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Operation: Unforgettable
The Hunt
MDNI, fem pronouns, cursing, fighting, violence, blood, simon gets hurt :(, just a lil guys, reader does an interrogation. some military inaccuracies. inspo from jonny & simons scene as they interrogate milena—but a slight difference :) reader is involved! smut!! p in v.
enjoy yall ur comments & feedback means so much to me!
Masterlist here
You and Johnny managed to find a stairwell leading to the foyer below, immediately traveling down. You both hopped and skipped steps. Your feet hurt as you’re barefoot but there’s bigger fish to worry about now. The steady sound of your heart racing did nothing to soothe your nerves, as you both try to get away from the detonation site.
However, Johnny couldn’t resist making a joke next to you, sweating and heaving himself. He jumps down, skillfully landing.
“Fuckin’ hell lass, you’re somethin’ else runnin’ like tha’.”
“We have to.” You respond stiffly. Johnny could see the firmness yet the anxiety underneath your gaze, and he rounded the steps with you in tow. He had to admire your strength, you were like a stallion in your dress.
Only then—did a loud boom erupt minutes after Simon relayed his last position. One by one, the windows blew out from the pressure, glass shattering everywhere.
Both you and Johnny collapsed onto the stairs from the violent jolt, rolling down as the building swayed and shook, leaving your visions unsteady. Your head banged several times and Johnny himself heaved.
Eventually, your legs got tangled up in his, whilst loud grunts and groans could be heard from the stairwell.
A beam or two creaked loudly before collapsing, just a few feet away from your prone bodies. It lay haphazardly on the stairs. Dust and debris flew everywhere, attacking your nostrils.
Your palms bury in the ground, digging in for stability. There’s pain in your side but you disregard it as the need for survival comes first. Your blood rushes and pumps loudly in your ear, hot and brazen.
Coughing and shaking, Johnnys’ lengthy fingers wrap around your elbows to pull you up, as a series of screams and shouting erupted.
You two both staggered your way to the foyer and out the main hall through a set of doors. Your dress is ripped at the side where the zipper is at—but your focus is on the damage. Your eyes were wide and chest heaving with adrenaline.
It was distraught. The chandeliers had crashed and fell—people running like mad hens. The balcony top left stair crumbled completely, leaving only one side available for access. Glass shattered everywhere and painted the ground in sparkles.
You look to Johnny and he motions for you to stay put as you’re still barefoot. You then realize he has a small gash in his forehead.
“Johnny—“
“I know, dinnae fash yer’self.”
“Simon? Simon report.” Kyle shouts over the line and you spin around to see Kyle sweating and making his way over to you all. His boots crunch over glass, brows taut together.
Your eyes widened and you all wait for a response—head tilted and breaths held. Johnny pinched his chin in a vice grip, as his arms folded.
After a while noise comes in on all your comms.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon groans out, roughly. He heaved and groaned with effort, his voice portraying a slight tremor. You clench your gun as the building rumbled above, your eyes flicker to it as it was unsteady.
Another collapse was imminent.
“We gotta get out.” You breathed out harshly.
Johnny glares and grips his fists tightly, glancing at you, “I cannae leave him.”
“Simon, status?” Price shouts and you could hear the exasperation in his tone. Sharp and tense. Where was he? You know he didn’t exit along with you both. Your heart jumped and you frantically look around—no site of him.
“Shrapnel—I think. Stuck in the goddamned suite. It’s burnin. It’s burnin’ real bad’.” Simon huffs, and for a second you can hear the genuine agony in his tone. The smoothness is replaced by a shakiness and slight cry for help.
“Shit.” Johnny drags a hand down his lips.
“The suite? I have the key card.” You scrambled for it in your bra and held it up for the men. Kyle gives you a look but doesn’t say anything, his brows knit together and hands clenched tightly.
Johnny is too caught up with worry to crack a joke for his life. The site of his stern glare and intense gaze nearly had you pissing your pants. It was such a stark contrast to the chipper and vibrant Johnny.
Price cursed over the line as he didn’t have one. “Johnny, take the card. Meet me at the north side fast. We’ll get him out.” Price ordered tensely.
“Copy that.” Johnny replies instantly through his comm, yanking the card from your grasp. He turned into a blur as he angled between the yelling crowd. He was heading back to the dangerous burning site.
You couldn’t protest, or join him, as you’re left with Kyle. There was nothing for you to do anymore—you’re barefoot. Following would only compromise the mission and rescue op, and it made no sense.
Your dress is ripped at the seam, exposing a small amount of skin. It was easily hidden by your arms though when you lowered it. Your stomach doesn’t ease, though. Anxiety crawls up and down your stomach, making it churn uneasily. You feel the need to throw up but push it aside, closing your eyes momentarily.
