Mmichog

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

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

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

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

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That should be it.

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have tougher targets to tackle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kid–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

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

“No!” You blurt.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.” 

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

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well. Okay, then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You squeak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you’ve a moment, love?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.” You mumble. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miss Possessive (Luke Hughes)

Warning(s): jealousy, light smut, swearing, little angst, spitting

Summary: Y/N isn't usually one to get protective over her boyfriend... but when one girl who acts like her friend pushes things a liiiittle over the edge, she shows why she shouldn't be one to mess with

BABY BLUES, UNDRESSING HIM. FUNNY HOW YOU THINK THAT I DON'T NOTICE IT

ACTING LIKE WE'RE FRIENDS, WE'RE THE OPPOSITE

"I'm back and I brought the good stuff!" Jack shouts over the loud music, holding a tray filled with everyone's drinks.

Luke lets go of Y/N's waist for a second, reaching over to grab both his and her drinks. She smiles warmly up at her boyfriend as he hands her the cool glass, the pair immediately turning their attention back to Nico's story he was telling about Monday's practice mayhem.

The girl tried to keep her attention on the story, peeking around every so often to check to see if her friends had arrived yet.

Her eyes lit up as she let out an excited and buzzed squeal, seeing the three girls rushing their way over to their group in the busy club crowd. "My girls!" she shouts out, leaving Luke's hold to go embrace them all.

"Finally, the party can start! I've only been looking forward to this all weekend," her friend, Maya, says as she snags the drink from Jack's hands as he is about to sip it. He rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in defeat.

"Maya's here everyone!" he sarcastically announces, earning a smack to his chest. Y/N laughs while pulling away from hugging her other friend, Peyton. They all watch the pair bicker per usual, knowing they'd end up in his bed by the end of the night.

As she goes to embrace and greet Mary, she notices her staring over her shoulder with a certain look in her eyes.

Y/N's eyes follow her stare, turning behind her to see exactly where her eyes were met. Which were staring right at Luke, who at the time was sitting on the couch with his legs spread, drink in hand while the other arm lay across the top of the couch as he conversed with one of the boys.

Y/N squints her eyes in a knowing manner, poking the inside of her cheek with her tongue. She looks back at Mary with a smirk, clearing her throat to catch the girl's attention.

Mary's eye snap out of their daze, putting a fake smile on and squealing while pulling Y/N in for a hug. "I've missed you oh my gosh!" she says, Y/N just humming in response.

They pull apart quickly after, Mary squeezing past her to slyly take a seat next to Luke. Luke looks over at Mary, his face dropping when he notices it isn't his girl. He puts on a fake smile and greets Mary, immediately pulling his arm away that sat on the top of the couch and puts it in his lap.

Y/N rolls her eyes, downing the rest of her drink before looking over at Peyton who is talking with Ethan.

She goes up and wraps her arm around Peyton, smiling graciously when the girl looks over at her. "How about we go get some more drinks?"

I'LL BE NICE, UP UNTIL I'M NOT. I'M TELLING YOU , YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE 1 A.M. SIDE OF ME

WHEN I'M TWO DRINKS IN AND YOU JUST CAN'T LEAVE ME AND MY MAN ALONE

Y/N thanks the bartender as she grabs her third drink of the night, feeling more tipsy as the prior shots began to hit. She began to make her way back to her group, seeing as they're all dancing to the flow of the music booming through the club.

Peyton sees her coming over, holding her hand out to make Y/N spin around in a twirl while bopping to the song playing, taking a sip of her drink.

She sees her tall pretty boyfriend, heading his way. Once she is close to him, she wraps her free hand around his back while sipping and nodding along to the song. He looks down and finds her eyes, letting a light smile form on his lips before pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"You add it to my tab?" he asks over the loud music, his lips barely touching her ear, but enough to send chills down her spine. She nods, swaying her hips around.

Luke places her in front of him before continuing his conversation with Nico next to him, his hands roaming the sides of her body as he let her dance in front of him. She sang aloud with the girls, letting Maya dance her way over and take Y/N's hands to have her join her girls.

They danced together, sometimes dancing on one another or next to each other while singing the lyrics out loud. Y/N could feel the alcohol buzzing through her bloodstream, letting her hands run freely up and down her body, then along Maya's whom began dancing against Y/N's front.

She let her eyes close and her head fall back with a laugh as her friends began to grind against her, happily playing along. She ten snapped out of it when she feels a squeeze on her arm, seeing Peyton point towards where their group is standing.

Y/N's face falters, a knowing look spreading across her face as she watched Mary try to have Luke dance with her. She could see the disinterest in his face as she would hang on him and take his hand to act if he was trying to spin her around.

"She needs to learn her place," Peyton says over the music and Maya agreeing before they both try to make their way over, only to be pulled back from Y/N.

She just smirked at the girls. "You guys keep dancing with your boys, I'll be back." is all she says before leaving, and walking towards the group.

Luke must've felt her stare, because his eyes find hers and he looks more annoyed than scared. She could see the pleading in his eyes to help, and she just keeps her stare on him as she walks over.

Once Y/N makes it in front of him, Mary immediately looks at her with a fake smile. "Oh my gosh I was starting to worry where you went! Figured I'd keep him company for you!" she says so innocently, Y/N just rolls her eyes and looks up at Luke.

She immediately lets her hands trail up his own hands and to his forearms, slowly backing towards the dance floor as he slowly follows her.

His eyes never left hers, as if he was in some sort of trance. The only time it broke was when she turned away from him, only to lead him through the crowd and towards her friends that were getting close on the floor with their men.

She halts when she's where she wants to be, immediately taking his hands, one hand empty and one holding his almost empty drink, wrapping them around her front. He lets his head lower towards her neck, close to the soft spot behind her ear. Chills forming along her skin.

Y/N can feel the smirk that comes onto his face, letting his lips meet the soft spot, she slowly begins to sway against him. She lets her body roll back into his, following the music and the flow it gives, hearing sighs leave his lips as she moves.

Her hands leave his as they sat lowly on her hips as he was leading them to roll back against him, her hands trailing up her own body before they fly back behind her.

She lets them grip onto the back of his neck where his curls poked out from his backwards hat, earning a groan from her in the process.

