know, try to. Sometimes in the heat of the moment it might just come out but you can remind me and I swear I'll do my best. Just tell me what you need from me baby, whatever it is I’ll give it to you. I can’t lose you Frankie, I can’t!” Your tears flow even harder and Frankie’s grip around you tightens at your words.

“I know, I know” he murmurs softly. “Too fucking good for me” he reiterates quietly, but not in an argumentative way like he’d meant it earlier, more like he can’t believe you put up with his shit but he’s so glad that you do. You think maybe your words have sunk in because he's not arguing with you anymore, not berating himself, just absorbing everything. You decide to leave it be for now. You've said your peace, now you can only hope he'll believe your words and take everything you've said into consideration to fend off whatever demons are feasting inside of him. All you want is his happiness and you know that you can't be the one to solely give that to him, that he needs to find it within himself as well, but you're damn sure willing and hoping that he'll take the support you give him and that he'll let you be there at his side to continue to take on this journey of life together. If he wants to find a new job, or a new career even, you'd support him through that in every way you can. You'll do whatever is in your power to get him through this and you just hope now that he knows that.

You hold each other for several minutes, neither of you saying anything further, just taking whatever comfort you have left to offer one another. You don't push him for any more communication, assuming if he's not speaking it's because his thoughts are still a little all over the place and he still hasn't quite worked it all out for himself. He'll talk about it again when he's ready and whether that's tonight or tomorrow or next month, you'll wait for him. He's worth the wait, there's no doubt in your mind about that.

After a while Frankie shifts you both until he’s lied down on his back on the bed with you half draped over top of him and eventually sleep overcomes the tears and emotions and your breathing evens out as you both drift off within minutes of lying down, the full events of the day finally taking its toll on your weary bodies.

When you wake again the sun hasn’t quite risen to the sky but you know it’s only minutes away, not hours. You feel like you didn’t sleep at all. Your head is pounding like you’re the one who finished a gallon of tequila last night, not your boyfriend and his friends. Frankie is beside you, though you’ve more or less switched positions. You’re fully on your back with Frankie’s arm draped across your middle, his face buried into the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder and he snores softly. You’re glad he’s sleeping peacefully, god knows he needs it. You carefully extract yourself from him, needing to get up and use the bathroom, tossing on a pair of shorts and a tank top. As you pad across the plush carpeting and out to the hallway your mind spins a hundred different directions as you think about yesterday, about last night. You were both highly emotional but truth be told you’ve felt off for weeks. More tired. Bitchy. And you know you’ve been taking it out on Frankie even when he’s the last person that deserves it and who knows, maybe he thought you’ve been trying to push away from him and last night he just tried to do it himself before you got the chance to and he let his insecurities get the better of him. Of course that wasn’t your intention, you’ve never felt for anyone the way you feel about him and you meant every word last night when you told him you can’t lose him. You’ve just been a mess lately and you can’t really explain it other than you know it’s nothing to do with Frankie and certainly not his fault, he just takes the brunt of your ‘crazy’ because he’s the closest person to you. You don’t know what the fuck has been going on with you unless…

Shit.

You practically sprint the rest of the way to the bathroom down the hall, tossing open drawers and cupboards and medicine cabinets in a flurry as you look for that precious little white stick that might explain a whole hell of a lot that’s been going on with you.

“Hey” you softly call out from the doorway of the bedroom, leaning up against it with a large glass of water in hand. Frankie slowly stirs. He’s on his stomach now and raises his head to look at you through sleep-bleared eyes, wayward curls falling across his forehead.

“Hey” he rasps out, voice no doubt shot from all the talking and yelling and crying from last night.

This is what the water was for.

You cross the room and he immediately throws the blanket open, inviting you into his warm cocoon as he slightly sits up against the headboard. You hand him the water as you settle in next to his large warm frame and he chugs the entire glass in record time.

“Ah, thank you, I needed that” he says, clearing his throat and then reaching past you to place the glass on the nightstand before he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur into his chest, hand coming up to draw small shapes against his clavicle.

“Like a bit of a first class idiot, if I’m bein’ honest” he sighs and you squeeze your arms around him a little tighter.

“Don’t, babe” you tut, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You were feeling a lot yesterday and it obviously needed to come out. I’m glad it did. We need to be honest with each other, you know?” You tell him, tilting your head to look up at his face. He flashes the tiniest smile at you and leans down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose before you settle back against his chest.

