Headphone, Earplugs, And I Dont Give A Fuxk

The Benefits of Being a Marine Biologist (Part 3)

Part 1 - Part 2 Merman x transmasc reader Contains: first kiss with your monster boy crush and then you make out. Extreme communication and consent because that's very sexy Warnings: mentions of arousal Length: 1.7k words

You've lost count of how many days you have visited Abalone. The weeks had turned into a blur of begrudgingly working at the laboratory and wringing out any spare time you could to go to the beach to see him.

Today you were coming to visit with a gift. It was silly, really, but you felt compelled to give him something tangible from the human world. He tries his best not to show it, but you suspect he gets lonely when you don't come to visit.

As you walk down the now well-traveled sand path through the grass, you realize you're feeling nervous. But why? You're just going to give him a gift. That's a completely normal thing to do. And Abalone won't be mean to you if he doesn't like it - his grasp of human socialization is loose at best, so he would just tell you what he thinks of it. You take a deep breath as you exit out of the brush onto the beach.

There he was, as always, in the water framed by the sinking orange sun. You've told him he should be more careful in case someone else saw him, but he always dismisses your worries and says he knows how to hide. For his sake you hope that's true.

You run down to the shore, and Abalone comes to the edge of the water to meet you. As you pause to drop your bag in the sand and kick off your shoes, he pulls himself out onto the sand in the very edge of the waves, propping up his head with his hands to watch you. You walk over to sit next to him in the sand.

"You should be careful, if you get beached I don't think I can haul you back into the water."

Without missing a beat he asks, "What is beached?"

"It's when an animal gets too close to the shoreline and gets stuck in the sand. Like you right now," you tease.

"Oh. I have seen that before. Very bad."

You look around at the tiny beach in disbelief. "What on earth managed to beach itself here?"

"Not here," he answered. "Somewhere else. A long time ago."

"Oh? Where else did you live?"

He didn't reply to you, his mood clearly dampened by thinking about the past.

"Nevermind about that. I brought you something! A human trinket for you to keep."

Abalone perked up and looked at you eagerly. "Ooo! Show me!"

Taking a small pouch from your pocket, you explained to him, "Now, this is supposed to be waterproof, so it won't rust. I went into town thinking of something to get for you, and I thought this was pretty perfect."

You take the silver necklace out of its silky bag. Holding it out for him to see, you say, "It's an abalone shell pendant! Because that's your name." You laugh nervously. "It's okay if you don't actually like jewelry, I just thought it would be nice to give you something."

Abalone stared at the necklace silently, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Did he really hate it? Had you somehow offended him?

Something changed in his expression. You couldn't quite place it at first, but you quickly realized it was that his cheeks were darkening. He was blushing.

"I… um…" He tried to say something to you, but his voice caught in his throat.

"I'm sorry!" you exclaim, instinctively shifting away from him and clutching the necklace to your chest. "I didn't mean to upset you or anything, I just wanted to do something nice-"

"No, not that," he cut you off. He hid his face in his hands as he said, "For us something like that is asking for courtship."

Oh no. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to- I didn't mean to do anything like that! I'm sorry Abalone, I've made you uncomfortable, haven't I?"

He looked at you with one eye peeking out from between his fingers. "No, it's fine. It is just that… no one would do that for me. Not for real."

He looked so sad, and something came over you. Without thinking you leaned toward him and put a hand over his own on his face. "Why would you think that? You're perfectly lovely."

He didn't move, but he didn't resist your touch either. "There are reasons."

"You don't have to talk about it. It's okay." Your mouth moving faster than your mind, you continued, "Maybe it doesn't mean as much coming from a human, but I do like you a lot. You're funny and sweet and you would never let me get anywhere close to drowning on your watch."

He moved his hands down from his eyes to look at you. "You mean it?"

"Yes." You took his hands into yours and looked into his dark eyes. "What if I do mean it?"

He looked at you blankly as you realized what you had just said. Feeling your own face flushing, you turned and picked up the necklace from where you had dropped it in the sand.

One hand in his, the other holding out your gift, you ask again quietly, "What if I do mean it?"

"… You do?" He whispered, as if afraid to break the quiet tension.

Moving slowly with hesitation, Abalone sat upright in the sand, his tail trailing off into the water. You leaned closer to him, and he gently pulled you toward himself with your hand that he still held. Tentatively leaning in toward each other, your lips meet his. You tasted salt as he slowly pulls away from you.

You look at each other silently, frozen with nervousness. With his sleek body so close to yours, you couldn't deny it any more. Abalone wasn't only an object of your curiosity.

He breaks the silence. "Was that all right?"

You smile at his slight misuse of the word. "Yes," you reply breathlessly. "Definitely."

You lean forward and kiss him again. This time he doesn't move away. He gently puts his arms around you as your lips meet again. And again. Despite his large size, he touches you so softly. His sharp teeth graze your lips.

Without breaking your embrace, you pull yourself onto his lap. You put your arms around his neck and your hands in his hair, and he hugs you to himself a bit tighter. "So pretty," he mumbles when his mouth parts from yours. "Pretty human boy."

Abalone kisses you deeper, his hands on your waist now. You wonder how long he has been waiting for this. How long you have wanted this.

You feel his tongue on your bottom lip, and you can't help but pull away from him giggling. Seeing him frown and his big sad eyes, you quickly say, "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I promise. Do you have a forked tongue?"

"What?"

"Like is it split down the middle?"

"Maybe?" He stuck out his tongue a bit to show you. It was a darker gray like his hands and tail, and it was indeed forked.

"It is! Like a lizard," you laugh. "See, this is what I'm used to." Your demonstration of a human tongue seemed to amused him.

Abalone pressed his forehead against yours as you mindlessly played with his hair. "Is this bad? For you and me to…" he trailed off.

"I don't think so," you answer quietly. "And maybe, even if it is, I don't care."

Seemingly satisfied with that thought, he gently began kissing you again. Slowly he kissed harder, and you leaned into the pressure. Your hands gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, and his claws poked into your back.

When you were pressed into him nearly as hard as you could be, Abalone carefully flipped you over and laid you down on the sand. Your mind went blank at the sight of him above you, his damp skin glowing in the dying light.

He bent down and continued to kiss you, his mouth trailing down your neck. You felt his teeth on your skin and you gasped quietly. He was giving you gentle love bites, careful not to break the skin but the pinpricks still made you dizzy. His tail was between your legs and you felt his hips pressing into yours. You held his neck and shoulders tighter as your back arched to meet his touch. It didn't take long for you to become hard and wet.

His frantic pace of kisses and bites gradually slowed until he gave you one final kiss on your lips and laid down on top of you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"Was that too much?" He shyly mumbled into your shoulder.

You struggle to find your voice again. "… No, not at all."

He flopped over to lie in the sand next to you, hugging his arms to himself and avoiding your gaze. But he does turn to look at you when you quietly say his name.

"That was wonderful." You reach over to take his hand. "Maybe we can do it again?"

He blushed furiously at that, but didn't look away from you. "Yes, maybe." He held up the necklace from wherever the fuck it had ended up in the sand. "Can you help with this?"

You laugh and pull him to sit up with you. You undo the clasp and instruct him how to hold his hair out of the way. Reaching around his neck, you lock your gift in place.

Smiling sweetly, Abalone touched the pendant on his chest. "Thank you."

Wishing you could stay for the rest of the night, you sighed dramatically. "The sun is almost fully down. I really should go now."

He nodded and tilted his head, silently posing the regular question.

"I can come back tomorrow night! And since tomorrow is Friday, I don't have to worry so much about going home."

He grinned at you brightly. "Tomorrow. I have things to do, then." And with that, he slipped back into the shallows to swim away. A flick of his tail splashed you with seawater, and with that he was gone.

You didn't know whether to be excited or worried by his final words. Gathering your things and beginning the trek home, you figured you'd have to wait and see.

AN: thank you all for your patience while I took like two months to finish writing this! I plan for part 4 to be the final part, and it will probably be very long and very explicit :3 Thank you for reading as always xoxo Tip Jar on Ko-Fi (requests/commissions coming soon??)

this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℙℍ𝕆𝔼ℕ𝕀𝕏

Future poly 141 (if I wanna continue this or y'all want to know more abt this)

Here are some warnings: major injury, depiction of blood and....uh...heartbreak cuz of love (?)

The human kind always escribed phoenixes as mythological birds capables of incredible doings, capable of being almost immortals and representing good omens. Their golden orangesque wings and their red markings made them the symbol of the sun, therefore, life.

It is said that a phoenix once fought in the trojan war, along side Achilles and Patroclus giving them protection alongside their allies. The man was taller than any human could ever be, some text described him as 2.40 meters tall (7 foot 10) with short black hair and skin tattered with flames patterns on his hands, feet, back and shoulders. His golden eyes and deep lucent black irises were always focused on the enemy, never leaving them out of sight and using his personal spear and bow to gain casualties to laugh about. But the most outstanding feature were his wings, big and slender, filled with bright golden orange and red sharp feathers used as weapons.

It was you who did all of that, it was you who had a personality that had you killed many times and then be reborn until the modern days.

You had been alive for more than 2000 years in a constant cycle of life and death, the more you lived, the more you knew how to brawl, study and everything making you a respected being. But only one thing you didnt learn, and that was how to love. You tried over and over again, falling and then watching them die or cheat or abandon you.

There was this one girl, a princess of a powerfull kindom whom you really loved. It was clear she did the same as after some years she offered her body for you to worship and have a child, or so you thought. One evening, as she spoke of tussling in the sheets, she mentioned that she really needed to know if your love was true by chopping off your wings and offering them. The ones that made you fly into the scorching sun, between the lush green mountains of their pearly white peaks. You listened to her, with half lidded eyes and a gone mind too captured by her demeanors and features, you didn't notice the sharp pain scattering itself from your back. Your breath itched and then was gone, and so were your wings. Thick golden rivers of blood flew your open lacerations, carving paths of your lover back and forming deep lakes on the marble floor.