"You are trouble." Luke chuckles.

The pair rolled against each other as if it was just them, her blood pumping through her ears. She felt herself weaken when he let one of his hands trail up from her hips, up her stomach, making sure to take his time caressing her breasts before it finally made its way to her neck. At first he let it sit there, but then he tightened his grip and pulled her straight back against him.

She lets out a breathless laugh, biting her lips to keep from a full out smile forming onto her lips. She is snapped out of her trance when she feels someone bump into them a few times, looking over to see Mary grinding up against someone herself, her eyes looking at Luke's the entire time.

But her eyes narrow as she realizes that Luke is so entranced by Y/N to notice her. Mary then sees Y/N's caught her, soon trying to act as if she wasn't just trying to make Luke to jealous.

Y/N just rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the said girl who is trying to hard for a man who is taken.

Look at the floor or ceiling, or anyone else you're feelin

Take home whoever walks in, just keep your eyes off him

The boys all went and sat down for a break, Y/N and her girls all going to get refills on their drinks.

Y/N was beyond annoyed.

She didn't know what else she had to do to get Mary off of Luke, or away from him.

"Girl how have you not put your hands on her yet? I would've when thought it was okay to try and steal Luke while y'all were dancing." Peyton says, thanking the Bartender.

"I don't fucking know," Y/N scoffs with an amused smirk. "She's insufferable. It's not like I don't trust him because I can tell he is just as annoyed. She just can't take no or take a hint."

"If she were all over Jack, I'd be dragging her out by her long ass fake lashes." Maya says, making the girls laugh as they all sipped on their drinks.

"You may just have to fuck him in front of her to get her to leave y'all be," Peyton shrugs, making Y/N almost spit her drink out.

"You're unbelievable!" Maya laughs loudly, playfully pushing Peyton.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head as she laughs, her face heating up from the comment made. "I can't stand her. She doesn't know how to keep her hands or eyes off of him."

Maya nods and points towards their group. "Especially now."

Y/N looks behind her and towards where Maya is pointing, her joking demeanor falling from her face.

Mary was slyly sitting so close to Luke that she was basically almost on his lap, her legs dangling over his thighs, seeing Luke shrug them off as her face leans against his shoulder.

"If you don't drag her out of here, I fucking will." Peyton says.

Y/N turns back around and downs her drink, asking the bartender for a lemon drop shot. "Girl I don't think another shot is the answer right now. She is basically trying to kiss up on your man right now." Maya says, her eyes staying behind them and staring at Mary and Luke.

"Trust me if there's anything that's going to get Luke going," she thanks the bartender for the shot, and hold it up. "It's this."

"What's a lemon drop shot gonna do?"

"You remember the first night we went out to a party together at the Michigan Hockey house?"

"The night where he basically fucked you on the beer pong table?"

"it's because of the one thing I did that got his jealous ass to catch a hint."

Maya raised a brow. "I'm so confused."

Peyton cut in. "She shotgunned a shot into his mouth while everyone watched."

Maya's eyes widened. "Oh he ate that shit up, I remember that clearly now that you say it."

Y/N nods. "Exactly. Just watch how Miss Possessive works." She takes the shot with her, walling back to their section, watching as Luke shrugs Mary off for the fiftieth time of the night.

Y/N's eyes caught Luke's, the complete relief he felt seeing her face making itself closer to him made him feel loads better.

He saw her holding a small glass in her hand, her eyes leaving his to look at Mary. The girl was watching as she threw a leg over his lap so she sat with them on both sides while facing him. His hands immediately coming to rub alongside her thighs.

"I've never been more happy to see you," he says as he blows out a breath. Her eyes still were looking at Mary, keeping the eye contact as she downs the shot and sets the glass behind her.

That's when Y/N's eyes find Luke's, he sees that she didn't swallow the shot and held it in her mouth. "You good baby?" he asks, his hands rubbing his thighs under her dress.

She says nothing, her hands coming up to lean his head back fully. She takes one of her thumbs and presses it against his bottom lip to have him his mouth, her own head leaning down and over his.

Y/N had one hand resting on the front of his neck, feeling his Adams apple bob, while her other hand sat against his jawline with her thumb pulling his bottom lip down to open his mouth fully.

Luke's eyes became lidded, his pants becoming tighter as he knew what was coming next. Y/N puckered her lips, spitting the shot slowly from her mouth and pour into his own mouth. Once it all emptied into his mouth, Luke watched her bite her bottom lip as she took her thumb and pushed his mouth closed slowly.

"Swallow baby" she says lowly, making his face heat up and listen to her orders. He watched as a drop fell down from her bottom lip, his pants feeling tighter than they have been.

Y/N snaps out of her gaze with Luke, her eyes snapping towards Mary whom looked embarrassed and avoided the pair.

"Damn where can I get me a Y/N?" Nico shouts playfully, earning a chuckle from Y/N.

"Very funny," she says, going to stand from his lap, but is stopped as Luke's hands place a harsher grip on her hips. Her eyes fall back towards the boy, who still has his head back against the couch top and his eyes closed.

"Don't move right now," he says, earning a smirk from Y/N.

"You alright honey?" she jokes, watching him huff out a breath.

Before she knows what's happening, he's sitting up, then stands with her still in his grip. his hands traveling to her ass as he adjusts her. She wraps her legs around his torso, the boys all looking at him with amusement on their faces.

"We're heading out a bit early," Luke says to the boys. "Not feeling too well."

"Yeah I'm sure that's what it is." Jack calls out. Luke squints his eyes at his brother, his eyes looking over at Mary who is looking at Y/N with so much envy and jealousy. So he thought why not add fuel to the fire?

Luke's eyes find his brother's once again. "Fine. I'm turned on, and I'm taking my girl home. Might fuck in the car too. Who knows." Luke says, making Y/N's toes curl at his words.

Jack's eyes widen as Luke smirks, walking away from the crowd yelling out a 'goodnight' as they disappear to exit the club.

"You are a troublemaker, love." Luke says as they make it down the sidewalk.

"Needed to show you're mine." she says, placing kisses down his neck as she grips his curls.

Luke groans, his hands gripping her ass harshly in which causes her to moan against his skin. "You sure are miss possessive huh?"