“Some of the things I said last night though, I didn’t even mean. Not really…” he trails off, shaking his head like he’s trying to get his thoughts in order.

You push back from him slightly and up into a sitting position and turn to face him so the two of you can have a real conversation.

“Like what?”

He shrugs shyly and looks away, fingers fidgeting with the blanket around his waist. You hear a mumbled ‘dunno’ fall from his lips. You have a pretty good idea what he’s getting at but know that he’s too embarrassed to say it himself so you help him out, scooting a little closer and placing a hand on his naked chest before you let it slowly drift lower, fingertips dancing across his warm soft flesh and his eyes close and he lets out a content little sigh as he feels your hands on his body again.

“Last night I thought that maybe… I sometimes make you feel uncomfortable when we’re in bed with the attention I give and show you... Was that just insecure Frankie talking?” You ask softly. His eyes are still closed but he nods his head. Your hand rests on his stomach and you slide it upwards again and wrap it around his neck, your thumb brushing back and forth behind his ear.

“Sorry I basically called you a liar last night. That wasn’t fair of me” He tells you sincerely, finally opening his eyes to look back at yours. “I know you love me. All of me. God knows why, but you do” he finishes with a teasing smirk.

“I do love all of you. Every inch. And sometimes I just love showing you how much I do” you shrug.

“I know. And if I’m bein’ honest… I do… y’know, like it. I really like it. I just, yesterday, I don’t know what came over me. Just feeling sorry for myself I guess and wasn’t feeling… up to par, for you, and I guess I got a little too much in my own head. Shit I don’t know, guys teasing me all night, I probably had too much to drink and looking at those stupid pictures of me from when I was much younger and took better care of myself just had me feeling not very good about myself”

“Frankie, baby,” you begin, shifting your position so you can swing one knee over to the other side of his hips so you’re sitting on his lap on your knees facing him while he rests against the headboard. His hands immediately go to your hips and rest there, just holding you, while yours go to his shoulders.

“You never have to doubt for a moment how I feel about you. How I desire you. I need you to hear me on that” you tell him, staring into his eyes in hopes he doesn’t get too embarrassed and turn away from you again. To your delight, he doesn’t. He holds your gaze and his thumbs absently draw small circles on your hips. “I am in love with this Frankie, the one right in front of me. To me he’s sweet and perfect and yeah, he turns me on. Like, a fucking lot. So sorry, but you’re just gonna have to face facts, and thems the facts” you conclude teasingly and he lets out a little chuckle.

“Understood” he nods once before he pushes forward slightly and his mouth latches on to the side of your throat, gently kissing at your inviting flesh. Your head falls back and your hands travel up to hold the back of his head, fingers running through soft chestnut curls.

“There’s something else you said last night…” you begin, trailing off slightly as Frankie’s hot mouth on your skin attempts to distract you.

“Mmm?” He mumbles into your neck, not letting up from what he’s doing as he licks and nips and sucks at the supple flesh of your throat.

Despite wanting nothing more than for him to continue, your hands go to his chest and you gently push him back. He falls back against the headboard with a quiet thud and looks at you with a hint of confusion and worry in his gaze.

“You said you haven’t accomplished anything since leaving the military and well… I just wanted you to know that I am currently in possession of evidence that you have accomplished something very special. Might even be the most important thing you’ve done in your life” you shrug and he raises a curious eyebrow at you.

“Possess… what? What do you mean?”

Rather than spell it out for him, you take his large hand in two of yours and bring it to rest on your stomach, his palm flat across the span of your belly. It’s probably too early for a ‘bump’ just yet but you hold his hand there all the same and within seconds you watch as the realization dawns across his face. At first his brow furrows like he’s confused but then they perk up and his face splits into a giant grin that reaches his eyes and causes them to crinkle at the corners.

“Baby are you… are you serious?” He asks for confirmation and you simply nod your head.

“I mean, I think so. I’ve been feeling kinda off for a while and you my dear boyfriend were too sweet to call me out on any of my crazy shit” you add teasingly and huffs a little laugh but shakes his head. “Then it all kinda clicked into place when I woke up so I took a test this morning and it was positive” you shrug. “I’ll have to make a doctors appointment to be su-“

You don’t get the rest of the words out before Frankie is on you. He surges forward pressing his mouth to yours in a firm kiss before he moves to start peppering tiny little kisses all over your face and neck until you’re bubbling over with laughter as his facial scruff tickles your throat with his frantic movements.