You couldnt yell from the pain, only managing to fall on the ground and squirming like a worm as your mind was becoming more foggy by the minute. You managed to shoot them open for a split second and you caught a glimps of the guard’s bloodied swords, they were beautifully adorned by your golden essence. You spat out a ‘’traitor’’ and an ‘’I will end you’’ before closing your eyes and feeling death wrapping itself inside your now broken heart.

You loved and that was how you were repaied. You woke up in your den on the peaks of the mountain you were once born. The cave was simple and you always hated that. Wanting more was the reason you left it for years before coming back there everytime you closed your eyes, now you wanted nothing more than to sleep in it forever.

Tears rolled off your eyes as you screamed at top of your lungs, animalistic rage speaking and screaming. Your wings were no more, your essence was no more, what was a phoenix without its wings? Nothing. Fake love tore your wings apart and that feeling nestled itself in your soul. Never again you would’ve loved someone again.

From fists, to spears, to daggers, to swords to guns you made your way into the world. Now you were in the military, you decided that this was going to be your forever life. Generals wanted you for your skills, sharpened for thousands of years and your reflexes, your knowledge and your loyalty as you had noone to be loyal to.

From humans to monsters was no easy passage. Seeing their bodies slowly mutate into feral ones wasn’t a shook to you, you saw and felt worse. Your mind didn’t care about your ‘’friends’’ of the battlefield, not until you saw a one winged dragon discussing with a wraith.

You were boarding on a plane towards Urzikstan, voices told that there was a new wanna-be-lord to be taken care of and you were chosen along many other people. As you had your head low and fixated into nothingness you heard some commossion, looking at that direction you made eyecontact with that green dragon. You sneakered and laughed, mocking its inability to fly and the way he was compulsively smoking before boarding the cargo plane.

He eyed your form before crumbling his cigar into smoking bits and yelling you to fuck off. As you sat on the metal seat, squished between other captains you felt some weak embers leaving your hands and falling off your fingers as they become just a non-existing spark.

That was bad, you did that only when you felt yourself falling for someone, that was not happening. Not anymore.

Little did you know that from love you lost your wings, and from love you shall recieve your wings back. In a way. Or another.

♡ My Cuddles! || König & Krueger

┊pairing : könig x gn!reader x sebastian krueger ┊content warning : fluff, slight jealousy, cuddles, a little suggestive, swearing ┊word count : 1.3 k ┊a/n : look-sometimes you just need two masked men who want to fight for your cuddles alright? *sobbing defending myself*

It was going to be a long fucking night, that much was for sure. The night watch duty was torn between the three of you: König, Krueger & Yourself.

With your hour already done, it was time to get a bit of sleep before the next one.

With the masks hanging ominously over their faces. The two Austrian men watched as you walked with a heavy step over the the only bed in the dim cabin. Eyes and intents hidden under dark fabric that blanketed their faces, neither relenting in their quest to keep their identities hidden.

Yet, both heads turned subtly, trailing after your retreating form.

Krueger was sitting in the corner of the one room cabin, shucking quiet pieces of wood onto the ground. Digging his blade into a piece of wood as he carved it out and looked it over, pretending to keep busy even if his eyes flickered over and stole a glance at you taking your boots off.

König meanwhile, was standing by the window, arms folded over his chest and leaning against the wooden walls. Glaring out into the dark snowy night, making sure nothing shifted or moved out there. Pretending somewhat that his blue eyes weren't also flickering occasionally across the room to watch you slip under the covers of the blanket.

Your soft, satisfied sigh made them both momentarily pause. The sudden tension in their shoulders making the two men glance at each other.

Krueger's sniper veil swayed slightly as he considered König, and König's eyes turned icy, brows furrowing. A silent shared sentiment passing between them.

They were both thinking the same thing.

Krueger was the first to move, nearly jumping to his feet. Setting his rough carving down on the table, twirling the blade between his fingers before sheathing it back into his belt.

Under his hood, König's mouth hung open slightly at the man's audacity. Watching rigidly and slightly panicked as the veiled mercenary stalked over to the side of the bed, looming over you with an aura of mischief.

"Sleeping soundly?" he murmured, leaning over to gauge your expression better. The edges of his veil bristling against your arm as he whispered, "Cold, schatz?"

Before you could turn and address the sudden intrusion, Krueger was already slipping his boots off and crawling in behind you with a grunt. Throwing an heavy arm around your waist as if he's done this a thousand times before.

König's eyes widened, the shock evident through the small windows in his mask. His watch completely forgotten the moment Krueger lifted his head up, checked to see that König was looking, and with a seemingly satisfied-smug-gesture, his arm tightened around your waist... pulling your body flush against his own. Your ass pulled back against his hips.

If Krueger could see the tall snipers face, he'd bet there was a vein throbbing against his temple, ready to burst.

König's eye twitched, gloves creaking in protest as they balled up into tight fists.

He crossed the room in a few strides, looming over the other side of the bed and damn near ripping the blanket off. "Was zum Teufel!" he whisper yelled harshly, icy eyes glued to Krueger's body against yours like he wanted to strangle him. "What the fuck are you doing!?"

Krueger hardly flinched, resting his chin on your shoulder innocently-the bastard. "I'm keeping meinen Kleinen Liebling warm."

"You are making things uncomfortable!" they continued to whisper shout to each other, as if you weren't quite literally stuck between the argument to protest yourself.

Kruger huffed, reaching a gloved hand to tilt your chin his way. Able to see your face over your shoulder.

Your face was the picture of perfection to him. Inviting, surprised, and a beautiful dark blush blossomed across the bridge of your nose, spilling onto the architecture of your face.

"Are you uncomfortable, schatz?" he purred the name out, unable to help the way his body was starting to react with you so close. You fit so perfectly against him... like you were made to fit in his arms. The bubble of warmth between your two bodies pleasant... and your hips pulled back against his was giving him ideas.

König watched on in horror and Krueger's gloved hand gave your hip and experimental squeeze. The color draining from his skin the moment you shook your head quietly. The blush painting your complexion all-telling.

König had no fucking choice but to back up then, if you had no protests then there shouldn't be any further discussion...

but he watched as Krueger cuddled his veiled face into your hair, breathing you in enthusiastically as you tensed. His actions making your pulse visibly jump under the delicate skin of your throat. Krueger's arms wrapping more firmly around your waist... wandering up to try and splay across your chest- and no way he was going to take that any longer.

A surprise to everyone, König had lifted the blanket hastily, inviting himself into the tangle of limbs.

A small surprised squeak came from your lips, the bed dipping as König climbed in quickly, his own arms wrapping around your back and pulling you into his chest. The two of them beginning to fight like two little boys on the playground.

"Verdammt, du großer bastard!" Kruger hissed as your shoulders were pulled away from his chest, the cold filling in your sudden absence. He gripped at your hips a bit harder, determined to pull you back.

"Halt die klappe! Du kleines arschloch!" König gritted out, much stronger than him.

Both of them huddled closer, leaving no inch for you to even squirm away. Their bodies brushing and squishing you lightly between them.

König reached over your shoulder, pushing insistently against Krueger, trying to peel him off your body like a bug. The sniper's hard chest and arm barring you against him.

Krueger was hardly taking the sudden childish act, retaliating with his own. His leg shuffled between yours, kicking at König's shins, trying to push him out of the bed that he had claimed first.

"Hey," you whispered, between their little scuffle. König's hand pushing at Krueger's veiled face, smearing his head away, while Krueger's foot was getting closer to kicking König in the balls. The two not noticing your growing exasperation.

"Hey!" you finally shot up, their limbs halting to glance up at you. For a moment, both feared you would get up and leave their arms empty. And just like that... they calmed, listening despite the scowls on their hidden faces.

"Both of you... just... be quiet and go to sleep... or don't, I don't care," you muttered, falling back into the bed with a soft thump.

The two of them watched your face quietly before turning to each other. An ominous 'you almost fucking ruined it' aura seeping from both of them.

"Just... stop fucking moving," you murmured sleepily. As much as they were, the two of them were actually really warm. Wrapping around you like the worlds best weighted blanket.

You relaxed against them, letting your eyes flutter closed to find a moments peace. The feeling of you softening made both of their heart flutter dangerously in their chests.

Begrudgingly, they complied, muttering quiet curses.

König cradled your head close to his chest, smoothing down your hair with an almost imperceptible touch that belied his size, your leg bent delicately over his own... and Krueger held your hips, wrapping a gentle arm around your stomach, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. The quiet and calm finally seeping into the cabin.

everyone give anon a kiss for helping & correcting the translations :)

Expanding on this.

warnings: perv!König, noncon groping, somno, titfucking

-

Best Friend!König who’s obsessed with your tits.

You’ve known each other since childhood, and while he shot up in height, you shot up in bra size. And König noticed. Mien Gott, did he notice.

He was around fifteen when he realized for the first time just how nice your breasts felt against his big body when he hugged you, so soft and warm. He started taking any excuse to give you long, drawn out hugs—though of course he told himself it was just because he loved you so much. You were the only person who didn't bully him, after all.

He rationalized how his gaze started to end up on your cleavage more often than your face, too. He was just so tall, that even if he tried to look into your eyes—and he did, Schatz, he really did! You have to believe him, he tried so hard—he could see straight down your top, anyway.

And, well, he was no saint—just a man. And your tits were so pretty.

Could you really blame him for looking? He just wanted to admire you…

He always insisted on driving you places once he got his license—he was a good friend, after all, and he liked being useful. That he got to throw his arm out across your soft chest every time the car in front of him stopped too suddenly was just a bonus.

As the years passed by, his obsession grew—especially after he found porn. Most nights, he fisted his long, fat cock to videos of women who looked like you having their breasts played with, abused, worshipped. He preferred the latter, but he couldn’t deny there was something thrilling about the idea of slapping your soft tits and watching them jiggle. He would be sure to kiss them better after, though.