The whole mission had turned upside down. With the explosion, and Simon hurt, two men going in to find him, it was a mess.
Kyle then motions for you to move out, from behind. “Come on.”
Turning to stumble out you cough from the smoke, back rattling. A woman races past you, her heels clicking. A fury of short hair flying. She shoves at a person, angling to run past.
That’s the one you recognize from the meeting upstairs.
You don’t hesitate.
Immediately pulling away from Kyle, you ran to her and threw her body against the column, fastening her hands around her back. She shouted and writhed, and Kyle sprinted over, grasping her shoulder to keep her still.
“She’s one of em.” You state roughly, jerking your gaze to him as you hold her wrists, “Stop resisting. We got you.”
The woman snarls and you then jerk her over to Laswell who’s by her SUV, in her tactical vest and wired up. She eyes the woman and recognition flashes in her eyes, “We got her.”
Laswell takes over and arrests her in the SUV for good measure. You sigh loudly, one job less to worry about.
Everyone is evacuated outside beyond a fence line and firefighter trucks roll in—blaring. Their lights flash brightly and you hear the shouts of them as they unload and begin working the aerial to the north side to cool the fire.
“We can’t vent the roof, it’ll collapse.” A firefighter shouted.
Unease fills you as your team members are still inside.
You turn back to Laswell, your jaw set and even the muscle jumps from the tension, “Fuckers figured me out. They’re gonna stall the delivery.”
You cursed and shook your head, praying Simon and Price made it back safely. Your eyes kept wandering back to the entrance, seeing smoke bellow and fire rave from above.
“No use worrying about that. We got her.” Kyles’ brow raised in the direction of the woman sitting in the car. She’s scowling, her head hung low and silent. You had a feeling she’d be tough to crack.
“Let’s hope she knows more than something. Can’t wait for the interrogation.” You scoff and cross your arms, then swivel your head to Kyle and Laswell.
“You and me both.” Kyle said firmly, not removing his steel gaze from her. He watched her like a hawk, eyeing her every movement.
“Has Qattarra cracked?” You ask, brow raised at Laswell.
“No. She’s been silent.” Laswell sighs, holding her walkie.
Just then—her walkie signals and your comms shoot alive.
“Bravo Team—how copy?”
“Good.” Kyle shifted on his soot covered dress shoes and sends his gaze to the entrance of the venue, vigilant and cautious.
“Price?” You immediately say, hand flying to your comm.
“We’re good. Kyles’ with me. Unharmed.” You said firmly, turning over to look at the entrance as well. Your eyes narrowed, trying to see for a sign of them. The smoke is so thick and turning black, a race against time.
Parts of the building structure rain down heavily, people dodging just in time as a statue crumbled down. Rocks collide and slam on the pavement.
Not a good sign.
“Everyone out! It’s gonna blow.” The fire chief shouts gruffly in his walkie, eyeing the blackening fire as he strides around the front of the venue. He grips his walkie talkie tightly, chest rising and falling from exertion. His eyes are filled with a maddening worry you understand.
“On the way.” Price says gruffly before the line glitches. You swallowed, heart pattering. As you watch the entrance, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of anxiety. Of course you cared for the team. You knew Simon was injured, and Johnny was in there helping.
And Price—he sounded okay.
A minute passed and eventually you see three hunky figures come out the smoke and debris. Simon is placed on a stretcher, his mask still on and his eyes are shut weakly. His rugged and pale features were on display—white vest completely soaked red. You know it’s not good. His arm drapes off the side and he then raises it, to give Johnny a thumbs up clumsily.
The blood loss made him woozy, because the real Simon would’ve never done such a thing. It only made you even worried, fingers itching to come over.
Johnny scoffs and can’t help the grin despite the situation. But immediately, Price and him and rushed to the side and Simon is placed in the awaiting ambulance.
“I’m goin’ with him, Cap.”
“Could use the help.” Price said, eyeing Johnny. But Johnny looks conflicted and stressed again—eyes flashing.
Price could sense his unease and then nods his head to the ambulance.
Johnny climbs in immediately and the doors shut.
Behind, a mushroom cloud of smoke erupts and another boom commences. The entire building shifts as the medics drive away to the nearest hospital. The roof caved in—leaving an expansive gaping hole where the fire broke free.
Before you could walk towards them, Kyle grabs your arm. You glance at it before looking at his warm charcoal eyes. You almost get lost in them—they shine so brilliantly in the light.
“Not yet.” He says gently, although his eyes stayed on yours. “Stay with me.”