“We’re having a baby?” He asks, eyes welled up with tears as he pushes back from you to stare into yours. He needs to hear you say it, make sure he’s not dreaming this moment. You had a close call together once before, hence the left over pregnancy tests in your bathroom cupboard but nothing came of it. Neither of you expressed disappointment or relief over the false alarm several months back, just kept on with your lives but now it felt different. At least for you. You felt… ready. Excited, even.

“We’re having a baby” you confirm, wide grin across your lips, ecstatic that Frankie is happy with this news.

“Oh my god” he breathes out, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you tightly against his chest so he can bury his nose in your hair. “I'm gonna be a dad?”

“You’re gonna be a great dad” you clarify.

“Oh my god” he breathes out again, pulling you back tightly against him one last time.

“I’m so glad you’re happy about this” you blubber through a few tears, squeezing him back just as tightly. You really weren’t sure how this news would go over, especially given the events of last night and how Frankie currently felt about his position in life but you are incredibly relieved at how happy this news has made him. You weren’t planning this, like at all, but you suppose when you have as much sex as you and Frankie do, no matter how careful you are, it’s bound to happen.

“Of course I'm happy” Frankie murmurs into your shoulder. “I’m so fucking happy” you can feel a few stray tears fall against your skin and you smile, holding him impossibly tighter.

You stay there for several long moments, just letting everything sink in before Frankie speaks and breaks the silence. It’s quiet, muffled into the warmth of your skin as his face stays buried in your neck, but you hear it.

“Will you marry me?”

“What?” You breathe out in shock. You heard him, you know you heard exactly what he said, but… is this really happening?

“Will you-”

“I heard you” you quickly interrupt, gently pulling back from him enough so you can look at each other again. You put both hands on his face, searching for any traces of regret like maybe he just blurted that out because of the endorphins coursing through his body but he looks back at you only with pure love in those giant brown irises of his.

All the same, you need to be sure he’s absolutely sure and not just doing this because he thinks it’s ‘the right thing to do’. You want him to marry you because he wants to marry you, not because of any obligation he might feel. To be honest you’ve been waiting for a while for him to pop the question, you figured you’ve been together long enough, living together even for a while now but it hadn’t happened yet. You try not to feel too over excited that he’s asked you now, in case it’s for the wrong reasons, but you can’t help but feel how your heart practically soared the moment the words fell from his lips.

“And?...” Frankie asks hopefully and you realize it’s been several long seconds without you actually giving him an answer.

“Baby,” You sigh, your gaze glancing down for a moment and you feel his shoulders drop a little, like he’s already anticipating you saying no to him. “I would marry you in a damn heartbeat but… I just don’t want you to ask me now because you think you have to. This is a lot, I just don’t want to put any more pressure on you. I don’t expect you to suddenly feel ready to marry me because of this”

You try desperately to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. If he agrees with you and takes it back you won’t be mad with him but you know your heart will be just a little bit broken.

“Wait right here” he suddenly pipes up, taking your hands and pressing them into your lap before he extracts himself from the bed and runs over to the closet. You watch him closely, not exactly sure what he’s up to as he scavenges around at the top of the closet for a moment, rooting through a box you recognize that holds some of his military achievements that he said he didn’t want to hang up or have on display, a chapter of his life he had closed.

He seems to find what he’s been after and scurries back over to the bed, crawling across it on his knees until he’s back in front of you again and presses a small blue velvet box into your hands. You flip the lid open and a soft gasp leaves your lungs.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to do this” he shrugs. “I bought it weeks ago and I wanted to, you know, plan something big for you and then ask you but, I mean, what’s a bigger moment than this, right?”

Your eyes well up again (happy tears this time) as you stare down at the beautifully crafted diamond engagement ring that sparkles brightly despite the low lighting of your bedroom. The band is a beautiful rose gold, your favourite, and the cut of the diamond and style of the ring is one you’ve been dreaming about since you were a little girl. Clearly Frankie paid attention all those times you happened to pass by a jewelry store together.

“You’ve had this for weeks?” You ask through your tears, still not believing it, your dream actually coming true. Not only was Frankie asking you to marry him, but it was his idea and something he’d decided on long before he knew you were pregnant.