Y/N's face leave his neck to look up at him with the eyes she knows always make him go crazy. "So what if I am, baby?" she says lowly, his eyes dart from her lips to her eyes multiple times, biting his lip as he smirked.

"Yeah we're not making it down the road before I fuck you in this car."

Inked- Ellie Williams

❥Pairing: Ellie Williams x AFAB!Reader

❥Summary: Ellie gets a stomach tattoo and then fucks you in a public washroom

❥CW: 18+ smut, oral sex (reader receiving), semi-public sex. 1.3k words

❥a/n: NOT PROOFREAD! I lowkey hate this and might edit later but here's the long awaited fic that I took way too long to post lol. Sorry if the formatting is weird- i'm posting from my phone. Hope u enjoy!

The tattoo parlour was a blend of buzzing needles and low conversations, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic and ink. You walked in with Ellie, walking close behind her as you looked around. You had been best friends for years, sharing countless memories and adventures, and today was about to add another chapter.

Ellie was finally getting the stomach tattoo she'd talked about for months, and you were there for moral support, as always. The artist greeted you with a nod, already prepping his station.

Ellie seemed calm, but you could sense the underlying nerves. As she lay back in the chair, your hands instinctively reached out to give her hand a squeeze.

Ellie lifted up her shirt and pulled the waistband of her jeans down slightly, exposing the canvas of her skin. Your eyes trailed over her exposed skin, lingering on the slight v-line that disappeared beneath her pants. You felt a rush of warmth to your cheeks and quickly looked away, hoping Ellie didn't notice.

The session began, the buzz of the needle filling the room. You watched as the artist skillfully worked on Ellie’s skin, the blank ink slowly forming intricate patterns. You tried to focus on the tatto, but your eyes kept drifting back to Ellie's exposed skin, the taut muscles of her abdomen, the soft curve of her hips.

Ellie winced occasionally, her grip on your hand tightening. Each time you offered a reassuring smile, but inside you were battling your own desires. The way her body reacted to the pain, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath as her teeth worried her bottom lip–it was all too much.

You found your mind wandering, imagining what it would be like to feel Ellie's hands on you, her mouth exploring your body. The thought of her pinning you down, her fingers teasingly tracing your skin, sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes traced the V-line of her abdomen once more, and you could almost feel her pressed against you, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered your name.

Your body reacted to the fantasy, heat pooling between your legs as you shifted in your seat, trying to find some relief. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking back to Ellie's face. Her eyes were closed, her breath coming in shallow pants as the needle continued its work. You wondered if she could feel your gaze, if she could sense the effect she had on you.

The thought of Ellie's hands gripping your hips, her body pressed against yours, her mouth claiming yours in a heated kiss-it was enough to make you ache with need. You clenched your thighs together, trying to focus on anything else, but the image of Ellie fucking you, her voice husky with desire, refused to leave your mind.

Ellie attempted conversation with you, but you were too distracted, not hearing her words as your focus zeroed in on her skin. Her grip on your hand loosened, and her fingers splayed against your upper thigh, squeezing slightly to grab your attention.

Your eyes meet hers, heat flooding your face at the contact. “Are you okay?”

Shit. Did she notice you staring? “I- Yes. I'm fine,” you stuttered out, sneaking another glance at her v-line before meeting her eyes again. Something in her gaze shifted and–oh god, you had to get out of there. The way she was looking at you through her lashes had your aching cunt soaking your panties. “I have to use the washroom.”

You got up abruptly, not waiting for a reply from Ellie as you beelined to the washroom towards the back of the parlour. Once inside, you leaned against the sink, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. The mirror reflected your wide eyed, lust fueled expression, your thoughts racing with the memory of Ellie's exposed skin.

Minutes passed, and you heard a light knock on the door. “Hey, you okay in there?” Ellie's voice was soft but laced with concern.

“Yeah, just…give me a minute,” you called back, trying to steady your voice.

Ellie's hesitation was palpable, but she opened the door anyway, slipping inside and closing it behind her. Shit. You forgot to lock the door.

"I was worried about you," she said, her eyes scanning your face. "You seemed... off."

You bit your lip, avoiding her gaze. "I'm fine, really."

Ellie stepped closer, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her eyes. "I saw the way you were looking at me," she murmured, her voice low. "And it's okay. You don't have to hide it."

Your heart pounded in your chest as her words sank in. "Ellie, I-"

She cut you off with a kiss, her lips soft but demanding against yours. You melted into her touch, your hands gripping her shirt as you pulled her closer. The kiss deepened, years of unspoken desire finally breaking free.

Ellie's hands roamed your body, sliding under your shirt to caress your skin. Her touch was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. She pushed you against the wall, her mouth moving to your neck, sucking and biting gently.

You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in her hair.

"Ellie," you breathed out, your voice heavy with need. She pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire as she looked at you.

"Do you want this?" she asked, her voice husky.

"Yes," you replied without hesitation. "I want you."

Ellie smirked, her hands moving to unbutton your jeans. She slipped her hand inside, her fingers brushing against your soaked panties. "You're so wet," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear.

You gasped as her fingers slid inside your panties, teasing your entrance.

"Ellie, please," you begged, your hips bucking against her hand.

She slid two fingers inside you, curling them to hit just the right spot. You moaned loudly, your back arching against the wall. Ellie's thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as she fucked you with her fingers.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the pleasure building inside you. "Ellie, I'm gonna-"

"Come for me," she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. Her words pushed you over the edge, your body shuddering as you came around her fingers.

Ellie didn't stop, continuing to finger you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. When you finally came down, she pulled her hand away, bringing her fingers to her lips and licking them clean. "You taste so good," she said, her voice filled with desire.

Before you could respond, Ellie dropped to her knees, her hands gripping your hips as she pulled your jeans and panties down. She kissed the inside of your thighs, her tongue flicking out to tease your skin. "Ellie," you moaned, your hands gripping her hair.

She licked a long stripe up your slit, her tongue swirling around your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking against her mouth. Ellie held you firmly in place, her tongue delving into your core, tasting you. She alternated between licking and sucking, her tongue expertly working you towards another orgasm.