You stay by his side and more than ever, you’re thankful for your team member. Kyle places a comforting hand on your shoulder and you crossed your arms tightly, brows set in a furrow.
Back at base, it was absolutely tense. Price leaned over his desk, suit jacket thrown aside and tie loose. He looked a mess. He was stiff and silent, bracing his hands on the desk. A strand of his hair flicked down.
And Kyle sat on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, and hunched over. He was tense as well, his leg was bouncing a million miles a minute, the sound of his zipper flapping filling your ears.
“Come on, we can’t waste time.” Price suddenly spoke up and you’re immediately at his side. You moved from the table you were leaning against, causing your gear to shift.
Kyle looks up, alert and awake.
You lean over the table and Laswell strides in—sensing the tension in the office. Her heels click loudly, arms swinging with vigor. A few other men follow in and they set their briefcases down, unloading a bunch of paperwork.
“He’s alright. Just checked in with the surgeon. A bit of shrapnel pierced his lung.” Laswell said—immediately loud sighs and groans filled the room of relief.
Kyle got up and followed them to the table determined as ever. His fists are clenched, as he too understands the importance of his team.
“First name basis, huh? That’ll do ya a lot.” Price said to Laswell, slightly amused to help the situation, although his face was focused.
She scoffed and turned her torso to the interrogation room, chest heaving. She was coated thinly with sweat from all the movement. “Better to have connection with me than to not, right?”
“Damn right.” Kyle said, rubbing his scruffy jaw.
“Is she talking?” Laswells eyes snapped to Price, before the interrogation window again. Inside, the woman sat. It was the woman Laswell arrested.
You craned your neck, eyes narrowing slightly. Your arms were crossed and your blazer pulled tightly at the corners from the effort.
“I haven’t taken a crack at her yet.” You said, then uncrossed your arms and placed them onto the cold glass table. Your eyes peer up at Laswell, seeing Kyle grow irritated at the lack of the woman’s compliance. You can’t blame him. Time was ticking and Simon got hurt because of her incompetence as well as her people.
“Take a stab at her. We need the details.” Laswell cocks her head.
You look to Price who nodded, his eyes tracking you. You clear your throat and enter in. You strode on your kitten heels that gave just a bit of height, whilst not destroying your feet from earlier events. You cross your arms and lean over her, your dress pants straining.
She sat, head down. But upon hearing you, she stiffens up.
“Milena.” You say, slowly. Almost as if tasting her name on your tongue. The glint in your eyes make her stiffen up and she swallowed, clutching at her arms. She doesn’t like the way you say it and it only irks her.
Good.
“I hear you’re not talking.”
Milena grits her teeth, her eyes darting away. That only elicits a dangerous flame to light in you. You take well to hostages behaving stubborn and defiant—especially when the team was under pressure already.
“Who’s your Boss?” You spit, impatiently and frustrated. Your hand slam down on the table, asserting dominance and frightening her sitting form.
She swallowed and her chest heaved.
“I don’t have one. I work alone.” Her russian accent is thick and she enunciates the “t” heavily. You narrow your eyes, not buying it for a second. A lone woman like her? She must have connections and ties. Special relations.
Besides you is a laptop and you grab at it swiftly, leaning over it.
“I don’t buy your bullshit.”
“Believe what you want, if it comforts you.” She spat, and you turn your head to her. Something in your expression shifts and it has her shaking. You raised a brow—almost in admiration and respect for her tone. You’re slightly amused as well, by the hostage.
She sure had it coming. “For someone who’s being held captive, you have a lot of tongue on you.”
Milena glares up at you, resembling a pouting child in your eyes.
You lean forward, not hesitating to grab her hand.
She tensed up. “What are you doing—“
“Taking your hand—“
“Why? So you can cut it off?” Milena snaps, as you drag her finger to the sensor of the laptop. You scoff, a lip quirking up. Now she was giving you ideas. You’re amused by her behavior even more, finding it entertaining.
“Don’t go around threatening me with a good time, Milena.” You say smoothly.
This shuts her up for now.
Immediately you have access to her banking site and Milena recognized the site. She crossed her arms once her hand is free, glancing at it with daggers, her silence was soon replaced by another snarky comment, “Nothing in my bank account will get you closer to Vladimir.”
Your head lowered as you scrolled through her bank account. Sure enough you recognize the transfers and ID numbers. You suck in a breath, and soon behind you, you hear commotion. You don’t turn around though, whatever it is, Price has it handled.
That was until the interrogation room slammed open, revealing a tall and hunky, sweating Simon. He’s coiled and tense, his simple balaclava mask revealing brooding and bloodshot eyes. He leans heavily on the door, his eyes trailing over to your leaning form, and then Milena like daggers. Like he caught his prey.