Once, after a particularly rough mission, König showed up at your place beaten to hell, eyes scarily hollow. You immediately let him inside, pulled him down onto your couch, and held him as he cried. He laid his head on your chest, seeking the comfort only your breasts could give him, and you shushed him softly as you petted his hair. He wished desperately in that moment that he could pull your top down, latch onto one of your cute little nipples, and suckle to his heart’s content, but he settled for leaning more and more of his weight on you until you had to lay back on the couch, him on top of you with his face buried in between your tits as he feigned sleep.

He was far too heavy for you to move yourself, and clearly, you felt bad for him, because you let him stay like that the whole night rather than wake him up.

On your twentieth birthday, König made sure he would have two whole weeks of leave, so he could spend time with you and your perfect breasts. He didn’t have the best relationship with his family, and you didn't have a roommate at Uni, so you let him stay in your dorm. You weren’t going to make your best friend sleep on the floor, of course, so the two of you shared a bed. Nothing untoward happened until the fourth night, when you both got outrageously drunk. You curled up in the tiny bed together when you got back from the pub, and promptly knocked out.

When you woke up the next morning, though, it was to one of König’s massive paws slipped under the neck of your dress, cupping your left tit.

To say you freaked out was an understatement.

You jumped up like you arse was on fire, hollering at him, demanding to know what the fuck he thought he was doing. König, who had been dead asleep, actually fell out of the bed, looking up at you for once, his big, perpetually sad eyes wide with complete confusion and a little bit of fear. When he realized what you were accusing him of, he started stuttering apologies, mortified with himself. You thought it was because he had unintentionally groped you in his sleep, which was partially true. But the main reason he was so upset was because he hadn’t even gotten to enjoy it. He’d held your beautiful breasts for the very first time and he hadn’t even known! The thought made him tear up, and you quickly forgave him, telling him that you believed him—"Accidents happen."

Every time it happened after that, König let you believe it was still an accident.

The more time he spent in the military earning his fearsome reputation and seeing terrible horrors, the bolder he grew. Now, when he visited you in your flat and gave you those sad puppy eyes until you let him sleep in bed with you rather than on the couch, he did not merely cup your breast at night. He played with your nipples, rolling the sensitive little buds between his fingers, tugging and pinching and delighting in the sleepy sounds of pleasure you let out. You tended to wake up if he got his mouth on them though, so he restrained himself—at least until he was able to get you drunk. You slept like dead when you were wasted, and he had free reign over your amazing tits. He squeezed and sucked, kissed and licked, even fucked them, once. He’d been a little drunk too, that night, or he wouldn't have risked it—but seeing his massive cock nestled between your breasts was like a revelation. He found God in the warm embrace of your tits, and he made an offering in the form of his seed, spilling it all over your chest, neck, and lips.

It felt blasphemous to clean his come from your skin, like he was desecrating a sacred altar, but he knew you would hate him if you discovered what he’d done. And he couldn’t have that—he loved you, he always had and always would. You and your heavenly breasts.

Alpha price fucking his little omega through his heat? Maybe it’s a poly where reader is the entire team’s omega (if you’re okay with writing that, ik you just did a poly team x reader) and they help their baby boy through his heat together as one big strange dysfunctional pack

Two years late, but...

Poly!141 x M!Reader ↪ 1998 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male dominant alpha Price, cis male switch alpha Ghost, cis male switch alpha Soap, cis male switch alpha Gaz, dual-sex male submissive omega reader, a/b/o dynamic, pack hierarchies, voyeurism, breeding, gangbang/group sex, scenting/scent glands, knotting, natural lubrication, biting, oral sex, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, unsafe sex, and established relationship.

While the op had been successful, it had run overtime, head on into a near week long blizzard that had snowed the team into the safe house and made neither extraction by air nor land possible. The few extra heat suppressants you’d brought in case of emergency had only done so much, especially in the face of your circumstances.

While the old building was equipped with an even older heating system, the rusted burner hadn’t been run nor the oil replaced in what you could only assume had been years. Soap had spent a handful of hours running safety checks while the taskforce kept (tactically) huddled for warmth, the Scot finally determining the old hunk of junk wouldn’t blow the place and everyone inside to smithereens the second it was turned on. 

Safe to run, but the oil was so degraded it burned twice as fast and the tank was only three quarters full, which meant rationing.

Then Soap had mentioned to Price that shit oil makes more exhaust, and while it was the middle of a blizzard in fuck-knows, Russia, they did have valuable (and very stolen) data on them that they’d obtained (very much stolen) not even a few days prior.

So thus, more rationing. Just enough heat to keep everyone from freezing to death, which wasn’t much.

You and the lads had taken two of the three sizable mattresses and pushed them together on the floor, gathering all the blankets and spare linens you could dig out of the basement and closets to make a massive nest to help insulate heat. 

The only time any of you got up out of the thing was to shut the heat on or off, piss or shit, or use the little electronic hotplate Ghost always brought with him; heating snow to wash with or make tea with, or cooking the pantry’s stash of canned beans (that’d expired a month prior) once you’d run out of MREs.

Being out of suppressants in a freezing, enclosed space, nesting near non-stop with the four very fertile alphas whos’ cocks you regularly took was already a pretty good concoction for triggering a flash heat. 

You forgot to take into account you skipped your last medically mandated heat, klepping an extra box of the little pills from the MTF in order to skip your placebos.

Your heat hit hard and fast, awakening you in the night with cold chills, an obscene amount of slick tacky between your bare thighs, your cock achingly hard and hole achingly empty.

Price, who’d been pressed up to your back in nothing but ratty sweats and wool thick socks, awoke first. The scent of your heat slick made his nose twitch, his throat thick with saliva as his cock grew so hard so quickly he might’ve been dizzy if he hadn’t been lying down. 

You keened low in your throat at the smell of his arousal blanketing you—wood smoke and something like wet grass—and shivered at his answering growl, his muscle-corded arms squeezing tight around you as he pressed his mouth to your throat, licking wetly over your scent gland. 

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs with a shuddering breath, his beard tickling your oversensitive skin and making you whimper, “Mmh, I’ve got you, lad.”

He sucks bruises around your gland, his free hand wasting no time in shoving his sweats far enough down his thighs to free his throbbing cock. His first few thrusts are sloppy and uncoordinated with the remains of sleep, his prick pushing between your slick wet thighs. 

“Please~!” You whine, the friction of his cock slipping through your folds maddening in your heat drunk state. You push your hips back as he thrusts forward again, the bulbous tip catching on your entrance before popping past the tight ring of muscle. You nearly scream as his fat cock bullies into your sopping cunt, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, muffling your desperate moans as he fucks into you.

“Slutty little omega,” he rumbles, his voice dripping with affection despite the words, “gonna wake the others, hm?”

He snarls against the back of your neck, teeth digging in to scruff you before he shoves the blankets down off your bodies. One hand over your mouth and the other gripping your thigh bruisingly tight, he rolls onto his back with you in his grasp, his cock carefully kept sheathed as he plants his feet and begins to pound up into you, his heavy balls slapping wetly against the base of your shaft and forcing your moans up a pitch.

Price unscruffs you, teeth returning to scrape along your pulsing gland. Your head lulls onto his shoulder, gaze turning to the side to see the glint of the dim oil lamp reflected in Soap’s sky blue eyes, locked onto where Price’s prick thrusts in and out with obscene squelches. 

His blanket shifts with the movement of his arm, and you belatedly realize he’s stroking himself off to the sight of you being bred by your shared pack Alpha, a mere yard away. You whine longingly, a gush of slick squirting from your cunt as you try to beckon the other Alpha over to you, using your wanton scent to draw his instincts. 

The second he tries to move, scrambling onto his hands and knees, the large shadow of Ghost is on him, pinning him down by the scruff of his neck and rumbling so deep in his chest it barely registers in your ears. 

“Get first dibs,” he rumbles, pulling up his mask just enough to nip threateningly at Soap’s ear, a warning, before he releases the Scot, shuffling across the mattress to settle between yours and Price’s legs.

“Oh, c’mon, Lt!” the Sergeant bemoans weakly.

Soap sulks, but knows the order of operations is in place for a reason—remembers how the first time you’d gone into heat, Ghost had nearly torn Soap to shreds when the Scot tried to claim you first, the Lieutenants already trauma-sensitive instincts forced into overdrive in the face of your hormones.

Soap knew Ghost only bent the knee to Price when he was like this, and so he grumbles unhappily, and grabs a pillow to hump as he settles in to watch and wait for his turn.

The movement of Price’s hips slows as Ghost nuzzles against yours and the Captain’s thighs, sucking at the scent glands there as if he could drink down both of your scents. His over-long tongue licks around the wet seam where Price’s cock splits you wide, making the both of your hips twitch, before he trails sucking wet kisses up the shaft of your small cock, rumbling happily, the sharp scent of charcoal mingling with Price’s own musk as he takes the throbbing prick into his mouth and down to the root with ease. 

You cry out, back arching as he suckles, drinking down the copious amounts of precum your tip weeps. Price begins fucking up into you again in slow, heavy thrusts that have the head of his cock poking against your womb every single time. The movement in turn makes Ghost’s head bob up and down your length, wet slurping and gagging resounding through the room as he feasts, Price’s balls tapping the man’s chin with each thrust.

Soap shuffles over to you slowly, keeping his posture low to the mattress so as to not pose a threat to either of the primary Alphas. Price gives a warning rumble, but settles when Soap merely leans down to lick at the hand covering your mouth, asking wordlessly for permission to kiss you. Price’s hand moves instead to your throat, and Soap wastes no time sloppily licking into your mouth and huffing happily with the uncoordination of your own lips, too fucked out and overwhelmed to kiss back properly. 