“Yeah I guess I’ll have to call off the marching band and the flash-mob dancers now though” he teases with a smirk. “Unless you want me to take it back and-” he goes to reach for the ring but you snatch the box out of reach, clutching it to your chest.

“Not on your life pal” you playfully threaten.

“Can I at least put it on you then?” he laughs. “That is, if you’re saying yes? Wait, let me…” he trails off and scoots off the bed again only to kneel down on one bent knee beside it. He reaches up and turns you so you’re facing him and a huge dopey smile spreads across your lips as you watch him want to do this at least somewhat properly. If anyone asks later you’ll leave out the part where he’s half naked when he popped the question.

“May I have that back, just for a second?” He asks and you oblige him, handing back the box.

He begins with saying your full name and your heart practically flutters in your chest as you take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure and get through this without being a weeping, blubbering mess.

“Would you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?” he asks, slight tremble in his voice from his nerves and all you can do is give him a face splitting smile before you frantically nod your head and yank him up from the floor, crushing your mouth to his.

“Yes I’ll marry you Francisco Morales” you murmur against his lips between hungry kisses. “About damn time” you tease and he laughs at that as well. He knows he probably should have done this sooner but he’d been waiting to save up enough money to get you the perfect ring he knew you deserved.

Frankie regretfully pulls away from your mouth to carefully pull the ring from the box and place it on your finger before he holds both your hands in his and lets out a big sigh of relief.

“You make me so happy” he confesses, leaning down so his forehead rests against yours. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever given you any reason to doubt that, but you’re the best thing in my life. Best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making sure that you and this little one feel the same way about me”

“I will always feel the same way about you Frankie” you promise, eyes slipping shut as another tear escapes which Frankie gently brushes away with the pad of his thumb.

“You’re sure you’re still gonna love me when I’m even more of a pain in the ass in a few months than I am now?” You ask playfully and Frankie huffs a laugh but nods his head affirmatively.

“We’re locked in now baby” Frankie affirms, gently twisting the ring around your finger. “It’s you and me”

“Plus one” you add, looking down to your tummy and Frankie laughs.

“Plus one” he confirms. “And maybe down the line… more than one?” he asks playfully, moving a little closer and nuzzling into your throat before he begins to plant hot little open-mouthed kisses there. You laugh wholeheartedly, your head tossing backwards. Leave it to Frankie to learn five minutes ago that you’re barely pregnant and already asking you if you want another. You really did love him with all your heart and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier than in this moment.

And it turns out that was the truth, that was your happiest moment, until about seven months later a new one replaces it as you hold your beautiful daughter in your arms for the first time. Frankie is at your side with his forehead resting against yours as a tiny hand clutches around one of his large fingers, the one that happens to have a shiny gold band around it now, and tears flow freely down his cheeks. He’d barely gotten there in time for your unexpectedly two-week-early delivery, but he’d made it. Thankfully he was well enough known around the hospital by this point that they allowed him to land his bird on the helipad on the roof before he jumped out and let his co-pilot take over for him as he rushed inside to find you.

It turned out Frankie had found his calling not long after your little unexpected surprise all those months ago. His reflections on the direction his life was going, coupled with your exciting news of having an addition to your family, gave him the push he needed to have his career together in a way that was both rewarding and challenging to him and after a few months of long days and intense training he was accepted into the local Red Cross chapter’s Search and Rescue Program as a Lead Pilot. He loved his job again. He was proud of what he did and most importantly knew that his family could be proud of him too. It allowed him to give back and to serve his community and country the way he always felt he was meant for, except now he could do it and still be home in time for dinner most nights, not shipping out to god knows where for months at a time as he had done in the service.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Morales” the doctor beamed at the two of you, though neither of you could take your gaze off the tiny bundle in your arms long enough to look back at her. Frankie mumbled a polite ‘thank you’ towards her before pressing a kiss into your temple.

“You did it baby” he murmurs against your skin and you can feel the smile spread across his lips.

“We did it baby” you correct him, turning your head just slightly to press a kiss to the underside of his chin. “We made this beautiful, perfect angel” you sigh, nuzzling back in towards your daughter, inhaling that euphoric ‘new baby smell’ you’d up until now only read about but now completely understood.

“My girls” Frankie sighs, heart swelling with content at how goddamn lucky he got in his life.

“Thank you for loving me” he confesses, lips pressed to your temple.

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