You clamp your mouth shut—and realize Milena was in for a good scare.
Sure enough, she begins to breathe heavily at the sight and you hear Johnny from behind—“I tried to get him to listen—“
The door shuts.
“Why the mask?” Milena digs at Simon who leans against the wall, burly arms crossed as he watches you work like a hawk.
The Brit has no little to no patience. Frustration rolls off of him in waves and you know he’s seconds away from releasing what he’s holding back. He’s more so pissed off—not by the little lady bickering and trying to start an after school fight, but the fact the mission tossed sideways, wasting more time. Precious time.
He was like a toy box winding up. For now, he stood back.
“To hide my face.” He responds gruffly, his strong Manchester accent spitting out.
Milena jumps, not expecting it.
“Her bank records trace back to the Zordaya Prison. Multiple Konni accounts are hidden in here, damned witch.” You spit, eyes cutting her a stare you know she can’t run from.
“Money for Makarovs escape.” Simon puts two and two together. The name made her flinch and she looked away from Simon.
You revel in her reaction.
“Wealth opens doors.” The smug woman says, shrugging. Despite her cocky choice of words, you could tell she was close to cracking. And Simons presence was making it a helluva lot harder for her to stay still.
You scoffed. “More like blood money. That’s what this is.”
“Swiss account. Personal. It’s been tapped.” You say, unable to help the lifting grin that graces your lips. You lean back on one heel— bent to gaze at the laptop. You got her now.
This seems to have struck her nerve and sleuth of russian escapes past her lips—glaring at you.
“Думаешь, я тебя не пойму? (You think I wouldn’t understand you?)
You return, seeing her shrink down, her heart elevated. Her corotid is jumping at your efficiency Russian—cracking her open. Having another woman beat down on her and expose her, all whilst in her mother tongue was like slicing a knife through her.
Simon nodded his head up very slightly in approval of your tone. He has seen you interrogate a few times, and knows you have nothing in you to sit down and enjoy a game of poker. If anything, you were similar to him. But he didn’t carry the decorum you did.
You go back for her hand and she yells, “What the fuck are you doing—“
Simon then advanced forward, having enough of this. He ignores his pain, and looms over her beside you, head positioned down. His heavy lidded eyes bore into hers like needles, the black war paint illuminating them more dangerously. “Give her the print, or tell us where to find Makarov.”
You inwardly thank him for his support. But for now, you remain focused, eyeing her.
“Fuck. You.”
She should not have done that.
Simon leans forward slowly, angling himself. He searched her eyes and then narrowed them, invading her personal space to where she flattened herself against the chair in terror.
The look in his eyes—the impatience, the way they flickered with something unbridled, made her hesitate.
“We. Need. Makarov.” Simon then enunciated, his voice coming out in a poisonous spit. He never removes his steel eyes from hers, his hand slowly reaching for his sidearm to threaten her even more.
If anything the pain stabbing his lung makes him growl out the words insistently, with a sense of force. “Now.” His lip sneers.
“Where is he?” He demanded, much less of a question. You had to admit, his voice sent chills down your spine as you watched them both. You admire Simon as he worked efficiently despite his injury.
Milena’s lips wobbled and she then shouted his location.
——
You’re busy gearing up before the next mission in the armory, pulling on your shirt. Your hair is tied up and out the way, shifting on your combat boots with ease. You replay the interrogation in your mind over and over again, never wanting to be in Milenas’ position. Simon had her real good. He was getting checked by Johnny in the meantime—to which you heard Simon cuss.
Soon, boots scuffled against the ground and Price appears. He slaps a folder on the table beside him, and enters in, closing the door. A moment with the captain.
You spin around slowly, brow raised. You know he’s here to talk. Your hand works the pouch you wore, tightening the belt.
“That russian sounded a lil’ too good.” He said gruffly, almost with a proud glint as he watched you. He leaned against the door, his arms crossed. The lights above flickered and you swallowed, resting your shotgun rifle in the locker. It slumps from the weight.
His gaze is like a knife tracing over your hot searing skin.
“Price.” You said, eyes meeting his burning ones.
“You think I forgot that little stunt you pulled?” He then stalked closer, after the lock clicked as his hand moved. It hung by his side and your breath hitched. You were clad in your cargo pants, and a compression top, yet the top did nothing to provide pressure to calm your pounding heart.
“Price, I—“ You said his name, trying to explain but he cuts you off when he grappled for your waist and pressed you against one of the lockers firmly. His eyes roam all over you and he shushes you, his breath fanning across your face.