A growl like a dying engine has you jolting, the vibrations around your prick having you crying out against Soap’s lips. You turn your gaze down to Ghost to see Gaz sidling up behind the Lieutenant, a gentle hand rubbing up and down the larger man’s bicep. Gaz only lets out a placating purr in response, a sound more befitting of an Omega.

“Easy, sir,” Gaz murmurs softly, soothing.

Ghost has pulled off of your cock, lapping absentmindedly at the pulsing flesh as he watches Gaz like a hawk, a wild dog guarding its meal. Over the heady, aroused musk of the three alphas, you can make out the calming honey and chamomile of Gaz’s unnaturally sweet scent as he intentionally pushes it outward, leaning down below Ghost’s head to mouth at Price’s sac, tongue lathering over the course hairs before sucking one then the other into his mouth. Both Ghost and Price rumble their satisfaction, their hindbrains basking in the supplication of one of their pack’s secondary Alphas.

While Price’s thrusts are significantly slower to accommodate the two men forcing your legs apart around their shared bulk, the sensation is no less satisfying, your cunt milking Price’s cock, stimulating his knot in hopes of making it swell.

Price grips your hair with one hand, turning you back toward Soap who’s now knelt beside your head, his cock purplish red and dripping with neglect.

“Go on, Sunshine,” Price rumbles, “been good n’ patient. Be gentle, now.”

Soap rubs his tip across your lips, smearing the pre like gloss before you part your kiss swollen lips, moaning wantonly around the length as he shallowly fucks your mouth.

You can feel Price’s knot slowly swelling, catching on your sore and abused rim with each thrust. Soap has gone from quick, shallow thrusts to slow and deep, the ocean scent of him filling your nostrils each time his pubes tickle your nose. You can feel how stilted his movements are, careful to keep from losing control and simply mounting the hot wet hole of your mouth in fear of setting off the other Alphas. 

Ghost’s hand has taken to stroking you, him and Gaz mouthing at either of Price’s balls, taking turns lapping where his knot swells or tongue fucking each other’s mouths with heady little growls and grunts permeating the wet sounds of their lips. 

You whine pathetically at the barrage of sensations, your cunt tightening up as you grow impossibly close to orgasm. Price bites down hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder, just below your gland as he slams his hips up, his knot finally popping into you with a wet squelch and a deafening growl muffled and buried into your flesh.

You cum hard around his knot, milking the thick bulb of it as rope after rope of his seed fills you. Your cum, more like squirt, is met with eager whines from Ghost who struggles to lap all of it up before it drips down from your tummy to the bedsheet, earning a soft, amused huff from Gaz as he presses gentling kisses to the Lieutenant’s throat and shoulder. 

Soap’s prick twitches in your mouth, your eyes wet with tears looking up at him as he fists his own knot, cumming with just the tip past your plush lips, not wanting you to choke. He bites his lip to muffle his groan, his spend contradictorily bitter and sweet as you swallow it down with a pleased purr.

Price’s knot has barely deflated, slipping out from under you before Ghost is already knelt between your thighs, hefting your bottom half into his lap, pressing his fat cock into you, the warm cum of Price’s load making the Lieutenant moan brokenly.

Soap sidles up behind Ghost, and you can tell from the movements of his arm and the sutter of Ghost’s hips that Soap’s playing with the larger Alpha’s ass, the way you know Ghost likes. Price lifts your head to make you gulp down water before Gaz is straddling your chest, pressing his own cock past your lips. 

You realize, fucked out and pleased, that you’re in for a long, strenuous night.

War, Royalty, and The conqueror PT1

poly 141 x reader (no gender)

Summary:

Your kingdom has been invaded by the neighboring kingdom ruled by the conqueror King John Price. The king had swayed many different people to his side: a disgraced assassin who tried to murder him, a runaway mage prince of the southern kingdoms, and a barbarian who was exiled from his clan. You, along with your parents, are being brought before the king in shackles. Your future is uncertain, but it seems your parents have ulterior motives they intend to use to keep their nobility and their status in court even if that means living under a conqueror. A reader x 141 fantasy AU fanfic. 

Chapter 1: I am an heir not livestock.

WARNING CONTAINS MENTION OF WAR AND SLAVERY

Cold metal surrounds my ankles and wrists, biting into my skin, but the cold metal does little to quell the burning hot anger growing in my gut. These assholes invade our country with no warning, no reason; they didn't grant us the mercy of being able to fight back, and as I'm dragged alongside my father and mother into the throne room of the most feared man in the entire continent, I can't help but know that this could be the end of my life, my family's life, and our legacy. 

The large wooden doors of the throne room open, bringing us inside. I turn my head to see my father straining against the guard who held his arm tautly. The guard, who was tightly gripping my arm, was uncaring about my worries for my parents even as my father received a painful punch to the jaw because of his noncompliance. 

I could feel myself flinch and shiver at the violence; it was simply barbaric! The discard of thousands of years of tradition for what? Some sick conquest? My thoughts were not allowed to be voiced as my parents and I were thrown to the cold marble floor of the throne room.

I grunt at the impact, my shoulder aching in protest. I twist my head to see my parents in a similar position in front of me; my heart aches in my chest at the sight of my parents, my mentors, the ones I care about more than anything, being thrown around carelessly like toys. 

The sight made me rage internally; I know that in my current position anything that I do would just dig our graves deeper.

My mother glances behind her back, giving me a small, apologetic, wary smile that I return in kind. We might not live to see the day that these bastards die, but at least we'll die together as a family. 

“That's quite enough, thank you gentlemen.” The rough voice echoes through the vast throne room, and my head swivels towards the deep timbre of his voice.

My eyes catch the bright gleam of the twisting metal dancing around the regal throne; my teeth grit together as I meet eyes with the person sitting atop the lavish throne. 

King John fucking Price, former grand duke now king, was laid back, relaxing against the throne despite the sharp points protruding from the throne.

The rage kept bubbling in my chest. I looked to my parents, trying to offer them some semblance of comfort. We have lost, and we all know it. 

I keep my head up, daring him to look away. I may have lost my home, and I will likely lose more, but I will not lose my dignity to this tyrant. Movement in the corner of my eyes directs my attention away from the king; it was my parents. 

They were bowing their heads submissively, kneeling on the floor…

“Your majesty, please have mercy on us; we were fools; please spare us!” My father pleads with his head pressed against the floor; I watch the scene unfold with eyes wide; this wasn't real.

There had to be some manipulation, some trick committed by the king prince’s mage, to manipulate me into submission.

My eyes darted towards the mage standing arms crossed next to the king's throne.

The mage's deep brown skin complements the golden robes draped around his shoulders, the flowing fabric pulling taut around his waist by the golden belt. His hands were firmly clasped together, hidden under the flowy sleeves covering his slender arms.

There was no possible way this was an illusion. But why? I turn my head back towards my parents, my eyebrows creasing in confusion; my words catch in my throat as my father continues to plead.

“Your majesty, please have mercy, grant us mercy, allow us to keep living under your rule; we offer our heir up to you as a show of goodwill; please, your majesty, have mercy.” 

I pause my body stilling. I did not dare to breathe as I looked at my father in shock.

He was offering me up.

Selling me.

I felt my heart swim as I watched, paralyzed, as the price rose on the regal eyebrow. “Oh? And what use would your heir possibly give me?” he questions, leaning forward, resting his head on his fist.

I watch as my father stutters, fumbling for a response before sputtering a response, “Pleasure! Y-you can use them as you please, your grace! Just have mercy on me and my wife. I beg of you!” My father's words echo throughout the throne room. 

My knees are shaking; bile rises in my throat. I feel sick.

Tears well up in my eyes. I could feel my legs trembling, the world blurred around me, my breath caught in my throat.

I couldn't cry, not here, not in front of my parents…who just sold me off like livestock. I can't cry, not here. 

‘Don’t fucking cry.’ I scowl silently to myself, but the growing pain is tightening in my chest. I can't contain it, my pain, my anger, my hurt. 

A stray tear slips down my cheek, dropping down onto my worn tunic. 

“It seems your heir is quite unhappy with your proposal.” A curt, deep timber voice interrupted my thoughts, and my head snapped up, my eyes scanning for the source of the voice.

My eyes land on a shadowed figure leaning against one of the tall marble pillars that lined the outer walls of the throne room. 

The figure steps forward, and I feel my heart drop deeper into my stomach; the chalky white of a skull reflects the golden light streaming in from the large windows.

The man stepped further forward into the light, a silence of the room being broken by the thudding of boots against the marble floor as the man stepped towards the dais, the light glinting on the surfaces of the dark metal armor that encircled the man's silhouette.

He rose the dais before standing on the other side of the throne.

My heart jolted in my chest. This was no ordinary man; this was the unlikely general.

Rumors had spun that King Price had an assassination attempt sent out after him, but the assassin was captured, and instead of interrogation or execution, King Price spread the assassin and made the assassin a general in his army.

That means that this man was none other than a ghost. The man with no face. 

A deep hum rumbles from Price's throat as he considers the ghost’s words. Before speaking, the guards lining the walls of the throne room stand at attention.

“Take them to the guest wing.” Price commands after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. 

A pair of guards step towards me, their hands wrapping around my biceps as they tug me towards the door. My feet fumble beneath me, but I quickly regain my footing and begin walking. 

The two guards lead me out of the throne room down winding hallways. My hands were still restrained by the cold metal shackles as well as my ankles, every step I took making them click together. 

My mind is swirling. I was barely focused on where the guards were taking me; I'm still reeling from what my father said…

He was going to use me as a bargaining chip. His own flesh and blood. The disbelief swells up inside me.

‘No, that can't be it. Perhaps my parents think that they can regain our kingdom's freedom by doing this? That had to be it; they had to have a plan. That must be it; they're using this as an opportunity to tear down the conqueror. But…that was against the universal laws of warfare!

Why would my parents possibly do this?’ I think to myself, barely noticing the glances and stares that I'm given as servants pass by, but something catches my attention.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a large window looking out onto a vast garden decorated with many wildflowers and a grand oak tree in the middle, but what caught my attention the most was the man lying beneath the tree, a book laid across his chest as he lay…sleeping? 