Your legs trembled, your breaths coming in short gasps as the pleasure built inside you once more. "Ellie, I'm gonna come again," you panted. She hummed against your clit, the vibration sending you over the edge.

You came with a loud cry, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Ellie continued to lick you, her tongue gentle now, helping you come down from your high.

When you finally caught your breath, Ellie stood up, her lips glistening with your arousal. She kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. "That was incredible," she whispered against your lips.

You smiled, your body still tingling with pleasure. "Yes, it was," you agreed. "But what about you?"

Ellie grinned, her hands moving to unbutton her own jeans. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet," she said, her voice filled with anticipation.

hi!! can i just possibly request a quick blurb about stella and her brothers cuddling?? the plot would be something like this!!

stella’s on her period and at the moment all she wants to do is cuddle, so she goes from room to room rounding her brothers up and bringing them back to her room for a impromptu sleepover!! and they all have just missed each other during the season!! so they don’t do the fake complaining siblings do when you come in to their room (or in her case bring them to her room) and they all just cuddle all night like they used to do when they were little☹️☹️

ps.. i would think stella’s periods would be HELL mine are (and i’m anemic) it’s just like the extra blood leaving your body even though it’s supposed to?? it’s just actual hell. i get SO dizzy and i throw up and the cramps are the WORST (and for the cake on the top!!) i get SUPER light sensitive🍾🍾🎉🎉🎊🎊 (everybody clap!!) so i just feel like i the worst hangover of my life dude

and the reason i’m humbly requesting this blurb is because i’m on mine rn😭😭 also IM SO SORRY if the period thing is tmi..

ꔫ dog pile!

°. — pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X siblings! Hughes brothers )

°. — details ( g; fluff, humor. w; cursing. wc; 1.8k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( thank you so much for requesting! I absolutely loved the idea! And don’t worry about it being a tmi! I am also anemic and my periods are HELL! I tried to get this out as fast as I can, I just been busy with some family things. I tried to make it sweet, but I accidentally made it chaotic. I hope you enjoy! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist - you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

°. — smutty asks about Stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨💒୧˚ smutty stella & rut!

Stella huffed in annoyance for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last five minutes, she sat up from laying in her bed and twisted her body to fix her pillows again. She just couldn't get comfortable, and God was it frustrating to keep on moving when she was having terrible cramps. But to be honest her being uncomfy isn't the full reason for her being frustrated. She was alone at home with her siblings, and instead of them spending time together, they were all spread out around the house doing their own thing. 

The more she thought about it, the grumpier she got. 

Stella decided she had enough of being alone, she grabbed her remote and paused the Christmas movie she was watching. She flung her thick blanket off her sweatpants covered legs (the sweatpants that she stole from Rutger) and got out of her warm bed. She slipped on her favorite grinch slippers and stomped her way out of her room and down the hallway to the closest room to her, Quinn's. 

Luckily his door was already cracked, and Stella pushed it fully open with her hand, standing still in the doorway, her hands at her sides. Quinn’s head snaps up from his phone and towards his sister at the sudden sound. He opens his mouth to ask if she's alright, but he quickly closes it when he notices the grumpy pout on her lips. Stella stares at Quinn and speaks in a freakishly calm tone “My room now please.” 

“Uhh alright” Quinn agreed in a confused tone, he got out of his bed and followed his little sister out of his room. His eyes widening at the sound of her slippers stomping against the floor. Jack, who opened his door, flinches at the sight of Stella standing right in front of him, not expecting to see her. Before Jack could say anything, Stella is grabbing his arm and pulling him with her. Jack just lets her pull him along to her room, looking behind at Quinn for some context on what's going on, but he just receives a shrug from the eldest Hughes sibling. 

“Sit down” Stella mumbles tiredly pushing Jack to sit on the edge of her bed, she glances at Quinn with her grumpy eyes, and he moves to sit on her bed, his back leaning against her headboard his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for stella to explain what's going on. Jack looks up at stella waiting for an explanation but instead he gets a quick “Stay here.” 

“What's up with her?” Jack turns around to ask Quinn once Stella waddles out of the room, moving up on the bed so he is leaning against the headboard, his legs sprawled out. Quinn looks too jack and responds casually “Its stella, we’ll never know.” 

Stella moves into the living room, her eyes going to Luke, who was sitting on the couch with his back to her, playing Mario Kart. He was muttering to himself as he played, Stella having to stop herself from laughing at the sight. Stella moves to stand next to the tv, Luke looks away from the tv for a second to look at her for a moment before looking back to his game. “Hey stell” 

“Lukey, come with me please” Stella sweetly asks Luke, taking a new approach to get him in her room. Last time she interrupted Luke at gaming, he tackled her to the couch (gently) and sat on her. Stella really didn't want to experience that again, especially with her cramps. She hoped that her sweet tone would convince him to come, but of course she was wrong. “Bro I'm in the middle of a game.” 

“Bro, I don't care” Stella quickly snaps back, doing her best to intimidate his tone. Luke looked away from the screen to give her a ‘really’ look. But Stella stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest and staring silently at him with her grumpy frown. Luke sighs and turns off the game, knowing there was no way he was gonna win this battle, not when she was extra emotional. 

Stella smiles triumphantly when Luke shuts off the TV and stands up to follow her, Luke rolling his eyes at his little sister's antics. Luke follows behind stella and asks "What are we doin” 

“We're having a sleepover, Quinn and jack just don't know it yet” Stella giggles, she knew she was being a ‘little’ dramatic, but she also didn't care. She didn't know how long she would be with all of her brothers until they had to leave. Luke grins, some of his best memories are him and his siblings having sleepovers. “Hell yeah! But I'm picking the movie.” 

“Fine, but I'm not watching Christmas story again” Stella agrees causing Luke to laugh, ever since stella was little she has always had a strong hatred for that movie, and Luke being the annoying brother he is, likes to choose that as his choice for movie night. 

“She got you too huh” Quinn jokes once the two youngest join them in the room. Stella rolls her eyes and slips off her slippers while Luke sets his phone on her side table next to Jacks, not before shutting it off, not wanting to get bothered by his notifications. “So, you gonna tell us why you kidnapped us?” Jack questions with an unnecessary amount of sass. 