“I know, I know you said it was a game. Is that all this is to you?” He says lowly, a slightly condescending tone to it. You narrow your eyes and something in your heart lurched at his words. Was it all just a game? Only sex?
“What is it to you, if it’s just a game?” You spit back, feeling your head press against the locker metal. You swallow and his eyes track the way your neck moves, a hand reaching up to stroke the delicate skin. It makes you shudder, your resolve weakening. But you grip the side of the open locker door tightly.
“Quite answering my questions with questions, sweet’art. You know where that’ll land you.” Price murmurs and then his larger hand gently wraps around your neck. You nearly found yourself melting into his touch, the simple act drawing something submissive out of you.
Your head tilts and gently his padded fingers press at the side of your neck, not choking, but holding.
“You and that little red dress. All night. Teasing me. I need to get it off.” Price whispers, leaning in to touch the shell of your ear. His tongue licks the curve and you closed your eyes, feeling heat spread between your legs and stomach.
“You think I didn’t think about you? How we could’ve been matching? If you wore a red tie. Matching with my heels. My dress. My lipstick.”
“Is that what you want?” His warm voice traveled deep in you, and sent shivers, “Because if you want that, we’d have to be more.”
You stiffen up and tilt your head to look at him. His hand strokes your belly, before traveling low and under your shirt. He teases your waistband, and removes your gun and pouch. He places them in the locker and resumes his movements, feeling for the thin lacy material.
Your breath catches, “And what? Do you like the sound of us being more?”
“You tell me, with those pretty noises.” Price nearly groans it in your ear, his body weight pressing against yours with need. Your legs shake as he managed to find that pudgy button and warmth explodes in your lower area. You bit your lip to which he grabs your chin and jerks it to him.
He watches as the flesh gets pulled under your teeth and pants at the sight. “I’ll make you forget him.”
“I don’t care about him.” You said roughly, aching with need and desire for Price. Your chest heaved, feeling his hand stroke soothing circles right where you craved it the most. The skin erupts with tingles and you struggle to hold back a moan to talk.
“And you care about me? You can’t get me outta’ that pretty head of yours?” Price hums and it almost sounds condescending. But to you, it sounds hot. The way he teases and taunts you as you’re in no position to bite back.
Your panties are soaked—an admission of your feelings. “When you make it sound like that, it’s as if I care more.” You scoff.
Price pushed against you more—causing a strangled gasp to leave you. His hand presses firmly against your poor throbbing clit, his nose brushing your jaw, then your ear and to the slender curve of your neck.
“You have a nasty mouth on you. Been too long since our last fucking?” He growls out, shoving your pants down swiftly. Before you know it, he delivers a sharp slap to your puffy clit and you jerk, crying out.
“Get on me.” He orders. You jump and wrap your legs around his wider waist and arms around his neck, angling your head to kiss him feverishly. It’s true. Ever since the venue you’re left for craving for him all over again. You want to ravish him and take him all for yourself—much more than ever.
And Price is consumed by the same feelings. The desire to feel you around him, shaking and unable to focus on anything else but the way he stretches you. He wants to make you forget about him—that stupid little boy, and wants you to focus on what he can give you instead.
“I’ve got you.” He whispers in the kiss, almost soothingly, as if reassuring you your desires were safe to explore. Your head spins at his voice and warmth climbs up your arms and neck, as a flush settles on your cheeks.
“You and those pretty little heels. The ones I got for ya. Would love to do you in those.” Price huffs and grabs your face, kissing harder before you could respond. He swings around to dump your behind on the table and it shakes. Your hands immediately unfasten his belt and Price groans with need.
“I made sure to save em. You never know.” You tease, panting heavily in his mouth. Price helps you undo his thick belt and tosses them aside, the metal clanking. His pants drop heavily, and he scrambles to yank off his shirt.
Naked now, all that’s exposed are thick quads, bulky legs and a toned abdomen. Which is covered in a happily trail leading lower. You could see the imprint of his bulge against his boxers and you nearly drool. There’s a wet spot and you only imagine the way the liquids must be leaking down in thin white beads. Over the veins, over the throbbing skin.
You trail your eyes up and take in the sight of his wider chest, biceps flexing and straining as he undoes his boxers. His eyes stare at you hungrily, lips parting to breath harsh and fast—his hair chest rising and falling.
“Eyeing me up as if this ain’t the first time.” He mutters, discarding his boxers and then leaning in. You groan loudly, although muffled as his lips silence yours, moving with a fast unbridled pace. His tongue immediately pushes in, seeking entrance and demanding to explore.
Your tongue twirl and tangle. This isn’t soft and sensual with the usual tender licks—no he was livid. In the way his tongue pursued yours. Your head tilted back and you scrambled off your panties as well.