The man was wearing loose pants and a leather tunic, but what was most striking about him was his hair, which was slightly bound down the middle of his scalp, the sides of his head shaven down to a light fuzz, beads intertwined into the tightly matted mohawk that split down the man's head.

The guards led me past the window towards a large set of doors where another set of guards stood at attention, ignorant of the entrance. They sidestepped hands clasping around the door handles and prying it open; before I knew it, I was being shoved forward.

I barely had the time to get my bearings before the doors slammed shut behind me. I blinked, and once again tears began to form in my eyes, reality crashing down on me harshly and swiftly. 

A sob catches itself in my throat. I was trapped. Alone in an enemy castle of the man that my parents just sold me to for…pleasure. 

A sickening feeling twists in my gut as the gates finally release themselves, and I let myself cry, my body wracked with sobs as I clutch at my arms, pulling myself into a hug as I lay on the cold wooden floor.

“How in God's name will I survive this?” I ask myself aloud as if the answer would be given to me on a silver platter. The room remains silent save for my small sniffles and choked sobs.

Before I knew it, my eyes grew heavy, and I fell into a slumber I wished I didn't wake from. 

*Feral noises*

I need more Price and sidechick!! (Also, it was amazing) -🐻✨

IM GLAD YOU LIKE IT ANON 🐻✨>O< THIS TOOK A WHILE IM SORRY, but here you go..!

part 1/3 of Sugardaddy!Price where you're just his sidechick.. 😔

or are you? *vsauce theme playing*

thanks to auntie @ahobaka-trash for beta <3

Pairing : Price x Gaz x f!Reader, implied poly141 x f!reader tw : oral sex (m receiving), foot job, dubcon, infidelity (or is it?), workplace harassment, praise kink, daddy kink word count : 6731 rated : E AO3

Between Him and Him

The night was full of passion, where pleasure was shared with every touch. Fingers intertwined on the sheet, squeezing with every collision of his hips against yours. His beard rubbed against your skin as his lips left a trail of marks down your neck. Rough fingers oh so skillfully working their magic, placed between your thighs to dance on your clit, rubbing, circling, pinching-

You shook your head and sighed shakily, scolding yourself in your head. This was no time and place to remember that. Your hands tapped your cheeks which felt warm to the touch, before looking around, hoping there were no mind-readers present.

You almost jolted when perfectly manicured nails tapped against your desk, sharp and deliberate. You looked up to find your boss’s wife staring down at you, her expression taut with barely contained anger. Swallowing hard, you quickly stood—while instinctively making yourself seem smaller in her presence. Stammering out an apology, you braced yourself as she launched into a scathing lecture on workplace etiquette.

Used to it by now, you only looked down at your heels and listened. From the very first day you started working as her husband’s secretary, she had always been hostile towards you. You never understood why until one day you overheard her accusing your boss of cheating on her with you.

You almost laughed at the time. As if you'd do something like that.

But now, an image of John Price flashed in your head. His smile, his touches.

The ring on his finger.

"Are you even listening!?" You snapped out of your thoughts at the sharp tone. 

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry.." You murmured, fingers twitching as you held back from fidgeting with your skirt.

After enduring another round of berating, you sighed in relief when you saw your boss finally emerge from his office and beckoning his wife over.

You watched as she made a public claim of her husband, kissing his cheek before clinging to his arm as they both disappeared behind the door. You saw a glimpse of her smug smirk before the door was fully closed.

You snorted.

A pause.

Then your shoulders sagged.

As you sank back into your seat, your mind raced with the thought of a similar scenario—but this time, it was John's wife who stood in her place.

Just then, your phone buzzed. As if he was summoned by your thoughts, his name appeared on the screen.

Despite getting an earful about work ethics previously, you answered the call and cradled your phone between your shoulder and ear. "Hello?"

"Hi darling, I hope I'm not bothering you" His deep voice rumbled, sending a shiver down your spine which made you feel ashamed for having such a reaction just from his voice alone.

"No sir" You responded, acting like you were taking a work-related call as your eyes focused on the documents you needed to proofread.

You heard John’s low chuckle and instinctively squeezed your thighs under the desk. "You're off work at 6 like usual?" He asked, to which you responded with a nod.

It took you a second to remember that he couldn't see you. Wow, even without him being physically present, he was still able to make you dumb.

"Yes, sir, 6.00 pm" You finally answered.

"Good" He purred. "I'll pick you up later, yeah?" He added.

"Um- ok-" you didn't manage to finish your sentence before he started speaking again. "From work, not your place"

At his words, you found yourself frowning. “Um- what do you mean?” You asked.

He never picked you up from work, you prefer that he come to your house anyway. So you’d have time to retouch your makeup and change into a more suitable outfit for the date. You didn’t like being to go out unprepared, he knew that.

“I’m taking you to my house” You heard him say.

..What?

He never took you to his place before, and you assumed it was because of the missus.

..Is this like one of those porno where he fantasized about fucking his mistress in the space he shared with his partner?

You should feel disgusted, really.. you should stop interacting with him, block him, ghost him, avoid him at all costs.

But your body betrayed that thought as you felt the heat simmering below your belly. Your face heated up in embarrassment. Ashamed.

Well, at least you were still capable of feeling shame.

“I want you to meet someone” John continued like he could read your mind.

Oh.

He probably wanted to introduce you to his wife so she could see for herself—that you were just a friend, or something, nothing more. A way to earn her trust, to ease her worries about suspicion of infidelity. You wondered if she had grown suspicious, which made him come up with such an idea.

If so, agreeing to this made you more of a bad person than you already were.

“..Okay” You responded against your better judgment.

Before he could speak again, you remembered something and spoke up again. “And oh- John..” You purred softly with the tone you used whenever you wanted something. He seemed to understand it immediately with how he let out an amused chuckle.

“Got it darling, checking out everything in your cart right away.” He uttered firmly, like a soldier following an order.

You felt giddy for being able to get a man like him wrapped around your finger.

Talked too soon.

“I’m expecting the payment first, love.. talk to you later,” He murmured seductively before hanging up.

You could only sigh and smile, and if anyone was looking at you right now, they could see red flushing your cheeks.

Looking around, you made sure no one was actually looking at you before you lifted your phone for a selfie to send him as the payment, snapping multiple pictures with the same pose and slightly different angles. You made sure the camera caught your cleavage that peeked out from your blouse, knowing how he often showed favoritism to your tits even though he worshipped every curve of your body.

You always noticed the way his pupils dilated whenever you wrapped your hands around his arm and made it rest between your breasts, the way he would casually cop a feel of your boob during cuddles, playing with them in a way that made you think you could cum from him fondling your breasts alone, the scratch of his beard as his groans were muffled when he buried his nose between the mounds, big hands squeezing them together like he wanted to suffocate himself with them, how he always need to have them in his hands whenever he pounded into you-

You let out an embarrassing yelp when you feel someone tap your shoulder.

A familiar chuckle was heard which made you look up, feeling a tad bit disappointed to see your boss instead of a certain someone who had been living in your head rent-free.

“Are you okay? Called your name a  few times there.” He said with a head tilt and that signature smirk.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry.. I was  just thinking..” You stuttered, looking down in remorse. You felt your cheeks warming up, hoping that he didn’t notice the look on your face when you were previously lost in such thoughts.

You felt his hand linger on your shoulder before he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The office light caught the glint of his wedding ring as he pulled his hand away.

He seemed to notice you glancing at it from how his lips curled in a crooked smirk. “She already left, don’t worry.” He said, amused that you didn’t seem to notice that either.

Suddenly, you understood why his wife was wary of you.

“Um, what do you need me for, sir?” You asked, trying to keep professional despite the disgust you feel. Something you never felt when you were with John, even though the older man held the same relationship status.

“The meeting,” His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing in something close to amusement. "You were supposed to remind me, I was  waiting for you."

Your stomach dropped.

Heart racing, you clicked open his schedule, scanning the time. Five minutes.

Shit.

You cursed John in your head for leaving you unable to focus properly on your job.

You stood up so quickly your chair scraped against the floor. "I’m so sorry, sir. I lost track of time—"

"I noticed."

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck. He didn’t look upset—if anything, he seemed entirely too entertained by your flustered reaction.

"It won’t happen again," you promised, already gathering your tablet and notes.

His gaze flickered over you—calm, assessing, just a little too lingering. Then, "Relax." A faint smirk. "I figured you were busy. That’s why I came looking for you."

Part of you wondered if he had waited in his office for something else to happen if you had come to him.

"Let’s go," he said, stepping aside for you to walk first.

As you did, you swore you could feel his gaze on you, feel the weight of his gaze on your ass. You held back from tugging your skirt down.

Seriously, what’s with you and married men recently..

The day went on in a drag. Usually, you had no problem zoning out as your body moved on it’s own, slipping into the routine of your job. When time slipped away from you, swallowed by emails, reports, and an endless to-do list.

But today was different. Ever since you noticed how your boss sees you in a way that he shouldn’t, you became more aware of everything. The way he purposefully brushed his hand with yours when you handed him something, how he placed his hand at the small of your back, how he not so subtly peeked down the collar of your blouse.

How come you never noticed it before?

It made you uncomfortable, overshadowing your previous anxiety at the thought of John taking you to his house.

His house, the place he lived in, with his spouse.

Come  to think of it, both situations were practically the same.

Even so, you’d rather be with John than anyone else.

You resisted letting out a sigh of relief as the clock finally hit 6 PM. Heels clacked against the pristine floor as you fast-walked back to your desk, swiftly tidying everything up.

“Need a ride?” You froze when you turned around, almost bumping into your boss looking down at you.

“Um- no sir, thank you” You responded quickly before sidestepping to walk past him.