“We're having a sleepover, and I won't take no for an answer” stella remarked with the same amount of sass. Jack's offended look on his face from Stella's sass turns to a look of relief, he was worried Stella gathered them all to tell them bad news or something. Jack lets out a heavy breath and dramatically rests his hand over his heart “You could have just said that. Fuck i thought you were going to tell us your pregnant or somethin!” 

Quinn grimaces at the thought, and Jack looks disgusted as he says the last part. Luke rolls his eyes at Jack's stupidity and scoffs “She's literally on her period dumbass” Quinn sighs, not liking the turn the conversation was going to. Jack ignores Luke's words and gives Stella a worried look “you're not, right?” 

“I’m not pregnant jack!” Stella shouts with annoyed huff, purposefully digging her knees into Jack's legs when she climbs over him to lay between him and Quinn. Jack winces and brings his leg up to his chest, rubbing the skin to soothe the pain. Luke laughs loudly and pushes Jack a little to the side so there was room for him to lay, causing Jack to loudly complain but nonetheless scoot over. Quinn lets out a tired sigh and wraps his arm around Stella and pulls her closer so there was more room for the other two. 

After a few more minutes the four siblings got situated in Stella's big bed, the blanket over all of them, poor luke had his feet sticking out of the end of the blanket since jack was being stingy and pulled the blanket all the way up to his shoulders. Stella yawned and rested her head on Quinn's chest, his hand that was resting on her arm came up to play with her hair. Jack, who was comfortably resting in the middle, had Luke resting his head on his shoulder. All of their legs somehow intertwined together just like how it was when they were little. 

Luke finally decided on grown ups, well more like Jack grabbed the remote and pressed on it. The siblings watched the movie in silence, with the occasional laugh, the siblings just enjoying being all together. Stella didn't want to get sappy, but she couldn't help but too “I really missed this” Quinn smiled and held his sister tighter, he understands how Stella feels the most, both of them being away from their siblings while Luke and Jack were still together. 

“I missed this too” Jack mumbled with a sniffle, he really did miss spending time with all his siblings, he loved having Luke with him, but it wasn't the same as having them all together. Quinn hummed in agreement while Luke sat up a little, staring at Jack with a teasing smile “Are you crying?” Jack glares at Luke and nudges him hard with his elbow, only causing Luke to laugh louder. “Fuck off luke” 

“Don’t tell luke to fuck off” Quinn snaps at jack causing him to look at his older brother in disbelief. Stella groans in annoyance and grabs the remote off Jack's lap to pause the movie before saying tiredly “Can we all stop saying fuck and just enjoy the moment” Quinn doesn't look away from jack and jack finally caves in with a sigh, turning to luke to apologize. Stella presses play on the movie with a happy smile. 

They continued to watch the movie, all of them laughing in unison at the same moments and talking about their favorite parts. It was like how it was when they were little, somehow all of them had moved closer together. Stella had a permanent smile as she watched the movie, finding so much comfort from being so close to her brothers, she felt so much better. 

Quinn and Stella felt themselves slowly drifting off to sleep, their eyes fluttering close.  Jack was munching on the candy Stella had on her side table, talking to Luke in hushed whispers so they wouldn't disturb the sleepy duo. Luke adjusts his position and frowns “Why is my ass so warm.” 

“Because you're sitting on her heating pad dumbass,” Jack laughs, and Stella, who is almost asleep, couldn't help but join Jack in laughter. Quinn's eyes flutter open, and he clears his throat in confusion, his voice tired “What happened” Luke scowls at Jack as he starts to laugh louder, tossing his head back. Stella giggles “Just Luke being luke”

 Luke pulls the pillow out from Jack's head and uses his long arm to reach over Jack and smack Stella right in the head with the pillow. Jack winces when his head smacks against the headboard and Stella gasps in shock at the hit. Luke didn't realize he had also hit Quinn in the face and soon he had three annoyed siblings staring him down. Luke laughs nervously “Uhh” 

And before they knew it, they broke out into a full pillow fight, Stella teaming up with Luke after getting a good hit on him. The next 10 minutes are filled with laughter and Luke's screams as Jack and Quinn target him. The exhausted siblings soon lay down and before the next movie reached the half point, they were all already asleep. Tangled into Stella's bed, Luke and Stella sleep peacefully between their older brothers. 

Another sleepover they wouldn't forget. 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( the ending is kinda rushed, it could have been so much better but I really wanted to get it out as fast as I can )

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @bradenschneider )

Simon and Johnny <3

(Base game version) Sims In Bloom: A Sims 4 Legacy Challenge ☆ﾟ*･｡*･

I won’t be play testing this one, so please let me know if you come across any issues!

( Original version )

General rules

For each generation complete the designated aspiration, career and skills.

Asterisk * marked points are optional, you can choose to complete these to make the challenge more difficult.

There are two colours associated with every generation. Use these for genetics (berry/vanilla), or just clothes and house decor if you wish.

Start each new generation with a small house/apartment and 1000 simoleons. If you want to make the challenge harder, you can start each generation on an empty lot with 0 simoleons (rags to riches style!)

Play on any lifespan you wish (short is not recommended).

If you decide to play this challenge @ me or use the tag #sib or #SimsInBloom if you want me to see!

Gen 1 - Daisy (white, yellow)

Gardening has always been your passion. Owning a large, healthy garden is all you’ve ever wanted in life, even if your nails constantly have soil under them and you have so many broken pots you’ve lost count. Your happy place is sitting in the shade of the fruit trees that you grew yourself from tiny saplings. You wonder what your family will grow to do, and hope that they will flourish just as beautifully as your garden has. This is the start of your family legacy!

