ZeEmber

it started out of nowhere. you were at a pub one evening, a little tipsy from your previous drinks ; when a man came up to you and blalantly made you understand that he wanted a little company for the night. his name was john from what he told you. he was tall, arms tattoed and most importantly very handsome, he for sure knew how to talk to a woman.

you decided to give him a chance and bring him to your place that was closer. he was really not what you expected, he talked like a caring gentleman back at the pub, but the second you entered your apartment, he immediately pushed you on the couch and ripped off your underwear. he roughly manhandled you, and you let him do it.

after multiple orgasms on the sofa, he picked you up and proceeded in your bedroom. he took you harshly in doggy style, your cheek flat against your mattress. you were a babbling mess as his balls rapidly met your ass cheeks, his hands firmy gripping your hair to make you stay in place. you could hear his gruff voice behind you, however you were too far gone to decipher what he was saying to you.

when you woke up next morning he was gone, you found a scratch of paper on your bedside table, his number.

that's how your first night ended, it was the beginning of it.

it’s been a few months now, and you noticed a change in john’s attitude. he doesn’t leave immediately after you fall asleep anymore, you always find him sleeping soundly next to you in the morning, he even made you breakfast once.

he always pays for you when you meet at the pub, even when you order takeout, he never said anything about it ; you never questioned it either.

the most shocking one was how he acted in bed, the 'fuckin’ slut' turned into 'takin’ me so well, luv'. the way he couldn’t help but put his lips on your skin, lips as he fucked you. or how he gently brushed strands of hair off your sticky face when you were completely cock drunk.

but what really made you realize that everything changed was when you woke up at 3am, your phone buzzing. you grabbed it and got slightly stunned by the screen light 'Jonathan' proudly showing on it. you frowned, price was on a deployment since a few weeks now, was he okay ? you heard his gruff voice when you picked up, "i don’t know why i called you, luvie" a faint sight escaped his lips, "do you miss me?" it was his way to say that he did. you chuckled softly, and price felt his heart squeeze at the other end of the line.

you stayed on the phone quite a long time, before you heard someone call him.

soap: hat.

iv: pardon?

soap: his hat. If you want to be remembered you gotta have either a really cool hat that makes people think you’re cool… or a hat so ugly that it’s ingrained into people’s memories.

price: …soap. Which one is my hat?

You both meet in a mer sanctuary, you having been rescued from an aquarium going bankrupt and ghost under treatment for a boating strike. You've never seen another mer before, but the strange creature in your tank undeniably is one, that much you instincts tell you.

But....but he's so big, bigger than anything you've seen before! You doubt he could ever comfortably fit in your tank! Just looking at him makes your fins flutter nervously, hiding in the rocks on the shelf built into the pool.

He keeps peeking into your cave, chirping and churring in a way that makes your instincts perk but you don't really understand. Safety? Pod? You don't know.

Meanwhile, ghost is losing his mind.

This strange mer is too damn small, and he keeps trying to ask "are you okay? I'm safe, did they hurt you?" But all it does is squeak like a pup and hide!

Ghost can't fit into the tiny cave with the mer, and his instincts are already freaking out because he's separated from his pod! He needs to protect the weird pup!

....how the hell the workers intend to care for you when ghost is at risk of drowning anyone who tries, they have no idea.

Price loves having you in his lap.

It doesn’t matter if anyone else is in the room, if you’re there, you’re in his lap. No other chair is acceptable.

Of course, there are acceptions. If he’s working, you’ll be on your own no matter how much he wishes to just have you right by his side.

But, if he’s doing paperwork, eating, drinking at the pub with the boys, you’re in his lap.

His arm is tight around your waist, keeping you from leaving. The only excuse is if you’re about to piss yourself, even then, he’s reluctant.

He loves nothing more than having his buttercup in his arms and on his lap.

You're a lone survivor in the apocalypse, group having been picked thin from well...everything. zombies are one thing but humans are another.

Maybe ghost thinks he recognizes you, some intern that used to work on base, or at least close enough. You're defenseless to this monster as he drags you further into the abandoned apartment complex he seemed to call home. He? It? You're not sure.

The days are long of it simply following you everywhere, he doesn't try to restrict your movement around his...territory? Happy to let you roam, watch you scavenge for food.

Nights are...worse.

The monster forces you into his den, a pile of clothes covered in old blood. Some items he holds often, a blue cap, a boonie hat. Sometimes it puts them on you, wraps you up in all three arms. Grumbles and Gurgles in your ear, not sleeping but playing at it.

The hand never strays lower that your waistband but...surely it won't stay like that.

What will you do then? ...would you run?

Nng anonnnn that is so price trying to manipulate his secretary into not snitching @///@

You get hundreds of papers on your desk in a week, yet you somehow manage to catch the discrepancies in his teams accounts of events versus another teams. You brought it to price first, of course you did, he's been spending so much time making sure you trust and rely on him for help.