His hand caught your arm, pulling you back towards him before smoothly slipping around your shoulders. “Come on, it’s almost getting dark out, not safe for someone like you to be out alone” He said before dragging you away to the exit.

Your stomach twisted. Refusing him outright felt impossible—he was your boss, after all. Powerful. Untouchable. And if he took offense… your job wasn’t exactly secure.

“Sir, please.. i already-” You tried to plead but then a familiar voice called out your name.

The deep, gravely voice cut through the thick tension like a knife.

As you turned your head to look, and you relaxed as the familiar figure stepped closer. John. He was dressed casually—jeans and a fitted jacket—but his stance was firm, his expression calm but unwavering.

You bit your bottom lip, God he’s so-

Your boss’s jaw tensed. “And you are?”

John barely spared him a glance. “Her boyfriend,” he said smoothly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it—subtle, dangerous. 

Blue eyes shifted to you, like he was expecting you to move to his side. So you did.

A strong arm slid around your waist.

Your heart hammered, but you nodded quickly. “Right. He’s, uh, here to pick me up.”

Your boss smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He then looked between the two of you, assessing. Eyes lingered at the ring on John’s finger, the corner of his lips twitched knowingly before he exhaled a low chuckle. “I see. Well, drive safe.”

John didn’t wait until your boss left, couldn’t care less for the retreating footsteps as he focused on you. His fingers gently held your chin, guiding your gaze away from your boss and onto him.

“You alright, luv?” he asked quietly.

You were still shaken, hands trembling as you felt your heart thumping up to your throat. You were not alright, but you nodded anyway.

He glanced down at you, giving you a once-over like he didn’t buy your response. He always had a way of reading you, picking up on what you felt without you ever needing to say a word. So he knew better than to push. With a small tilt of his head, he simply murmured. “Let's go then”

The ride to his house was quiet, safe for the soft hum of whatever was playing on the radio. Outside, the night sky loomed dark, concealing the clouds that had silently gathered. Eventually, raindrops tapped gently against the car window, their rhythmic pitter-patter lulling you into a fragile sense of ease. For a while, the silence felt almost comforting—until he finally spoke.

“How long has that been going on?” His voice was low, gentle, yet beneath it lingered an unmistakable edge. His protectiveness slipped through the cracks.

It took you a while to process his words, couldn’t think with his musk penetrating your nostrils, the warmth of his hand which rested on your thigh at the hem of your skirt, his thumb drawing small circles on your soft skin.

“I-i think.. it’s been a while” You stuttered meekly.

He scoffed. “You think?” he tutted, scolding in a playful manner. His grip on your thigh tightened briefly before easing, his thumb resuming its slow, deliberate caress.

“I-i never really paid attention..” You responded quietly, cursing your own stupidity in your head. Come to think of it, you should’ve noticed since the beginning. From the way your boss looked at you, to how his wife took a dislike in you. Yet, you’ve always brushed it off, and now you were left to face the consequences with how bold he’d become. 

“Quit your job,” He said. A demand uttered in a calm tone that was edged with steel. It carried the weight of authority, leaving no room for argument.

“W-what? i can’t just-” You cut yourself short when his blue eyes shifted to you, pinning you on the spot.

“I've told you already, you don’t need to work when you have me, sweetheart,” He said in a softer tone, the words uttered were soothing. His hand slipped higher beneath your skirt, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Well… he wasn’t wrong. He was your sugar daddy, after all. Whatever you wanted or needed, he’d provide—whether you asked for it or not. As he had been nothing less than that ever since you met him. And would continue to provide as long as you kept being his good girl. You could trust everything with him, right?

The moonlight caught the gleam of his ring, a fleeting glint in the corner of your eye.

No.

You were smart enough to not put any hope to a married man. Didn’t want to face the reality of him choosing between you and his spouse one day. You could endure everything for now, content with receiving his attention and money even though you knew it was wrong. You couldn’t help it, when somewhere along the way, you’d unintentionally started to have feelings for him.

Looking away with a pout, you responded “I’ve only worked there for three months.. it would be bad for my CV-” Your words faltered, lost in a sharp inhale as his finger went further up to trace along the edge of your panties beneath your skirt.

“Don’t test me, doll” The rumble in his tone sent a shiver down your spine.

You exhale shakily, cheeks flushed red, ashamed of your own reaction.

“A-alright, i’ll think about it..” You responded, with a voice that was too high and more shaky than you would’ve liked.

He hummed, fingertips moving to the front before squeezing your clothed clit gently between two digits. “Try again, baby”.

A whimper slipped from your lips as your thighs instinctively squeezed shut, only to draw a breathy moan when the movement only made the sensation worsen for the better.

“Y-yes, daddy..” You breathed out pathetically.

“Good girl” he responded, his eyes were now focused on the road. Though, his hand stayed between your legs.

You didn’t know what to expect when the front door opened. Maybe a sweet lady who would make you feel guilty for being a homewrecker. Or a weary, hollow-eyed woman who had long since stopped loving her husband. Perhaps even a striking, glamorous beauty—someone who only married him for the money.

Well, you certainly didn't expect to see the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He looked like he just walked out of a Vogue magazine cover.

Broad shoulders, a solid chest, and arms that looked like they could hold the weight of the world without breaking a sweat. Defined muscles, sculpted but not exaggerated, hint at power without intimidation. His skin was a warm, rich brown, smooth and sun-kissed, complementing the deep chocolate of his eyes. But it was his smile—soft, warm, teasing—that made him truly ethereal.

His gaze rested at you tenderly while you stood there, gaping like an idiot.

“You must be..” He uttered, followed by your name, his voice smooth as silk, wrapping around each syllable like a slow, deliberate caress

Damn, even his voice was sinful.

Why the fuck did John cheat on him.

“Yes, um.. that's me, yeah.” You responded dumbly, blushing even harder when you heard him and John chuckle.

What should you introduce yourself as? John didn't rehearse anything with you-

“John told me a lot about you,” He said before you could break down and tell him everything about how you had been sleeping with his husband.

“I’m Kyle, by the way” he added, extending his hand for you to shake.

You shook his hand and hoped that your palm wasn't as sweaty as you thought it was.

He didn't let go until you did. And when he did, his touch lingered.

Or perhaps it was just in your head.

The light above caught a glint of the ring on his finger. A ring similar to John’s.

You shifted your gaze away from it.

“Come in, then,” Kyle said as he stepped aside.

As you walked through the door, you saw John kissed him tenderly out of the corner of your eyes. You chose to focus on admiring the interior of the house, looking anywhere but at them.

The atmosphere inside was calm, steady, a quiet sanctuary from the rest of the world. It wasn’t extravagant or overly decorated, but it still felt homey.

Made you feel like an intruder.

“John said you like pasta,” You sensed Kyle’s presence beside you which took you by surprise. His hand was placed at the small of your back as he escorted you to the kitchen.

The touch felt more intimate than it should. But you were too confused by everything to think much of it.

The dining table was set with effortless charm, set with care but without unnecessary formality. Multiple plates of steaming truffle pasta were arranged neatly; the rich, earthy aroma wafting through the air.

You were still trying to figure out what was happening. For what reason did John invite you here, what kind of stuff had he told his husband about you.

From what you were seeing, you could assume that this was a casual dinner. It also seemed that John had been talking about you to Kyle a lot, but why? Wouldn't it make Kyle suspicious? Maybe that was why John invited you over, to get Kyle to lower his guard by knowing you, your previous theory might be correct. But the way Kyle acted towards you was odd, there was no hint of jealousy in his eyes. If anything, he greeted you way too nicely than he should-

Everything was too confusing, you should just stop thinking.

“Oh- sorry, i didn't bring anything-” You replied as you looked up at Kyle with wide eyes.

Kyle exhaled an amused chuckle as he pulled out a chair for you to sit. “Why do you need to bring anything?” He responded with a teasing tone.

“Well.. um.. to be polite..?” You said after you sat, voice becoming quieter at the end of your sentence. Two pairs of eyes locked onto you, making you fidget in your seat.

“Cute.” Kyle simply said with a smile.

John smiled and reached out to caress your legs beneath the table as a gesture to calm you down.

A simple touch that sent heat rushing through you, the impropriety of doing it discreetly in front of his husband only making it more titillating.

You chose to shift your focus to the plate in front of you as you tried to keep calm, playing the role of a ‘friend’ or whatever John had told Kyle about you.

The dinner went better than you thought it would. At least on the surface, with how the two men seemed to be treating you kindly, even if on the inside, you felt like a sinner at the church.

You expected Kyle to ask more about you, but that didn't happen. It was like he knew about you already, asking you about your job and things that had been going on in your life like he was catching up with some old friend instead of talking with his husband’s mistress, even though he probably didn't know about that. 

But even with how welcoming Kyle was, and how John was kind to you like he usually was, you still felt like an outsider. You couldn't help but notice how John always reached out to touch Kyle, whether to pass something or just a gesture he did when he talked. While Kyle looked at John like he hung the moon, smiling with each word uttered by the older man.

They made sure to include you in the conversation, but you couldn't help but be reminded of your position.

They were married, bound together by vows, the promise of forever, witnessed by the weight of rings on each other's fingers. 

While you were..

A temporary pleasure, a pretty thing to warm John’s bed. A secret folded between late-night pleasure and stolen hours, never meant to see the light of day. He whispered sweet nothings, traced promises on your skin with the same lips that uttered his wedding vows.

You knew it, deep down. You were excited, the rush of something forbidden, the fire that burned bright but was never meant to last.

Then, your mind reeled back to the questions you had in your head ever since John said he wanted to invite you over. You still weren't sure of the reason, as you could only assume.

What was his reason? Was it really to convince Kyle that you were nothing to worry about? Or was it to show you that you were truly nothing to him.

Kyle laughed at a particularly awful dad joke John made, while you sat there in silence, lost in the whirlwind of thoughts crowding your mind.

Thoughts that gave you a headache.

And heartache.