Soon, he slots himself between your legs.
“Raw?” He mutters, jerking himself off as precum dribbles down and coats his veiny, thick shaft. His balls were hanging low and his bulbous head points at you, red and angry. It’s thick and wide enough to bully your folds.
You moan at the sight, and the sound revs him. “Raw. Get it in.”
And just like that, his hips fill yours. He doesn’t stop, no, he pushes in one go and the feeling has you yelling in ecstasy. Immediately his hand covers your pretty mouth to muffle it and your head is craned back against the wall, feeling him bottom out. His tip kisses your cervix snug, and you had no time to adjust before the man starts pounding.
“Take it, take it all. Every inch. Naughty girls like you need this. You crave it, don’t you?” Dirty words fly out your captains mouth as his hips jack hammer at an intense unforgiving pace. Each pound has gasps leaving you, body shaking. The fat of your thighs jiggle, and your hands scramble to hold the edge of the shaking table.
“Oh, you can’t respond.” Price said smugly, keeping his hand over your mouth. He can feel how you quake and grab at his length, gummy walls squeezing and collapsing. It hugs him down good he groans and vocalizes his sounds. His head lowers, and long groans left him, eyes shutting at the feeling.
You grab at his head with one hand—the other supporting you and you eye him. You’re hazy with pleasure and your head spine, as the table squeaks and rocks.
“Oh? You want to hear me more?” Price leans and whispers, in your ear. His hand stays firm on your mouth and he chuckles shakily—entertained by your actions. The way you can’t talk, completely consumed by his control.
He breaths out loudly, with a mixture of a guttural moan leaving him. The sound has you rolling your eyes back.
“That’s right, you like it when I come in to do you? Hm? And cover your mouth—so no one can hear your filthy noises?” He grunts sharply, sweating. He grips the table with his one hand and then his other rests on your stomach, pressing and feeling his bulge jut in and out.
“Be a good girl and stay quiet, f’me.”
You try—his hand has you gasping and writhing, eyes shutting tightly. You think you see stars, the pressure was making it intense. Your legs spasm and your feet arch, toes curling. You barely repress this noise.
“You’re doing so good, sitting there, legs spread like a doll. Takin’ it f’me.”
“You jus’ needed my cock, didn’t you?”
You couldn’t believe the dirty things flying out his mouth. All you could do was groan loudly and shudder, sweat soaking your skin completely. You were sure you needed a shower before gearing up.
“Fuck, Price.” You could only say, yet be understood how lost in the pleasure you were. His eyes roamed greedily over the way you arched, your breasts jutting out and the skin trembling. Your hair bouncing back, angling your head so your neck was revealed and clavicle. Your brows arched and lips parted to moan.
“God you look so fuckin’ pretty under me.” He rasps, leaning in over you. Your back falls onto the table and you accidentally shove his folder off. It falls—paper scattering about. But none of you care.
If anything, he jack hammers into you, right against your gummy spot where he knows he’ll have you crying out the most. But he quickly covers your mouth to silence you—sweating himself. A strand of his hair falls forward onto his forehead.
“Shh shh, take it.” He can see the pleasure in your eyes, the tears. The haziness has him hooked completely, and he is sure he can never erase you out of his mind. Soon enough he feels his balls tighten and he grunts, eyeing you. You shudder and grab at the table, approaching your orgasm. Your toes curl and your neck tenses up.
Price pulls out before he could release into you, splattering onto your stomach. He grunts loudly and leans his head down to muffle them into your sweaty neck, as you convulse under him.
Soon, the two of you are left shaking and panting for air. You could feel his release traveling against your skin and sinking into your navel and your hands scramble to his shoulders. You’re still experiencing the afterglow and your eyes blink slowly.
“You bloody idiot. You came on me.” Your voice is somewhat groggy.
“Would you have rather me come into you?” Price teased, gruffly. He straightens up, needing a shower himself. He looked at your stomach and reveled in the way it coated you, thick fluids gliding. Your stomach quivered and he sucked in a breath.
“Fuck—no.” You muttered and sighed. Shakily you grabbed a napkin—but Price stopped you.
“Stop. You’re wasting it.” He muttered, holding your wrist. You paused and stared up at him wide eyed, still flushed.
“I’ll teach you what to do when you let me cum like this.” He murmurs and then his finger traces down your stomach. You jump, still sensitive from your orgasm and shudder. You whimper, and he stifled a groan at it.
Before you know it, your lips are wrapped around his finger that feeds you his sticky fluids. He watches the way those plump lips stuck, and he nuzzles your head with his nose. “So good f’me.”