Sure, he uses your little crush against you, corners you against his desk and traps you in by leaning a hand on it. "Just change it to our account, love, chances are they rushed that report anyways."

"Uhm— I could check the other reports—" you offer, stumbling and squirming when he growls low in displeasure. "Ah— you're right, i know gaz spends so long making sure his work is right. I'll change it."

You're rewarded with a firm pat on the hip and prices gruff "atta girl."

"Look how wet she is..." He cooed. Not talking about you, but your aching pussy. Tapping your clit so threads of sticky slick connected your cunt and his fingers. He laughed when you whined. Eyes rolling in your head as your walls fluttered around emptiness.

"Isn't she, Sergeant?"

Kyle was dead still where he knelt on the floor in front of you and John. Eyes zeroed in on the glossy arousal leaking from you. He gave a slow nod and swallowed. Saliva pooling under his tongue. He wanted to taste. But he hadn't been given permission yet.

John slid two fingers inside you with no resistance. Kyle jumped at the loud keen you let out. Cock bouncing between his legs, dripping precum on the floor.

"Please..." He whispered. Voice so quiet it was barely audible over the squelch of your cunt.

Larger than life, the sheer size of him only more exaggerated by the fact you've always been on the short size. You hear almost everyday how difficult it will be, your supposedly giant baby. Honestly, you're worried too, though you suspect konig is the most stressed.

"I broke the record in my hospital, schatzi. Fifteen pounds. Schatzi, Do you hear me." Which. As one would predict, only served to make you more nervous.

Then the day comes and....they're...small.

Tiny, little babies. Twins, how the hell it was missed it beyond you. Your husband is well over six feet, weighs a solid three hundred and some pounds, and his two new babies can easily be held in one hand each.

As the shock of everything settles in, you both learn that your babies will absolutely scream and wail if konig attempts to hold them normally, only settling properly when curled up in his hands. He's practically crying all the time from how fragile they are compared to him.

Seeing the tiny pairs of socks he sews for them has you crying, too. He loves them so so much.

Your favorite memory is watching the little ones, now a bit older but still so small, snuggling together on konigs back while he naps, enough space they can't easily roll off.

Before Price can swallow his gulp of tea to answer, Nik pipes up. "Da, I cracked him like a chemlight."

The tea comes out of Price's nose and Soap creases into a heap on the floor, gasping through breathless cackles.

One night, the routine broke. You heard chipping at first, maybe an animal gnawing the wood outside. Then a crack, and a squeal that sounded awfully like your front door. Panicked, you grab the little hand gun your husband had insisted you keep and crept out, checking rooms one by one. When you turned into the living room you felt a strong grip halt your wrist. You pulled the trigger, yet nothing happened.

"You always forget the safety.." John, too gruff and so low but nonetheless, your husband.

years later, his house doesn't quite feel like his when he stands in the driveway. Price isn't nervous, per se, he knows you better than you know yourself. you'll take him back, whether with open arms or reluctantly makes no difference to john. you have always been his, and there is no other option for him than to return to you.

Price is a different man than the one who left you, his morals raked through the mud and body worn down by the work of staying alive. the time apart did not alter him, but it peeled the soft skin of his persona to reveal the over-ripe thing that has always been festering beneath.

you repainted the door that gaudy red he always resisted when you did your spring redecoration.

of all things, that's what makes Johns mouth pull into a fond smile.

he knocks on the door.

"sorry, I'm not interested in—" you are the same dazzling person you were all those years ago, frozen in the doorway, eyes wide with…something. "…john?"

"love." john doesn't explain himself, he never does, but the pinch of his brow and the curl of his smile is the most genuine thing he's felt in a long time. "you look stunning."

you inhale, deep, steeling your nerves as you look your husband up and down. price waits, knows it's better than to rush you. "you….john. you left john, i thought— i didn't know what to think—"

your gaze drifts back up to his face, taking in everything. the dusk light does nothing to disguise your tears when you reach for his face, cup his jaw in both hands "why? john, why—"

"love, you know i can't—"

"why the hell did you grow out your beard?!" you cry, tugging on the hair until he bends and winces, face scrunched up "where's my husband and who is this strange man! john! why!?"

"…in my defense, the door's now red—"

"shut up." you tug price into his home, warm and soft and crying "you're shaving, and after that you aren't leaving the bedroom all week."

Price manspreading on the couch while checking reports…

Scooting in between his huge thighs so i can nose and lick at his cock…

Price using one hand to fix his reading glasses and then pet my hair…

“Good job, pet”

He kidnaps you and takes you to a basement full of ikea leaf canopies designed to look like a giant beetle enclosure, even has a fridge of fruits and jelly shots.

And you look at him like "you know I'm not really a beetle, right? :|" but your elytra are happy twitching and ur itching to curl up in the leaf blanket.