You weren’t possessive of John like he was with you. But you were jealous—not of Kyle, but of what they had. Pushing aside John’s infidelity, you longed for what you were seeing right now.

Your eyes drifted to the rings on their fingers, and felt the lack of weight on your own.

You were a nobody.

“Sorry, i need to use the bathroom,” You stood up a bit too quickly, causing the chair to scrape against the floor with a sharp noise.

You winced. Both at the sound, and the way your heart clenched. No, don't cry. Not right now. Not in front of them.

“Come, i’ll show you where it is,” Kyle replied with a kind smile that sent a pang to your heart.

“I’ll clean these up,” John said as he stood and collected the dishes. He then walked around to give Kyle a peck on his lips before he headed to the kitchen.

With barely a glance towards you.

It was for the better, you thought. So his husband wouldn't suspect a thing, so you wouldn't get your hopes up.

“This way,” You heard Kyle say, standing nearby as he gestured to the hallway.

You could only smile and nod in response before you headed your way.

Lost in your thoughts, about what would happen after, what should happen after. 

Should you put an end to this? Stop wrecking the happiness you just witnessed from the sidelines. The rational part of you said, yeah. But your heart was already attached to John.

Thought after thought occupied your mind as you walked down the hall and into the bathroom before heading for the sink to clear your mind.

Too lost in your head to notice footsteps following you from behind.

A presence followed you in, locking the door behind.

At the sound of the click, you looked up, only to catch Kyle's reflection in the mirror as he approached from behind.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, chin on your shoulder with his cheek pressing against yours. 

And you froze, couldn't speak, stopped thinking.

“What’s with the pout?” He cooed with a disarming smile that made his eyes squint. His hand reached up to tug on your lower lip with his thumb.

“W-what?” You managed to break out of your shock with an embarrassing squeak.

His chest rumbled against your back as he chuckled in response.

“I was hoping to see this cute smile in person,” He continued as he pulled out a phone from his pants, showing you the pictures you took this morning, an innocent selfie–safe for the cleavage peeking out the collar of your blouse. The one you sent John.

That phone.. John’s phone.

You felt your heart drop, colors drained from your face.

“..You knew” you stammered.

And before he could say anything, you started to blabber. “I-i’m sorry.. sorry i’m- i know i shouldn't- i know it’s wrong”.

Your eyes teared up as the grip around your waist tightened. And you were reminded that the person behind you was a strong man who could snap you in half if he wanted to.

“Hey.. ssh..” his voice was soothing you as he turned you around, one hand rested on the sink beside you as the other went up to wipe your tears.

No hint of anger in his tone, just a tinge of amusement.

A thumb pressed against your lips to stop you from apologizing. “You're sorry..?” He asked with a tilt of his head, smirk on his lips.

You nodded shakily, holding back a whimper when he leaned closer.

Firm lips pressing against your trembling one, his hand cupped your cheek to keep you still. Not that it was needed with the way you froze.

Eyes wide as you could only stand there and let him savor your lips.

It was gentle, soft, almost.. sweet. Yet, you were left breathless when he broke the kiss.

He didn't back off all the way, pressing his nose against yours. His warm gaze locked onto you as he slowly licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste of you.

And your eyes couldn't help but follow the movement of his tongue.

Whatever thoughts that bothered you before were now thrown out of the window.

“Hmm.. prove it then,” he purred, warm breath caressed your lips as the timbre of his voice went straight to your core.

Your cheeks felt too warm for your liking. “..What?”.

His hand went down, but your eyes stayed locked to his. Even when you heard the familiar smooth whirr of metal teeth separating, accompanied by a faint rasp of fabric shifting.

“I said prove it, baby,” he murmured as he pulled back only to push you down on your knees by your shoulder.

One hand caressed your cheek, while the other held the base of his hardening cock in front of you, tapping the tip against your lips.

You jolted instinctively. Wet lashes fluttered as your doe eyes widened, looking up to meet his. That same charming smile from when he first greeted you lingered on his lips—but now, it carried a different weight. His pupils, blown wide with something else, sent a message that made you hold your breath.

“I’d call John over, but I'd rather have you to myself right now,” he purred as he pressed the tip of his cock between your lips, rubbing but not pushing any further.

..What is going on?

John would definitely notice both of your prolonged absences, he would eventually search for you- for Kyle-

This is wrong on so many levels, being in this position with your.. sugar-daddy’s husband, someone who should have despised you when he found out about your status as the mistress.

Push him away. Your conscience whispered.

But.. 

You had already become a willing participant in something scandalous from the moment you met John. Did you even have the right to weigh morality now, when the lines between right and wrong had long since blurred?

And who were you to refuse a command from such a fine man standing before you?

Your doe-like eyes trailed up his figure, taking in the lean muscles wrapped in a tight shirt, the faint happy trail leading downward, the sharp cut of his jaw, and that devilish smile playing at his lips.

Saliva pooled in your mouth, a drop slipped out the side and dripped down your chin as you parted your lips to suckle on the tip of his cock shyly.

“I know you could do better than that..” he murmured. Fingers pressed against your jaw, thumb and forefinger applying just enough pressure to part your lips. A slow, deliberate motion—prying them open with ease.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he eased in, inch by inch, stretching the warmth of your mouth.

He was gentle, pushing but not forcing. Giving you an illusion of control when you both knew who was truly in charge. Contrasting with John, who always made it clear from the start that he would break you apart, but also familiar in a way that they both intended to make a mess out of you.

Oh god.. John.

He was outside this bathroom, probably somewhere nearby. It should scared you, the fact that he might come knocking at the door only to find his side chick sucking on his husband's dick.

But..

You were too occupied to worry about that right now.

“That’s it.. good girl..” He cooed when you were an inch away from taking all of him. The praise sent a slow, simmering heat, curling deep in your core, you could feel yourself being embarrassingly wet just from having his cock in your mouth.

His fingers caressed your cheek down to your jaw, a small gesture of commendation that made you long for more. Wanted him to tell you how good you were for him, to have those long fingers caress your scalp as you pleasure him.

So you loosened your jaw further, letting your throat relax before pushing forward until your nose was nestled against the neatly trimmed curls at the base.

You preened when you heard him groan.

“Attagirl baby..” he rasped as he patted your head, an innocent gesture that made you shiver.

You wanted more of that, wanted him to praise you more, to be a good girl for him so he would reward you. 

His hand rested atop your head—not gripping, pulling, or pushing. A silent command lingered in the touch, a wordless expectation for you to do your job while he watched.

And you obeyed.

Slurping up the precum and saliva that slicked his length, your tongue glided along each pulsing vein, tracing every ridge as you slowly pulled back. When you withdrew, you extended your tongue further, the pointed tip teasing over his frenulum with deliberate precision. Wide, doe-like eyes gazed up at him, making you look so utterly docile—obedient and eager to please, silently pleading for more praise.

And it was so nice of him to give it to you.

“Look at you, so pretty taking my cock like that.. you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? don’t worry baby, i’ll give you more.. just keep going.. oh.. that’s it..” He kept uttering praises that made you moan softly around his cock.

Leaning back in, your eyes fluttered to a shut as you focused entirely on his pleasure—willing to give your all if it meant earning more of those sweet praises.

But then, he gripped your hair and tugged you away, making you let go of him with a lewd pop as you whined.

“None of that, baby. Keep those pretty eyes open,” He scolded. His tone was gentle, yet the commanding words made you instinctively straighten your spine, nodding in quiet obedience.

He smiled before loosening his grip and let you continue.

With his words in mind, you kept your gaze locked onto his, never looking away as you worked to please him with your mouth.

Slurping, sucking, licking, swallow. Memorizing each twitch and breath, making  mental note of any precise movements that pulled those deep, satisfied groans from his lips.

Relishing every praise uttered between the sound of pleasure.

Soon enough, you quickened your pace, bobbing your head fast the moment you felt him twitch. Desperate to coax him over the edge and feel him shooting his load down your throat.

With every nudge of his cock against the back of your throat, your pussy clenched. And you shifted on your knees, pressing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to quell the heat simmering between them.

And how kind of him to notice—even more so when he lifted his leg, tilting his ankle just enough to press the arch of his foot firmly against your aching heat.

An embarrassing whine muffled by his cock as he moved his foot side to side, rubbing your sensitive clit. Your eyes rolled back when he pressed his foot further up to press against your cunt before dragging it back and forth. Giving you a slow, torturous sensation that got you dripping.

Hands gripped his pants as your hips rolled against the slope of his foot to chase the pleasure.

It was embarrassing, to get yourself off of someone’s foot. But you were desperate, squeezing your legs together to trap him there as you continued to grind. Pathetic whines and moans slipped from your lips every time your clit caught on your underwear, or when you ground your hips down just right.

But then, he pulled his foot away and you almost sobbed at the sudden loss.

“Ah ah, don’t get distracted..” He tutted, hand reaching up to push your hair out of your face before trailing down to your lips which were still wrapped around his cock.

You bat your eyelashes at him, a pitiful muffled whimper slipped past your lips in a feeble attempt at an apology. Feeling sorry for getting temporarily lost in chasing your own pleasure that you forgot about his.

His smile widened in response as he trailed his fingers down to your jaw, a gesture that commanded you to continue the previous ministration.

As you started moving your head again, he put his foot back between your legs to rub against your clothed cunt.

With your hips grinding down at the same pace as your head, you tried your best to split your focus. But it was getting harder and harder with how he moved his foot like so- rubbing and pressing your clit as the slope dragged itself back and forth against your throbbing pussy, teasing between your folds.

You worked your mouth on him as you kept trying to build up the heat that intensified in your core. Doing both simultaneously as you were afraid he might rip the sensation away if you didn't satisfy him enough, just like before.

“You close yet, baby?” His voice purred as he moved his foot against you some more.

A squeak escaped your lips as a thrill shot up your spine. Your nails dug into his hips as you ground your pussy against him, hard.