The mere words has you melting. You wouldn’t do something as depraved as this—yet here you were. Eating his release that landed on your stomach. The things he made you do.
He then grabbed his clothes when you finished and you did as well, your back facing him. None of you say anything. The silence pierces your heart and you ignore the dull ache. You wanted to hear him say something. Something soft.
To be held.
The way he held you just now.
More.
But instead, you were met with his muscled back and you frowned. You were glad he couldn’t see you, because you looked like a kicked puppy. You then put your clothes on before heading to the showers. The door shuts, and Price buckled himself up, fingers working fast as he watches you leave.
The one thing he can’t get out his mind, is how you looked wrapping your lips around his finger and swallowing him. Those half lidded eyes consumed by pleasure and a hint of surprise at your own behavior.
Property of evanescencelovrr. do not modify, repost, or translate.
Guess it's time to bring this trend back.
Chapter 17: Small Indulgence is up now as well.
Hello, my lovelies. Here's a bonus chapter this weekend so you don't have to wait a full week to know what happens. I know, I'm so benevolent. 🤣 Be good and give kudos and comments for me. 😉
Poor Gabriel. 🤭
Found a beautiful Ao3 tag I’d like to share!
I don’t think I have ever been more proud 🥹
Things I need:
Thigh-highs, for research purposes
Arch Linux, because epic
That no one sees this
(hoiii!!! And… wdym history? I have an idea on how you mean it, but also not smbbjsjhsbjakna)
“My name is Subspace! And you are?”
| casually yeets in a rp because why not. (why am I nervous ssnkkjshakhak :sobs:) |
| So I assume every rp starts in the Arcade, yeh? Well, if that’s so, a young, four horned teenager and a helmeted enter the Arcade, probably simply wanting to check out a few games. While the helmeted man goes to play a few games, the teenage, pink demon spots Blaster (wherever he is currently) and walks over to him. |
“Hello!!” | he greets, waving at Blaster with an enthusiastic smile. |
(//ooc: hello friend!!!! Since the Demon!Blaster Event is still happening, Blaster will still appear as such in this ask but this rp is still going down in history, don't worry >:3 /pos)
{The silver colored demon looked up counting his tix, seeing the sight of another demon. He looked surprised as he tilted his head, feeling an odd sense of deja vu before shaking that thought away.}
Umm, hello. Who are you?
Please return us to a world where Notp and squick are used for a ship you don’t like instead of just making up a load of bullshit about how immoral it is or w/e lol
I’m being burdened with the horrors (I had a stressful week and just read a fanfic about my favourite character in my hyper fixation and I missed the major character death tag)
Did this 3 times and got Parent/child incest, Monks, and Yaoi
😐😐😐
Yipee
Lol
So I guess this Halloween, I'm gonna witness parent/child incest, become so disgusted by it that I become a monk, then transition and get a boyfriend (??)
LMFAOOOOO
Fluff and smut (????????), hopeful endings (LETS GO???? But ending to what??), dysfunctional relationships (oh??)
New AO3 Tag Wrangling Policy and the Transformers Fandom
(This is a long one, folks, but I think it's important.)
A new tag-wrangling policy on AO3 has the potential to create some massive confusion and chaos in the Transformers fanfic community, with regards to fandom tags. There is a Reddit post about it here with a focus on anime fandoms, but I want to give some concrete examples for the Transformers fandom on why we DO NOT WANT this, and why I think it's a horrible idea.
The Problem
Basically, AO3 is looking to get rid of the "All Media Types" fandom tag across the board, either by dismantling them or just not maintaining them. The Transformers - All Media Types tag has been an all-purpose tag that you could select when your story doesn't fall into any one specific continuity. Additionally, all most (see below) TF continuities on AO3 are considered a subtag of the Transformers - All Media Types tag. For example, if you look at the link above for all works in the All Media Types tag, you will see fics that are also tagged ONLY with Transformers: Animated, because it falls under the All Media Types tag.
One exception: With the upcoming Transformers: One movie coming out imminently, there will likely be a big influx of stories tagged with Transformers: One. In fact, there are several already. However, it hasn't been linked to the larger Transformers - All Media Types tag yet. I wasn't worrying about it though, because I know these things can take time.
With information about this new tagging policy, however, I'm now wondering whether it'll EVER get linked to the All Media Types tag. If that happens, and when more continuities are developed in the coming years (since you know Hasbro loves creating new universes) this has the potential to cause massive confusion when looking for stories to read.
Searching for Stories with the New Tagging System
So let's say the All Media Types fandom tag isn't accurate anymore, because it no longer includes ALL of the continuities (such as TF:One). You will need to include ALL the Transformers continuities when browsing for TF fics.