Aspiration: Freelance botanist

Traits: Cheerful, Clumsy, Loves the outdoors

Career: Self-employed/None

Skills: Gardening, fishing, fitness

Earn money by selling the produce you’ve grown/collected yourself

Grow a cowplant and keep it alive for as long as you live (if it dies, immediately plant a new one)

Grow 5 perfect plants

Marry a sim who also has the ‘loves the outdoors’ trait

Grow a death flower

Keep reading

in love w this😋😋

dark but just a game

just you and your brother's best friend who is completely off limits.

warnings: bbf!ellie , top!ellie , bottom!reader , oral sex (r!receiving) , fingering (r!receiving) , scissoring , slightly mean!ellie at first , then loser!ellie shows up , she's actually a simp

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ellie. your brother's best friend for as long as you can remember. always around, always being so... ellie. when she's not ignoring you, she's picking on every little thing you do. you're excited talking about something? she tells you to shut up. you're walking in the living room of your own house? she tells you to leave. but the thing is, this type of behavior is specifically directed at you. everyone else, and i mean everyone else, always talks about how nice she is. about how good she is at patrols, how kind she is to the people of jackson, how every single kid in town likes her. jesus, even the horses seem to be affectionate towards her. you don't understand why she always had such a distaste for you. you might be overreacting a little bit, cause that's what you do, but it really bothers you cause you also think she's nice, kind, and cool. so you're always, subtly, trying to get her attention. the only thing you're not aware about is that ellie is doing the same thing. but in her own twisted way.

today is one of these days where you're at your house and find ellie walking around like she owns the place.

"what are you even doing here?" ellie rolls her eyes when you two bump into each other at the kitchen. she does her best to look cool in front of you, crossing her arms and making a face that she thinks it's intimidating.

"i live here." you stare at her like she's stupid. which is not too far from reality. you take a look at how her lightly toned biceps are flexing. she's totally not doing that on purpose. it's not like she always wears her sluttiest tank tops around you cause four years ago she heard you talking about how you're into arms to one of your friends. yeah, it's not like that at all, if you ask her.

"in the kitchen?" she raises an eyebrow like you're the stupid one. what a smart ass.

"i'm sorry, ellie, may i get a glass of water from my own fridge?" your tone is dripping with sarcasm, and she chuckles. ellie bows stupidly in front of you and points to the fridge.

"go ahead." she talks as if she's doing some kind of charity, a mocking grin plastered on her face. her eyes are attentively following you as you walk to the fridge.

"i'm grown now, ellie. i don't need supervision to be in the kitchen." you roll your eyes and she just keeps staring at you with a blank expression. "what?"

"what are you wearing?" her voice is quieter now. if you didn't know ellie, you'd say she looks nervous. "i mean, this is a family house." she adds, trying to seem playful. you look down at your oversized white shirt and... that's all. all you're wearing. in your defense, you thought you were home alone. but ellie always pops up in the corners like a ghost.

"my pajamas... or something like that." you shrug, feeling a little embarrassed. ellie simply nods. whatever. she heads to the living room, crashing on the sofa. you quietly follow her and just stand there, watching her roll a blunt. she's pretty much back to ignoring you now. her hands are fast and skilled. she lights up the joint and takes a hit. you're still awkwardly standing there when she turns on the video game console. you just want her attention.

"ok, you can play." ellie sighs and rolls her eyes. "just don't... remind me you're here." she tosses one of the controllers to your side without even sparing you a quick glance. she brings the blunt to her lips again, not sharing it with you. she's not taking the risk of looking stupid in front of you just because of an... indirect kiss. yeah, she's ridiculous.

"manners?" you raise an eyebrow at her actions. everyone knows that a joint is supposed to be shared. she's always doing petty things like this when you're around.

"you get manners when you get your own weed." she blows the smoke on your face, just to piss you off. you roll your eyes. what a child. the game starts. "don't start whining when i beat your ass." she looks focused with her tongue poking out of her mouth, and she is, indeed, beating your ass. you groan.

"you're so not fun, ellie." you blurt out, eyebrows furrowed in anger and she snickers. oh, she loves this.

"i said no whining. jesus, it's just a game. what a bad loser." ellie says as if she didn't purposely use every skill she has to beat you in seconds. she's bitchy like that.

"it's just a game, huh?" you cross your arms as you give her a sour glance. you're tired of her always having the upper hand. you're gonna play a different game with her right now. "what are you even doing here anyway? my brother's not home."

"it's none of your business." she looks away, and suddenly the blunt on her hand seems to be the most interesting thing in the world. got her.

"aww... you just wanted to see me?" your mocking tone makes her ears get slightly red. there it is.

"shut up." she grunts, still not looking directly at you. yes, she wanted to see you. in fact, she always does. her heart begs to see you every day, even if it's just to bicker with you and piss you off. she just wants your attention.

"is someone feeling lonely?" you tuck her hair behind her ear, and ellie suddenly forgets how breathing works. what are you doing? "you just want to be touched a little, don't you?" your whisper in her ear makes ellie fully blush. she didn't expect this turn of events, but she's not moving away from your touch.

"i..." she whispers back, her gaze glued on the ground. her mind is racing. she wasn't expecting this at all.

"hm?" your hands find their way to her hair, and you start massaging her scalp. she melts. ellie leans closer to your touch, and she's not sure what to do as her heart beats faster and faster. "you're so cute when you shut up." you whisper, making your lips brush against her jaw. her breath hitches. she leans in closer, wanting more with her heart pounding wildly. you laugh.

"what?" she mumbles, embarrassed. she knows you two shouldn't be doing this. ever since you were kids, your brother has been overprotective of you. he can't stand it when his friends try to have their way with you simply because they are his friends and you, his little sister. it's weird for him. ellie knows this. still, she's not making any effort to get out of your trap.

"you're dirty, ellie." she looks like she was hit by a car. her eyes, wide, and her breath, shaky. "you know that, right?" you start to firmly caress her thigh, and now she's trembling. "this is wrong..." your whisper is like a spell, making her dizzy from the thrill, but also from the guilt of it all.

"um..." she tries to you something. anything. a 'stop'. but her mouth doesn't seem to have the ability to form words. this is wrong. this is wrong. this is wrong. but it's so good...

"you wanna fuck your best friend's little sister, huh?" your kiss her neck, your hand closer and closer to... it. "he's gonna be so mad at you..." ellie shivers, her breath even more shaky. she closes her eyes tightly, not believing this is happening. she tries to get away from you, but her body isn't cooperating right now. you firmly cup her pussy, and she gasps. "are you enjoying taking advantage of me?"

"you know that it's not... like this..." her voice is weak and needy. you straddle her thigh and she whimpers. she's starting to panic and she looks pathetic. how far are you going to take this?