And then you felt him moving his foot to the side, tugging the edge of your panties to push it aside before grinding directly against your bare cunt. Then, you felt the tip of his toes pressing against the entrance which became the final push that sent you over the edge.

You moaned wantonly around his cock as your legs buckled. Gasping through your nose as you struggled to breathe with him deep in your throat. Unable to keep up with the waves of pleasure that hit you.

A distant echo of Kyle’s voice was heard behind the blood rushing through your ears.

“That's it..” He praised.

You slurped around his cock as you kept moving your head.

“Making a mess of yourself..” he continued in a seductive whisper.

You swallowed with him deep in your throat, making him twitch as he groaned.

“Good fucking girl..” He grunted as he put one hand against your throat, cradling in a way like you were nothing more than submissive.

Spit inevitably coated the underside of your chin, lining the ridges of your throat.

Then, his head hung back, relishing the sensation as he teetered over the edge. His cock throbbed with the intense release, shooting thick ropes of white down your throat.

Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they clung to your lashes. But you couldn't pull away with his hand keeping your head still, making you take every drop of his cum.

“Take it all, doll.. but don't swallow,” he commanded with that smooth voice of his, which was way more soothing than it should be.

And you obeyed.

Pliant when he finally pulled your head back until his softening cock slipped out your lips with a wet, obscene pop.

You let him tilt your head up before prying your mouth open. Your gaze, glazed and unfocused as he drank in your wrecked state.

On your knees, basking in the afterglow after getting off on a man’s foot, saliva and cum trailing down your chin.

Then, he spit into your mouth.

“Swallow”.

And just like before, you obeyed.

If you didn't feel dirty being his husband's mistress, you sure did now.

Again, what's with you and married men recently.

The door clicked shut, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

Kyle couldn't help but chuckle at the fresh memory of your face in his mind. And while he wanted nothing more than to be by your side, you wouldn't let him.

And since he was in a good mood (thanks to you), he decided to indulge, letting you be when he noticed how flustered you were—too overwhelmed to bear another second in his presence.

So when you pushed him out, he left and let you clean yourself alone in the bathroom, letting you gather your thoughts.

“How was it?” He heard John speak from where the older man sat on the couch.

“Better than it should, if i say so myself,” Kyle approached and gave him a quick peck before taking a seat beside him. “I was just going to talk to her, but.. i couldn't hold myself back.”

Before John could respond, a continuous buzz was heard.

Kyle pulled out his phone and accepted the call before putting it on speaker mode.

“Fuck ye, should’ve said somethin’ about the lass comin’ o’er.” Thick scottish accent came through the speaker.

John chuckled at the complaints. “Don't want to overwhelm her yet, Mactavish."

“Ya fuckin' dobber- Come on, Simon! Hit the fucking gas. We’re headin’ back home whether they like it or not,” His yelling rang loudly through the line, even if it was directed at someone from his side.

Looks like the other two were ending their date early.

open taglist : @skeletonsucker, @niazrzl, @iiriam, @katerinaval, @chickennn-soupp, @massivescissorsthingperson, @dreamland08, @massivescissorsthingperson, @brittney-121, @kukavittu, @noheadcanons-juststories, @z-wantstowrite, @uraeus56, @tellme-im-pretty, @prettygirleevee, @pisiksukedk, @nathanmcr

Next (soon)

I genuinely can’t believe there’s a fic of senshi eating pussy when he’d want HIS pussy eaten

Strong body bent in half, thighs easily parting to allow you access to his cunt, the smell of musk and sweat hitting you as you inch closer to the spot between his legs, laying so close you can see each individual pubic hair poking through the thin clothing he’s wearing, can even taste the salty taste just by looking at the dark spot on the light fabric.

You don’t even bother taking off his underwear as you lap at his cunt and suck his clit, hearing the obscene squelching sound mingling with whines and whimpers that escape his lips, and watching as the thin fabric gets soaked in your spit, before getting practically swallowed by his fat pussy lips.

Thinking about the sweet gasps and squeaks that escape his lips, the way chubby hands aimlessly grasp at the air as you bury your tongue inside him, hips erratically bucking up as you work your tongue into him the way you would with your cock.

Thinking about making him cum over and over, having him flush red from head to toe, thighs practically shaking from overstimulation but refusing to let up his grip on you, forcing you to eat him out til you’re on the verge of passing out.

Can’t stop thinking about poly141 who get so wrapped up in their own bullshit they begin to neglect reader. So you leave 🤷🏼‍♀️

It wasn’t a big deal at first. You understood that their jobs were intense to say the least. You own a bookshop, which in itself was exhausting, but you understood how they could get carried away with work.

You had excused the many delayed returned texts or missed FaceTime dates when they were deployed. When they came home, they almost always made it up to you. Showering you with attention and quality time.

But the past two returns home have been… different.

Usually at least one of them made a beeline to your shop or your loft if it was too late in the evening. You always held your breath when it was just one of them.

“They’re okay.” Was the usual answer. “Everyone made it back okay.” It was only then that you could melt into whoever’s hands you were in.

After one of their recent returns home you had voice to Price that you didn’t appreciate several days passing after they came back and no one had bothered to tell you. He had snapped. Arguing that a mission doesn’t finish just because they land back on soil. There was paperwork and debriefing to be done. If and when they wanted to see you they would.

He didn’t apologize until later. Crawling into your bed, using one of the keys you had given them. Blaming the stress. How they had almost lost Johnny for the reason of his outburst. What else could you do but forgive him?

So you had given them space after that one. Not holding it against them to decompress before seeing you.

The next time was the final straw. Solidifying how little they cared about you and how much power you had given them.

Johnny had come in around 7 one evening. He was dressed nicely, for civilian standards. You were reading a book on the couch when he had let himself in. You were wearing on of Simon’s sweatshirts and panties. He took you in for a moment before scooping you up.

He fucked you absolutely stupid. Adamant on having you cum on his tongue, his fingers and his cock. You were only able to bask in the afterglow of him filling you up before he started pulling his pants back on.

“What are you doing?” There were times that you would practically need a crow bar to get Johnny detached from you just long enough to relieve yourself. You had gotten many a UTI courtesy of Mr. John MacTavish.

“Dinner with my family tonight.” He explained by the time he was already buttoning his shirt. “The youngest just graduated and ma’ feels the need to go all out.” Now came the tie. Johnny was actually wearing a tie. To go to dinner. “A fancy dinner in London.” He huffed. “Meanwhile I’m out scufflin’ with bloody fuckin’ terrorists and I get a pat on the back.” He gave you a peck on the cheek before heading out the door. Promising to call you later.

You just sat in your bed. Still naked. Almost in shocked. He had fucked you and just… left. You were close to a panic attack as you called Simon.

Simon wasn’t the one to cuddle and coddle. But there was something so soothing at the sound of his voice or even how his heavy body felt perfect laying on top of you. Yes. Simon wasn’t the time to lift you up with words, but he was your own security blanket. Just having him close helped.

“Can you come over?” It wasn't unusal for Simon to be the one to come later in the evening. Insomnia was a bitch to deal with and you could sleep through the sounds of whatever he played on the tv. Most of the times you were content laying your head on his lap as he ran his hand along your head as if he were petting you. It was a bit cringe, but it knocked you out every time.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. The low timber of his voice already calming you.

“Johnny came over.” You sniffled. “He just fucked me and left.”

“Not surprised.” He scoffed. You could almost see him rolling those deep brown eyes of his. “If you wanted to cum, I’m happy to come over and help.”

For whatever reason, that only seemed to make you more upset. “You’re not listening.” You said, trying to spell it out for him. “He left. Like didn’t even stay and cuddle just left. Fucked me and left.”

“That’s why you’re calling me crying about?” He almost seemed… annoyed.

“Yes!” You said, nearly snapping. All of the tension from the last several months coming to the surface. “I’m not just a warm body to keep a bed cozy until you assholes decide you need to get one off.” Assholes. You called them assholes. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”

“Johnny is Johnny.” Simon tried to defend, not really caring to continue the conversation now knowing that you weren't in any sort of physical harm. “He wanted his dick wet and from the sound of it, that’s what he did. Don’t hold it against him because he had other things to do.”

“It’s not just Johnny leaving.” Your throat felt like it was tightening. A telltale sign you were close to crying. Whether from sadness or anger you weren't entirely sure. “The only time any of you want anything to do with me anymore is to fuck.” You missed date nights and lunches. You missed texting any and all of them about your day, about theirs. About new books. You had been trying for months to tell them over dinner one of your books got picked up. Yours was being traditionally published.

None of them had bothered to even try penciling you in.

“You got yours.” You heard the popping of a can top. Simon was settling in for the night. Once he popped a top at home there was no getting him out. He wasn't coming for you. “I don’t understand what you’re bitchin’ to me about. Yeah, in the beginning we indulged ya a bit? Dressed you up, took you out. But you should have known spreadin’ them legs of yours wouldn’t end with one of us puttin’ a ring on your finger.”

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? These were the men that pursued you. Initially, individually, but when tensions became to much they offered a solution. All of them. Four times the attention, of the affection.

Four times the love.

But also four time the neglect. Four times the amount of heartbreak and disappointment. Loving all of them meant putting yourself in a position to let each of them hurt you in their own way and they had.

John's constant state of snapping at you as if you were one of his men.

Johnny swinging by as if you were just a fuck buddy. Not even bothering to give a peck before leaving.

Kyle essentially ignoring you for weeks now. Ghosting you for hours or having to cancel on date nights last minute or claiming that he really did forget that the two of you had planned to meet for lunch.

And now there was Simon. Telling you that all you meant to them was what was between your thighs.

Spreadin' them legs of yours wouldn't end with one of us puttin' a ring on your finger.

None of them ever intended on making this into something more. That much was clear now.

You didn't know what to say to Simon. You couldn't think of a witty retort. You couldn't find the proper insult to whirl his way. You couldn't convey just how much his words had hurt.

So you did the only thing you could.

You hung up.