How many tags is that? Well, here are all of the tags currently listed under the Transformers - All Media Types tag:
Note that this doesn't include Transformers: One since it hasn't been categorized yet.
You will potentially have to have 40 or more different fandom tags in your search, just in case the author tagged their story with something you weren't expecting.
This massively decreases the findability of a story.
Tagging with the New System
The email response from the Tag Wrangling group (see the linked Reddit post above) seems to be a bit flip in the response to the user's concern. "...encourages creators to tag with the media they intend."
While I appreciate what they are attempting to do, this policy change feels like a solution in search of a problem, especially in larger fandoms with multiple continuities, versions, and media types that are all cross-pollinated in both canon and fanon. While I'm focusing on Transformers fandom, imagine a creator in the DC comic universe writing a story that incorporates bits and pieces from a dozen different reboots.
For example, let's say that I am writing a fic about Ratchet. I am using the setting of the original G1 episodes, but I also am using the characterization of him as a bit of an old man grump. That characterization originated in the Animated continuity, but I want to incorporate bits of pieces of his other characterizations as well (old friend of Optimus from TFP, Ratchet ran a faction-free clinic like he did in the War for Cybertron series, he's got a Decepticon boyfriend like in IDW1 - or maybe even Cyberverse, etc.)
With this new tagging structure, I might potentially have to tag the story with ALL of those continuities. So instead of just slapping down the "All Media Types" tag (and maybe one other fandom tag that matches the characters as best I can), I'll have to analyze my story and try to figure out how best to tag for the characters I used.
And what if you're doing a completely AU version of the story? For example, a humanformers story, or merformers? Using the All Media Types tag along with a Alternate Universe - Human or Alternate Universe - Mermaid tag worked perfectly, since you weren't writing the story to fit into one specific continuity. But now, that might not be an option.
What To Do??
The first thing I would suggest is to contact AO3 (using the Feedback and Support page) and let them know (nicely) that you think this is a horrible idea. Give them some examples on how you use the All Media Types tag to find stories to read, or to help you tag a story. People outside of the Transformers fandom don't always appreciate how absolutely tangled the continuities can be with each other, and providing examples might help them see why this would be a really messy change.
Readers: Be aware that when you are looking in the All Media Types tag, it will no longer show newer continuities. And if AO3 starts dismantling that tag like they suggested they are doing, be aware that some stories won't show up in that tag like they used to. You can also create and then bookmark a custom search page that includes all 40+ continuities. REALLY annoying, but it's a workaround.
Writers: Until they start dismantling the All Media Types tag, ALWAYS ALWAYS tag your stories using Transformers - All Media Types... Especially for newer continuities. This will be especially important if you are writing a Transformers: One story. Right now, anyone who is only browsing the All Media Types tag will not see a story tagged only with Transformers: One. Make sure you're aware of how tags work and how they can affect the visibility and findability of your story.
Epilogue
Ugh. That's a lot of words for a long-weekend Saturday. And maybe I'm overreacting a tiny bit. But my work involves information architecture, and this change just absolutely baffles me. It's almost as though they want to make it harder to find stories. Considering that AO3 won a Hugo partially because of its fantastic tagging system, this change seems like AO3 is doing its best to shoot itself in the foot.
When you have a square hole, a round hole, and a rectangular hole… Yeah, you DO want each peg to go in the "right" hole. But if all of the pegs fit in the square hole, who cares? You got the job done.
I love you @ao3org, but please reconsider this change... Especially for IPs that are as old and are as varied as Transformers.
real, fix-it fics are some of my favorites!
my whole life revolves around and depends on my fav ao3 fics getting updated
2022 favs ft jikook ao3 fanfics recs
i went through a lot of ups and downs this year but the only thing that has been constant is my obsession with fanfics
1. screwed up and brilliant [113k words] 5/5
2. hard to love [57k words] 5/5
3. Give me a little death [45k words] 4.5/5
4. drop like confetti [110k words] 4.75/5
5. The clouded star [174k words] 4/5
6. We hurt and heal the same [105k words] 6/5
7. fine line [115k words] 4.5/5
8. All in bloom [77k words] 4.25/5
9. This is inevitable [8k words] 4.25/5
10. You are in love [10k words] 4/5
11. what glitters is gold [123k words] 4/5
12. innisfree [ 178k words] 4/5
13. Armed with a spray can soul [55k words] 4/5
14. Learning curve [154k words] 4.25/5
15. Eight count [182k words] 4/5
16. It takes two [106k words] 4/5
17. Missing piece (in tokyo) [14k words] 4.75/5
18. Wicked and wild [173k words ] 4.5/5
19. Push and pull [ongoing] 5/5