"you're filthy." you whisper in her ear, and she shakes her head with a miserable expression. you're gonna kill her.

"you're... the filthy one..." she swallows hard, not knowing where this is all leading. she's shaking and breathing rapidly, but you have control of her now. you're teasing her in all the right ways, and she's barely able to respond.

"me? but i'm so shy..." you bury your head in the crook of her neck, gently sucking on her skin. ellie's heart is pounding like it never did before, but she's enjoying every second of it, even if her brain is telling her it's wrong.

"you're not shy at all..." she mumbles breathlessly, her entire body trembling. you're not. you've never been. not in situations of that kind, at least. all these years, you've watched ellie from afar, hearing her talk about random girls to your brother, and you felt jealousy build up inside you. not... not cause you like her... or something. it's just that... you know you can be better than them. you're gonna show her. but for now, you're messing with her a little bit. this is just a fun game for you. yeah. just a game.

"oh, i am... i don't even know what i'm doing." you blink your eyes at her. ellie's heart rate goes up even higher. you're making no sense. you're not even shy. you're just playing her like a puppet.

"you know exactly what you're doing." she whispers, exasperated. she's frustrated, annoyed and horny. very horny. this is not fair. she's always had her little fantasies about what she would do to you if she had the chance, but you're nothing like she expected. you are a tease. you're breaking her.

"i bet my brother wouldn't think that... right, els?" you're getting a kick out of this situation. it's way too fun for you. ellie, on the other hand, is on the verge of a heart attack. she can't do this. she can't do this. she can't do this.

"i s-should... i need to go." she whispers, trying to push you away. if she really wanted, she could do it easily. she's stronger than you, after all. but something is telling you that ellie wants to stay right here in this moment.

"but i didn't even get to show you my new panties..." you mumble as you play with the hem of your big oversized shirt. ellie's jaw drops. what the fuck. you can't do this to her.

"what?" she asks, her voice hoarse. when you press your body against hers, she shuts her eyes hard. she can feel every little curve of your body.

"they're pretty... but they're not here." you start. "i'm not wearing anything right now." you whisper the last part in her ear, and ellie is about to faint.

"you're not wearing anything?" she asks, like she's fucking deaf. maybe she is. maybe you broke her to a point where she's losing all her senses. her voice is still raspy from the shock and her is mind spinning.

"not even a bra..." you gently hold her hand and make her grab your breasts. ellie looks at you like you just stabbed her with a knife. her heart is beating so fast that she's afraid it'll jump out of her chest. her hand is trembling when she hesitantly palms your chest.

"oh god..." it's all she can say as she bites her lips, trying to hold in a noise. you're not wearing anything at all. she can feel your hardened nipples under the fabric of the shirt. this is so not fair to her.

"what were you saying again? something about going home?" you start moving your hips back and forth on her thigh, and she buries her head on your shoulder, her body giving up. she's weak. you have her just where you want.

"please... i can't..." she mumbles, her voice so needy. poor thing. but then her hands grip your hips tightly, as if she doesn't want to let go. you smile. that's what you like to see.

"your hands are so strong... and pretty..." you keep moving faster and faster, her flexed thigh giving the exact amount of pressure you need on your clit right now. her tattoed arm tenses up, making her veins pop. you almost cum at the sight.

"y-you feel even better..." ellie whispers, her hands massaging your hips. she's getting lost in all these feelings you're giving her right now. her brain is mushy and she's completely at your mercy.

"yeah? you like it how i grind my pussy on you?" ellie whimpers at your words. you take that as a yes. "give me a kiss..." you mumble, still moving up and down. she eagerly slams her lips on yours, you two sharing a messy and needy kiss. she moves her hips to match your rhythm, unable to help herself. she's giving you everything you want now. your soaked pussy presses against her clothed one, making a mess all over the fabric of her jeans and it feels so good. her hands are all over you, squeezing your boobs, your ass, your waist. her lips are hungry, leaving a trail of hot kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving marks that you'll have to deal with later. she's not even thinking. she just wants more of you.

"take it... take it off...." she mumbles into your lips as she lifts your shirt, throwing it into the air.

"you seem very eager for someone who can't stand me..." you try to tease her a little to show that you don't care about this at all, thank you very much, but ellie is not even listening. she blinks hard, her eyes glued to your body as if she's in a trance. "it's ok. you can touch me... anywhere you want." you add quietly, suddenly feeling kinda shy with all the attention. ellie nods eagerly, burying her face on your boobs. of course that's where she wants to touch first. she kisses it and squeezes it, looking up at you from time to time as if you are a goddess incarnated as a human. her hands palm your ass, pulling you closer to her as she takes one of your hardened nipples into her mouth. a soft moan escapes your lips. your fingers are tangled in her auburn hair, pushing her head onto your body harder.

you're feeling... weird. every time ellie gives you one of her sweet looks with those gorgeous green eyes, it feels your heart is being thrown directly into an electric fence. it's making your palms sweat and your stomach is... oh, no...

"what?" ellie stops her make out session with your boobs. she looks so pretty, lips glistening with saliva, face flushed, freckles all over her cheeks, furrowed brows and... "hey? are you okay?"

"you're very pretty." you want to slap yourself in the fucking face. why the fuck did you just say that?

"oh..." she scratches the nape of her neck awkwardly. she looks away so you don't see her pink cheeks. "thank you." you want to grab her face and kiss all over it, tell her how much you like her, and oh my god. what is wrong with you? you have a frown on your face. when ellie sees that she timidly whispers: "we should stop, right?"

"no, no... not at all." you press your lips onto hers again, in an attempt to forget... that. ellie is caught by surprise, but soon she is kissing you back with just as much passion. her hands cup your face as you kiss, your bodies falling onto the couch. she's now on top of you, your legs wrapped around her waist. her hands slide down your torso, feeling your soft skin and she closes her eyes for a few moments, almost as if she can't believe this is happening.

"can... how... should i..." she stutters and you can see the way her hands are trembling. ellie killed and dealt with countless infected by herself, and yet she had never been so nervous in her life. all because of a pretty girl.

"here." you lock eyes with her and gently grab her wrist, guiding her hand between your legs. her cheeks get more pink, if that's even possible.

"ok." she sucks in a deep breath. "here..." her fingers cautiously touch your slit, taking in your wetness. she bites her lip, her gaze glued to the sight. you slowly part your legs even more, and ellie blinks hard. "prettiest... prettiest fucking pussy.... i've ever seen..." you're sure she's never seen that many. ellie's not a player, you know that... she's more of a romantic. when she likes a girl, she likes a girl. and you hope she likes you. you have to fight the urge to close your legs when you look away from her. you're... nervous. as much as you hate to admit it. you feel her giving your clit a sweet little peck, and you shiver. "pretty..." she mumbles again almost as if she's in a daze. her lips start to place a few kisses on the inside of your thigh. "so... fucking... pretty..." her fingers gently rub your clit in little circles as her lips get closer and closer to your dripping cunt. you look down, and caress her hair as you bite your lip. ellie gives you another one of her Sweet Looks™ before closing her eyes and diving into you.

"oh, god..." your back is arched as she eats your pussy like she's never tasted anything better before. your legs are both resting on her shoulders as she pushes her face deeper and deeper into you, her hands gripping on your ass cheeks. she licks and slurps everything you have to give her, leaving your hips trembling and making your grip on her hair get stronger. she's moaning into your cunt and basically humping the couch under her, getting so worked up just from eating you out. "ellie, f-fuck... k-keep doing this..." your thighs start to press against each other, trapping her head and ellie nearly goes cross eyed. she's even more hungry now, your juices all over her skin. her veiny hands pull your body against her, making you fuck yourself on her face. you roll your trembling hips on her mouth and she grunts. It's like she's getting as much pleasure from this as you are.

"i'll keep... doing this..." her babbles get lost in the heat of the room when she slides two slender fingers inside you. she latches her greedy mouth on your clit again, and start fucking you so good. her hands are fast and skilled, after all. at this point you can't hold back any noises and ellie's going crazy. she's the one making you feel like this. not the girl from the stables, not the guy from the pub, it's HER. it's on her fingers you're clenched around, it's on her face your hips are pressed against. and it's for her that you're gonna cum. "gonna give it to me?" her voice is shaky and needy as she gasps for air. "please, give it to me..."

"y-yes... fuck, ellie..." oh, that she's doing. you close your eyes tightly, and next thing you know, a tingle is spreading all over your body as your hips squirm and you bite your hand to hold back a scream. ellie gently pecks her way up your body and cups your face with both hands. she's trying her best to hold back the I love you that wants to escape her mouth. instead, you two share a sloppy and lazy kiss.

"i want more..." she mumbles as her lips brush against yours. your hands slide down her body, caressing her hips and abdomen. ellie lets her head fall into your neck as she tries to calm down. her boxers are fucking soaked. unwittingly, her hips buckle against your body. she's needy. she just wants you.

"shhh..." you whisper as you kiss her biceps. couldn't miss the chance. "gonna take care of you now, ok?" ellie feels like crying. she's desperate. you feel her nodding in the crook of your neck and you hug her tightly. you're feeling... a lot. for her. but you can worry about that later. right now... "let's take this off..." you gently tug at the fabric of her jeans.

"yes..." she whispers in a whine. as if by magic, she's naked. your gaze instantly falls to her perky tits and next thing you know, your tongue is on her pretty pink nipples. ellie becomes a whimpering mess, hands gripping on the flesh of your ass, pushing your body against hers. it's messy. your hands are groping her biceps, because why not, as you suck on her nipples like it's candy. then you press you cunt against hers and ellie loses it.

"need... need to..." she pushes you, making you lie on your back on the couch and sits on top of you, fitting her pussy into yours. "oh, shit..." she throws her head back, eyes tightly shut, as you two start grinding against each other. ellie grips your thighs and throws one of your legs over her shoulder, placing sloppy kisses on your heel as you roll your hips on her. "this is... so fucking..." ellie is babbling as she pounds onto you harder. if the noises leaving your lips weren't enough, the wet, squishy noises hanging on the air were dirty. it was erotic. and so... "so fucking good... oh my god..."

"ellie..." you whine as you feel your lower belly tightening. you're so sensitive that your eyes are wet with tears. you can't see anything at this point, just a very blurry ellie slamming her pussy against yours like she's trying to fuck a baby into you. as if that's possible.

"fuck... fuck... gonna fucking cum all over you... shit..." ellie's eyes are tightly closed, her lip between her teeth almost drawing blood. she's pretty much using you at this point, her hips moving in an insane pace. she needs it. bad. you hands find their way to her tits and you pinch her nipples making ellie gasp. her pretty green eyes roll to the back of her head as her body falls on top of you with a silent moan, her warm sticky slick coating down her thighs. she's still trembling when you hug her, the two of you holding each other, trying to catch your breaths.

"so..." you start after a few moments of silence and ellie shushes you. you giggle softly. "what?"

"don't even... just shut up..." she sweetly pecks your lips and you feel that again. that weird feeling from earlier. you're scared of what it could possibly mean. ellie, noticing your expression, whispers: "hey... what's up?"

"i'm feeling weird... that's all." you mumble, hiding your face on her shoulder. she gently caresses your hair with so much affection that you don't even know what to do with yourself. so much for not being shy.

"weird? like.. good weird? or bad weird?" unlike you, she seems completely comfortable with the situation, her arms wrapped around you as you timidly snuggle against her body.

"that's the point... i don't know." your voice is muffled since you have your face pressed firmly onto her shoulder. "probably... probably good, yeah..." you admit. "don't laugh at me."

"i'm not laughing!" she is. a little. just a little. "it's just... i don't know..." ellie is happy. she's the happiest girl in this shitty town right now. when she looks at you again, she sees that you still have your face hidden. "hey... come on, look at me." you slowly look up at her, and for the first time, she sees your eyes filled with hesitation. "it's alright... i got you..." her gentle touch finds your cheek. "we'll figure it out."

"really?" your whisper is quiet and shy.

"i promise." she adds. maybe you don't have as much control of this game as you thought.

achievement unlocked

fall in love with your brother's best friend.

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i’m thinking thoughts

rare picture: all 3 hughes brother smiling at the same time

tell me not, ellabs and appledash are the same